Chapter 11 Rowen
ROWEN
The Cedar Ridge pack house sits at the top of a sloping hill, its dark timbers glowing gold in the flood of string lights that crisscross the yard. Laughter and low conversation carry through the crisp night air, brushing against the edges of grief that still hang here like fog.
I take it all in as I step up onto the porch—the hum of voices, the scent of pine smoke and roasted meat, the faint notes of guitar drifting through the open door. Ainsley or Harper must be playing. The girls are phenomenal musicians.
Justice was too. I will miss his piano solos.
The house itself is massive—three stories with a second-tier balcony and over twenty bedrooms. Meant to hold a pack of thirty or more.
Wide windows on the bottom floor let in natural light during the day, and people can easily get lost in the long hallways.
Each level has its own living area along with its own laundry room. Humble earth tones decorate everything.
Every time I come here, I’m blown away by the size and elegance of their house. But to be a leader of a pack this size… I honestly shudder to think of the responsibility.
Children’s laughter rings through the air as they dart between legs, wild and carefree. Adults gather in quiet circles, sharing stories and drinks. Beyond the porch, the yard stretches into the trees, and groups cluster around burning metal trash cans, trying to thaw their fingers.
Around one hundred fifty people are here tonight for the ceremony, from four packs. A few humans traveled from Prodigy as well.
But underneath their happy stories and cheerful melodies is an ache that will stretch on for decades.
This is our fourth Remembrance in less than six months. Nine shifters across all the packs. Seven of them were victims of the coven. That’s so much death in such a short time. So much loss and heartbreak.
So much anger.
Emotions are high everywhere tonight.
I tap Red’s hand to get his attention and whisper, “Were you able to track Rip with the bracelet?”
He presses his lips together. “No. I’m sorry.”
My heart sinks, even though I was prepared for the news. I’d hoped, after everything we’ve been through, that we’d find a break and this would lead us to the coven. But Red’s mage gifts focus on healing, not tracking.
We need to find them before they hurt anyone else—or before they come for Jericho and Tobias.
“Well, it was worth a shot.”
“How’s Tobias?” Red asks.
Tobias has barely spoken to anyone since Red broke the news he might be a half-blood, but he isn’t locking himself away in the room either.
“I don’t know.”
Red touches my arm. “He trusts you the most, Ro. Just keep being there for him.”
“I’m trying.”
Bronson is near the back doors, shaking hands and clapping shoulders with his guests. He’s lost some weight since I last saw him, but that’s to be expected after losing a mate, son, and beloved elder from their pack in such a short time.
When he sees me, he smiles faintly and nods. “Rowen. Glad you came.”
“Wouldn’t miss it. Justice was a dear friend.”
Bronson’s eyes soften. “Yes, he was so fond of you and your sister.”
I don’t know what else to say, so I give him a firm squeeze on the shoulder and step aside, allowing Grant and Neal to pay their respects as well. One by one, we honor the alpha.
When it’s Jericho’s turn, Bronson’s gaze lingers. Jericho holds out a hand, but Bronson pulls him in for a hug. “Thank you. Just thank you for trying—” His voice cuts off, thick with emotion.
Jericho pulls away quickly, not sure how to reply.
Murmured whispers follow us through the house, and smiles fade.
“What’s he doing here?” someone sneers, their bitter tone directed at Jericho.
“That’s the vampire, isn’t it?” another says, followed by a low growl from a younger wolf.
My hackles rise. I haven’t been to as many gatherings as the others, so many of these people are still strangers. Can we trust them?
We each grab some drinks and visit with friends.
Grant, Sage, and Neal catch up with their work colleagues, while my mom chats with some female alphas.
Ivy and I mingle with shifters our age. I haven’t seen most of them since I graduated from high school, and their stories of living in the city or traveling abroad make my heart ache.
That was supposed to be my life.
The tension in the air tightens as more and more guests seem to notice Jericho, but I have to give him credit—Jericho doesn’t rise to it. His expression stays calm and unreadable, even though I know he can hear every word. Evan probably can too, as the guests are not being discreet.
They’re dressed simply—Jericho in a dark jacket with his dark hair brushing the edge of his shoulders.
Evan is in black jeans and a black button-down.
They’d borrowed the clothes from Neal, wanting to dress appropriately for such a sensitive event.
As for the shifters, we’re all dressed in light gray, loose-fitting clothes.
Traditional attire for shifter memorials.
My mom leans into whisper to Forest, “Is there going to be a problem?” Her attention is on the groups staring at Jericho.
“I hope not. Bronson knew he was coming. Insisted on it, even.”
“But did the other packs know? Or do they know what Jericho did?”
Forest clenches his teeth. “My guess is no. Or if they do, they aren’t happy about it.”
Grant leans in. “Look closer, guys.”
I turn, trying to see it through the second-in-command’s eyes. And that’s when I realize over half of the Cedar Ridge pack is not only surrounding us, but they’re surrounding Jericho and Evan too. Protecting us. The men probably don’t even realize it, not knowing who any of the people are.
“Think Bronson asked them to do that?” I say.
“Couldn’t tell you.”
Either way, it surprises me.
Finally, Bronson steps toward the center of the patio. He stands beneath the string of lights, his breath visible in the cold night air. When he speaks, his voice carries easily across the yard and through the house.
“Thank you for coming. It would have meant the world to Genny and Justice—and to my mate, Gerina—to know how many of you loved them.” He pauses, steadying himself.
“Genny lived a long, full life. As most of you know, she’d been ill for some time, which is rare for a shifter.
The truth is, even if she’d survived that night, she likely would not have survived until Christmas.
” His jaw flexes, grief and acceptance both visible. “But my son…”
His voice cracks.
“Justice was too young to die. Too wild. Too alive. The loss of him will ache in me for the rest of my days. But I will always carry pride, too. Pride that my boy went down fighting. Pride that he died protecting one of our own.”
A murmur rolls through the crowd in quiet agreement.
Bronson’s eyes lift, searching the faces before him, then landing on Jericho. “Some of you have questions about who we let in tonight. About why a vampire stands among us.”
The silence tightens like a bowstring.
“Jericho is here because he tried to turn Justice,” Bronson says.
Shock rings through the room from the visiting packs, and Jericho quickly becomes fixated on the cup in his hand, clearly uncomfortable with the sudden attention.
“He fought off the vampires who hurt him. Killed one of them. Then did everything he could to save Justice. Even giving him the choice to be turned.” Bronson turns, making sure everyone is listening.
“Justice chose that, in the end. And though it didn’t work, I will never forget that Jericho tried. I’m asking you to do the same.”
Bronson keeps going. “We used to trust vampires. Used to run with them, hunt with them. Some of us even shared our homes with them. I ask that you remember that now more than ever. Not all of them are monsters. Alexander Foxx and Ripley Cutthroat, the rest of them—those are monsters. But this one?” He nods toward Jericho.
“This one is one of us. And I think my son would have considered you a friend if he had the chance.”
Jericho inclines his head, quiet as the night itself. He dabs his eyes and leans into Evan, who wraps an arm around his back.
“Hear, hear! Unite the breeds again!” someone says.
Someone else starts clapping, and another joins in. It’s hesitant at first, then strong.
When the sound fades, Bronson wipes a hand over his face and exhales. “We will miss Genny and Justice, and our home will always be a little empty. But let’s honor them tonight by running with them one last time.”
A roar erupts through the crowd, quickly followed by laughter.
One by one, people strip off their clothes, bare skin catching under the bright moon.
Seeing bodies shift, stretch, and ripple with fur is natural to me.
But Jericho and Evan are less accustomed to our ways.
Their eyes bug at all the naked bodies, and they look away.
What would Tobias think if he were here? Would it scare him even more? Remind him of the attack in the park? Or make him fear his bloodline? He hasn’t actually seen us shift at the house yet either. Maybe he needs to.
The night fills with the sound of paws hitting earth.
We run together—over a hundred of us—through the trees, in a blur of color and motion.
Above us, hawks and eagles soar, their cries piercing the night air.
There are even four bear shifters in our mix, and some deer.
Tonight, we are united, not divided by packs or animals.
The forest sings with us. Howls rise and fall like waves, echoing over the ridge. I can almost hear Justice’s voice among them, his bark, his laughter. The ache in my chest sharpens and softens all at once.
He’s gone. My younger friend is gone. But running like this, with the others, with his spirit moving beside us—I can almost believe he’s still here.
By the time we reach the ridge, the night feels alive again.
I leap onto a rock slick with frost and throw my head back, howling into the open sky.
The others answer, their voices twining with mine.
The sound vibrates through the forest, through the air, through the part of me that refuses to give up.
Beneath my pain, beneath my grief and anger, is a determination to see this through to the end. To avenge my friend’s death. The coven has taken too much from us, but they won’t take this—our freedom. They won’t take anyone else.
And they won’t take Tobias.
Never again.
Something fierce snarls in me at the thought, and I paw the earth. No, never again will Rip lay a hand on Toby. I’ll make sure of it.
By the time the last echoes fade and we arrive back at the Cedar Ridge house, my lungs burn and my skin is cold against the winter air.
My breath steams as I pull on my clothes. “These are always equally exhausting and exhilarating.”
Ivy bumps me, her eyes misty. “And heartbreaking.”
I pull her in for a long hug. Ivy tucks her face against my neck and sobs.
The woods are quiet now except for the occasional crunch of snow and the soft panting of wolves settling down near the treeline.
Jericho stands a few yards away, still as stone with moonlight washing over his face. Evan’s beside him, rubbing his arms for warmth. They’d walked a part of the way with us before returning.
When I step closer, Jericho glances at me, eyes faintly silver in the dim light.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
“Yeah. I really am.”
Evan hugs Ivy as she sniffles.
Sorrow flickers across Jericho’s face—or maybe regret. “He was brave,” he murmurs. “Braver than I was in the moment.”
It makes Ivy cry all over again. I pat her back.
Evan looks between us like he’s not sure what to say, but then tucks Jericho against his side. “You found your courage, though. That’s what matters.”
Jericho smiles a little. “Not until you came back into my life. You gave me something to fight for. You all did.”
Evan kisses him, then his attention drifts to me. “Maybe Tobias needs that too. To be reminded he’s not alone.”
I nod slowly. Does Evan know where my heart is tonight? Can he see it written on my face?
“Yeah, he does.”
The cold bites through my shirt, and I reach for my hoodie. As I pull it on, I look back toward the house, where the glow of lanterns reflects on the frosty ground. Inside, laughter rises again. Grief lingers, but so does hope.
Jericho’s words echo in my mind. You gave me something to fight for.
That’s just it, isn’t it? Hope won’t do us any good if we aren’t willing to fight for the things we want.
If we can keep moments like this alive, keep showing packs that not all vampires are the enemy, then maybe there’s still a chance. All we need is enough people to join the cause. To fight for a future without Foxx’s brutality.
Justice deserves that.
Tobias deserves it too. His future needs it.
I breathe deep, tasting the night, and start the walk back toward home. My pulse quickens, that low ache sharpening into something steadier—instinct, maybe. I don’t know what this feeling is yet, only that I won’t let him face what’s coming alone.
Tobias needs something to fight for. And until he finds his strength again, he’ll have mine.