Silas #4
“We should probably put him down before dinner,” she says. “Once he gets overtired, he starts screaming like Evander when he loses an argument.”
“I don’t lose arguments,” Evander mutters.
Isaac pats his shoulder. “Of course not. If you want to take everyone through, Si, I can sort the food.”
I nod and gesture for everyone not caring for Dellan to follow me. Uri carries the travel cot into the smaller family room beside the lounge, while Oscar follows with the monitor, and Paxton takes the baby from Emmeline.
They move with the ease of a settled pack, passing Dellan and his things between them without needing to ask.
They simply know what the others need. I watch them for a brief second before leaving for the dining room.
I’m glad it still looks exactly as I left it, the candlelight warm against the polished glasses as everyone picks their seats without any fanfare.
Cassidy sits between Harlan and Evander near the middle of the table. I leave space for Isaac on Evander’s other side and go through to help him with the food.
We plate things easily, the kitchen warm with the scent of the food, and I carry through the starters as he readies everything for the main.
Dinner begins easily beneath the low music drifting in from the next room.
The food is praised. More wine is poured. The baby monitor crackles every few minutes, drawing half the room’s attention even though Dellan remains asleep.
The conversation flows without effort, moving between work, travel, fashion, and embarrassing childhood stories that Cassidy and Harlan both attempt to shut down.
I finally let myself relax once the main course has started. This isn’t bad at all. Things are going well—perfect, even.
Then Vivienne places her wineglass down with a soft click against the table and leans forward a little, resting her gaze on her daughter.
I don’t like the challenge in the alpha’s stare, especially not when it’s fixed on my mate.
“So,” she says, looking between us, “have you informed work about the mating yet?”
Cassidy goes still between Harlan and Evander, strawberry cream thinning beneath a sudden spike of anxious vanilla as her face pales beneath the warm candlelight. The atmosphere shifts around the table, alpha scents sharpening almost at once as every protective instinct snaps awake.
Every instinct I possess snaps back to attention, black tea and fig turning sharper as my body prepares to defend my mate and pack.
Nobody answers immediately. Not because we don’t have an answer—although I doubt anyone but me has one prepared—but because every person around the table is watching Cassidy.
The conversation from the other end of the dining room has fallen away. Cutlery has stopped scraping against china. Even Sterling, who has spent most of dinner shifting between amusement and boredom, has gone still beside Emmeline.
There are too many eyes on my mate. Too many expectations I should’ve shielded her from.
Evander’s hand settles on Cassidy’s arm, the faint scars across his knuckles visible as his broad palm covers the back of her hand without squeezing.
He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t tell her it’s fine. Doesn’t promise to fix a problem she hasn’t even been allowed to explain yet.
I wish we were alone so I could tell him that was exactly right.
Evander’s slowly learning not to rush and fix the problem or throw out some overconfident reassurance that never actually helps her.
Isaac leans subtly towards her from Evander’s other side, one rolled sleeve brushing the edge of the table, his expression still relaxed enough that nobody outside the pack would recognise the change.
I do.
Harlan does, too.
My brother’s gaze drops briefly to where Evander’s shoulder and scent shield Cassidy, making sure she’s covered before he looks away.
Only once he’s satisfied she’s safe does his molten hazel stare snap towards Vivienne. His jaw tightens until the muscle jumps beneath his skin.
Fuck. Pride hits me so sharply that it nearly distracts from my anger.
This is what I’ve wanted from them. What we’ve all needed from each other.
Cassidy swallows, a faint distressed sweetness catching beneath the heavier scents around the table. Her fingers curl around the stem of her wineglass, although she hasn’t taken a drink in several minutes.
“We haven’t—”
“We’ve discussed it,” Isaac says gently, cutting in before she can force herself through an explanation she isn’t ready to give.
Her eyes flick towards him, strawberry cream turning uncertain as she tries to work out whether she should apologise. He offers her a small smile, and relief escapes her in a quiet exhale.
Not for the first time tonight, I wish I knew what she was feeling. There are too many people in the room and too many scents layered beneath the food, wine, and candles.
Cassidy’s strawberry cream is buried beneath the food, wine, and competing alpha scents, leaving only anxious traces of vanilla when she shifts.
Vivienne’s brows lift. “Discussed telling them, or discussed what happens when they find out?”
A fork touches a plate somewhere near Adrian, the faint clink unnaturally sharp in the suddenly silent dining room and enough to make Cassidy’s grip on her glass tighten.
Harlan’s chair creaks, warm brioche turning scorched beneath a bitter edge of citrus as he prepares to snap.
Julie glances towards him immediately, recognising the danger in his posture. Beside her, Adrian sits back in his chair, studying Harlan with narrowed eyes.
“Vivienne,” Elliot says quietly.
“What?” she asks, turning towards him. “It’s a reasonable question to ask of my only child. She hasn’t got the luxury the rest of these have.”
The rest of these.
My hand stills against the tablecloth. Interesting choice of words.
“It’s fine to ask,” Cassidy says quickly.
Too quickly.
She’s trying to make them comfortable, no matter the cost to her.
Of fucking course she is.
Cassidy has spent her entire life learning how to anticipate her parents’ needs, soften their worries, and make herself useful enough that nobody has to carry anything difficult on her behalf.
She’ll bleed herself dry, then apologise for getting blood on their hands.
“We just haven’t decided exactly how we’re going to handle it yet,” she continues. “Because, obviously, it could affect work and—”
Evander’s thumb strokes the back of her hand, his dark chocolate and coffee rolling warmer towards her until the words catch in her throat. Cassidy’s head dips, and a strand of hair slips forward to hide part of her face.
Her nerves are clear for us all to see. Well, everyone except her fucking parents.
Or perhaps they notice and believe this is still necessary.
I’m not sure which possibility pisses me off more.
She should be enjoying the life she’s chosen, not defending it.
Darwin places his fork carefully against the edge of his plate. “It’s not just work, though, duckling. You’re all in the public eye to some extent. Harlan and Silas, especially.”
“I’m aware of that, thank you,” Harlan says coldly.
Darwin looks towards him. “I wasn’t suggesting you weren’t.”
“No.” Harlan’s voice sharpens. “You were suggesting Cassidy hadn’t thought about it.”
Julie exhales softly and folds her napkin beside her plate. “Harlan, nobody is accusing Cassidy of being thoughtless.”
Cassidy straightens a fraction.
“My dad didn’t mean it like that,” she says, although her voice has lost some of its brightness. “He worries. They all do.”
Harlan’s eyes flick towards her, and the violence in his expression dulls at once, the sharp citrus in his scent settling beneath her attention.
Only for her could he calm himself this quickly.
Darwin leans forward. “I know you think things through, duckling. I’m only saying there’s more happening here than there would be in an ordinary pack.”
“And you’ve reached this conclusion because…?” I ask mildly.
His gaze shifts to me.
“Because of all of it,” he says. “The company. Harlan’s career. Your position. The age difference.”
Around the table, several people shift almost at once, chairs creaking against the floor beneath the sudden movement.
Sterling’s brows pull together. Emmeline looks down at her glass, although the movement does nothing to hide the hardening of her expression.
Julie glances between Cassidy and Harlan, her expressive brows drawing together as she debates whether or not to speak her mind.
As always, she does.
“We did notice the way you looked holding the baby earlier,” she says carefully. “You were wonderful with him, Cassidy.”
Oh, don’t fucking go there, Mother.
Don’t fucking dare.
“But you’re still young,” she continues. “And, well, I know my sons, and they’re at a different point in their lives. It’s reasonable to wonder whether you all want the same things at the same time.”
Dark chocolate and bitter coffee flare from Evander, but he remains still, while Isaac’s usually warm caramel turns unnaturally flat as he glares at my mum.
Harlan looks ready to throw the dining table through a wall.
Cassidy, though, surprises me. Surprises us all.
She takes a breath, then lifts her head, meeting my mum’s pitied expression. “I know how old they are.”
The words are quiet, but Cassidy’s scent steadies beneath them, enough steel entering the sweetness that Julie pauses with her fingers still curled around the stem of her glass.
My good girl. My perfect girl.
“I didn’t think you didn’t,” Julie says.
“Then why does everyone keep speaking as though I’ve somehow missed it?” Cassidy asks. “As though we’ve all just ignored the realities of our life?”
The silence that follows is shocked, and nobody seems to know what to say next.
Her parents stare at her. Adrian’s brows rise slightly. Celeste, seated farther down the table, lowers her wineglass and gives Cassidy the smallest nod.
She’s come so far with us, but confronting the people who taught her to make herself small takes a kind of bravery I’ll never fully understand.
Vivienne’s expression softens. “Lovebug, we’re not trying to make you feel foolish.”