Chapter 12 Tobias
TOBIAS
It’s been four days since Red dropped the bombshell that changed everything. Four days since my entire life shifted, and I started to question everything—every moment, every memory.
Nothing makes sense anymore.
Except, everything does. And that’s what scares me.
Being alone makes my mind spin—too many questions, too many fears—so I avoid it, spending my time around the others as much as possible. I help in the kitchen, hang out with Ivy or Taren or whoever’s around, usually Rowen. I’m with him the most.
I take pictures every day. I haven’t let the digital camera out of my sight since they gave it to me. The weight is a steady comfort in my hands.
But even when I’m around them, I don’t talk. I don’t know what to say. All I can think about is what Red told me.
You might be a half-blood.
Half shifter. Half human.
If it’s true… God, if it’s true—if that’s what my mom was—it would explain everything.
Red hasn’t brought it up again, almost like he knows I’m not ready to talk about it. But the things he said play on a loop in my head, twisting the lens of my memories.
Nights are the worst. If it’s not dreams of Rip or the club, then it’s dreams of my mother.
I hear her screams, see her vacant eyes.
The way she’d talk to people who weren’t there, the way she’d beg me to listen to things I couldn’t hear.
I used to think it was mental illness. Used to beg her to take her meds.
Watched her struggle for years. Fight with her mind, her body.
And even with medication, she still succumbed to her…
well, I can’t say illness anymore, can I?
It doesn’t fit. She’d succumbed to her shifter side.
Her animal. It was literally tearing at her trying to get out.
After an evening shower, I head downstairs. The living room is empty. So is the kitchen. Everyone is either working or out on a run. Grant went to talk to another pack and hasn’t come back. Forest locked himself in his office to make some phone calls.
I can’t stand the silence, so I take my camera and go upstairs.
Rowen’s door is open, as it almost always is. He’s at his desk with his headphones on, tapping something into his laptop. I drop onto the massive beanbag beside his bed and fidget with the camera strap in my hands.
He looks over, removing the headphones. “Need something?”
I don’t want to tell him the truth—that I just don’t want to be alone—so I mumble, “The memory card is full again.”
His warm eyes glint with humor. “Already?”
I smile a little.
“You’re relentless with that thing.” He pulls a spare laptop from under his desk, handing it to me. “Here.”
It’s the third or fourth time I’ve transferred photos this week.
Rowen hadn’t even hesitated the first time I’d mentioned it.
Just dragged me into his room and given me not only the laptop but his password to log in.
It’s an old device, wiped clean of anything important when they upgraded, but still. How can he trust me so easily?
How can I trust him? I don’t know, but I do.
I insert the memory card before opening the laptop. After typing in the password, my eyes widen. There’s a new program on the screen.
“You bought Photoshop?” My voice cracks in surprise.
Rowen smiles like it’s nothing. “Figured you might want to edit some of those photos.”
My throat tightens. “You didn’t have to—”
“I know.”
I can’t speak, can’t find it in me to say thanks. The way he keeps doing things for me, the way they all keep doing things—don’t they know it’s going to wreck me when I’m forced to leave? I’ve never been treated like this, like I belong.
He’s still staring at me, with a strange, tender smile on his lips that makes my heart do funny things.
“What?”
He shrugs. “Nothing.
My cheeks heat. “So—uh. I like your Black Paw poster. Guessing you’re a fan?”
Rowen leans back, propping his feet on the beanbag near my legs. “They’re my favorite band.”
“Yeah? Mine too. I saw them live once.” I can’t help but brag a little. See? My life isn’t all darkness and gloom.
He perks up. “Are you serious?”
“Yep. About… oh, four years ago? When they came to Prodigy. I even met the drummer. He’s hot as fuck.” I clap a hand over my mouth. “Oh my god. I didn’t mean—”
“Oh, you so did,” he says, laughing. “Hot, huh?”
My ears burn like they’re going to fall off.
Rowen just laughs harder. He pauses as if filing this priceless bit of information away for later. “Good to know I haven’t been misreading you, though. I think he’s hot too.”
I exhale. “You… do?”
He nods. “Definitely. The bassist is too. I’d totally hit that if I could.”
I grin stupidly. “You’re gay?”
“Eh, no. Bi maybe. I don’t know. I’ve mostly been with women, but there’ve definitely been some men in the mix.” He shifts around, rolling his chair closer. “We don’t really judge that kind of thing here. Don’t use labels. It just is what it is.”
I snort. “Obviously. Everyone seems to be bi or gay. Jer and Evan, Red and Sage…”
Rowen tilts his head. “Red and Sage aren’t just dating. They’re fated.”
“Wait, what?”
He nods. “They’re a fated pair. Met in the city a few years back, and Sage said his wolf just knew the moment he saw Red. Knew he was his soulmate.”
For a brief moment, neither of us speak.
“I thought that was just fantasy stuff,” I say quietly.
“Oh, it’s real. Just rare.” His tone shifts, becoming quieter, almost thoughtful. He clicks around on his screen, rubbing the back of his neck. “When you know, you just… know. That’s what Sage says anyway.”
I sit with that, chewing my lip. It’s so foreign to me—not just the idea of fate, but certainty.
What would that even feel like?
The thought tightens something low in my chest. I’ve spent my whole life around supernaturals, yet there’s still so much I don’t understand. And now it’s like I’m somewhere between worlds—not quite human, not quite shifter.
I don’t know where I belong.
I scroll through the newest photos, trying to keep my breathing steady.
Each one holds something warm and real, grounding me.
Evan mid-laugh, snow caught in his hair from a snowball fight.
Ivy humming while tucking some hair behind her ear, like it’s a habit.
Jericho smiling in a way I’ve only seen when Evan’s in the room.
Each one is full of love. Warmth. Belonging.
Everything about these people is beautiful.
My gaze drifts toward Rowen again. So, so damn beautiful.
He catches me staring. “What?”
I sit up. “Nothing.”
He smirks. “Mm-hmm.”
After a moment, I say, “Aren’t you going to ask if I’m okay? Everyone else has, like, a million times.”
He wiggles his toes under my thigh as if trying to get warm. “I don’t need to. I can see you’re handling things about as well as anyone could.”
I chew my lip.
“Mostly, anyway.” He softens. “You can talk to me, though. You know that, right? Just because I’m giving you space doesn’t mean I’m not here to listen.”
I glance down at his foot pushing beneath my leg. “You call this space?”
His laugh spills out. When he tries to pull back, I catch his foot between my hands. “Kidding. It’s fine.”
His laugh fades, but his eyes don’t leave me. There’s something steady in his gaze, like he’s cataloging the moment—me laughing, not flinching.
“You don’t do that often,” he says quietly.
“Do what?”
“Let your guard down.”
The words should sting, but they don’t. Maybe because he says it without expectation. Just observation.
I look away, fiddling with the camera strap. “You make it easy.”
And it really is. Rowen is so easy to be around. No pressure. No microscope. No need to wear a mask.
His smile softens a little before he turns back to his screen. “If you give me an hour to finish this stuff, we can watch a movie after?”
My heart warms. “Sure.”
I stay curled in the beanbag, laptop warming my legs as I edit the photos. His feet stay tucked beneath me, steady and real, anchoring me in a way I don’t want to examine too closely.
When he’s finally done, he sets the laptop aside and stretches. “I’m going to grab us some snacks. Be back in a few.”
When he returns with a bowl of popcorn, a jar of peanuts, and two sodas, I snicker. “It’s always about food with you guys, isn’t it?”
He plops down next to me, nearly knocking me off the beanbag. “Fast metabolism.”
We sink closer together. I expect Rowen to pull away, but he doesn’t.
He queues up an old movie that looks like it was filmed in someone’s basement.
I snort. “What is this?”
“A low-budget masterpiece.”
“Are you trying to make me suffer even more?”
He laughs. “I’ve got a soft spot for them thanks to my theater days.”
I can’t hide my surprise. “You’re a theater geek?”
“Was, yeah.” He crosses his feet at the ankles and tucks an arm behind his head.
“I was in theater for twelve years and had like, oh, forty performances? Lost count. Anyway, I loved it. Wanted to go to Broadway, actually. But my dad died and…” He shrugs, like that explains the rest. “The pack needed me.”
It hits me in the chest, how much he gave up for others. That’s the shifter way, though, isn’t it? Family first, always. That’s what I’ve heard.
I can’t stand the thought of Rowen giving up his dream. There has to be a way he can have both. “I’m sure you can find a club in Prodigy or something. The city is bursting with culture and entertainment and stuff.”
Rowen shrugs. “I was going to look into it once, but things got too dangerous. I kept hearing about people disappearing in the city, and then our neighbor died. So, anyway. Someday, when it all calms down, I’ll look into it. But I can’t right now. My pack needs me.”
I squeeze his arm. “I’m sorry, Ro. Believe me, I know what it’s like to be forced to give up something you love.”
“Yeah,” he says softly. “Guess that’s why you get it.”
His gaze lingers, warm and steady, and I feel it—like he’s looking past the noise and confusion and seeing the real me hiding under it all. He shifts slightly closer, just enough to close the space between us.
“You’re stronger than you think,” he murmurs, voice low. “Not because of what you’ve done or what you went through… but because you keep going. Always remember that, okay?”
Something in my chest eases, a knot I didn’t realize I’d been holding. For once, I don’t want to run from it. For once, I believe him.
I still don’t know what to make of it—of any of this. My past, my future. The mark on my shoulder. But most of all, I’m not sure what to think about him.
Rowen is surprising in the best way. Being near him makes everything a little less scary.
Halfway through the movie, I turn on my side and shift closer, without touching. At some point, my eyes close and the dialogue fades. The last thing I notice is Rowen’s soft laugh at the screen, the sound of popcorn shifting in the bowl.
And then I’m gone—fast asleep beside him.