Chapter 27 #2
“There’s a place nearby,” she said quietly, reading his uncertainty. “A private courtyard behind the textile exchange. My father used it for discreet meetings.”
He glanced at her, surprised at the suggestion, but she met his gaze steadily.
“He’s your friend. Talk to him.”
The courtyard was small but well-maintained, its walls covered in climbing vines that blocked the view from surrounding buildings. A single bench sat beneath a twisted ornamental tree, and the sound of a small fountain masked their conversation from any nearby ears.
Baylin settled against the far wall, his posture deliberately relaxed but his eyes still watchful.
Old habits. Ember sat on the bench, and he positioned himself between her and his former second—not because he expected a threat, but because the protective instinct was too deeply ingrained to ignore.
“So,” Baylin said. “The mountains.”
“The mountains.”
“All these years.” Baylin shook his head slowly. “I kept expecting you to come back. To challenge your brother for what was rightfully yours. When you didn’t…” He trailed off, something painful flickering in his amber eyes.
“I made my choice.”
“I know. I never understood it, but I respected it.” Baylin’s jaw tightened. “Which is more than I can say for what came after.”
The old familiar tension coiled in his chest. “What happened?”
“What do you think happened?” Baylin asked bitterly.
“Your brother is weak, Rykan. He always was. Without you there to balance him, without your father’s guidance…
” He spread his hands in a gesture of helpless frustration.
“Lysara controls him completely. She and your stepmother have turned the pack into their personal plaything. Anyone who questioned them was driven out or worse.”
Lysara. The female who’d promised herself to him, but had spread her legs for his brother the moment it became clear which way the wind was blowing.
He’d thought he was past the pain of her betrayal.
He’d thought the years in the mountains and the happiness he’d found with Ember had burned it out of him.
But hearing her name now, spoken so casually, brought it all rushing back.
Ember’s hand found his, her fingers intertwining with his own. She said nothing, asked nothing, simply offered her presence as an anchor.
He clung to that grip.
“I stayed for three years,” Baylin continued.
“Telling myself I could make a difference from the inside. That I could protect the ones who deserved protecting. But it was like trying to hold back a flood with my bare hands.” His scarred fingers curled into fists.
“They pushed out the old guard one by one. Anyone who remembered what the pack used to be. Anyone who might have been loyal to you.”
“Why didn’t you leave sooner?”
“Because you asked me to stay.” Baylin’s eyes met his, raw and honest. “You asked me to protect them. I tried, Rykan. I tried until there was nothing left to protect.”
The guilt hit him harder than he’d expected. He’d walked away from the pack to prevent a war, but he’d left others to fight the battles he’d refused to face. Baylin had paid the price for his choice.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Baylin’s voice softened slightly.
“You did what you had to do. We all did. I just… couldn’t do it anymore.
” He rolled his shoulders, working out tension that had accumulated over years of conflict.
“So I left. Wandered. Tried to figure out what a Vultor does when he doesn’t have a pack anymore. ”
“And what did you find?”
Baylin gave a hollow laugh. “That the world is very large and very cold when you’re alone in it. I’ve been drifting from settlement to settlement, taking whatever work I could find. Nothing that mattered. Nothing that lasted.” His gaze sharpened. “But you seem to have found something different.”
He looked at Ember—at the female who’d arrived in his territory half-dead and somehow become the center of his world.
“I wasn’t looking for it.”
“The best things rarely come when we’re looking.” Baylin studied them both, something thoughtful in his expression. “The last Alpha’s son, living in a human city with a human mate. I never would have predicted this ending for you.”
“It’s not an ending.”
“No?” Baylin raised an eyebrow. “What is it, then?”
He considered the question. Two weeks ago, he might have called it a willing surrender to a world that wasn’t his, for the sake of the woman he loved. But that wasn’t quite right, was it?
“A beginning,” he said finally. “Something new.”
Ember’s fingers tightened around his.
Baylin was silent for a long moment, his amber eyes unreadable. Then, slowly, he nodded.
“I’m glad. Truly. You deserved better than what they did to you.” His voice roughened. “We all did.”
The silence stretched between them, heavy with shared history and unspoken grief. Then Ember spoke, her voice soft but steady.
“What will you do now, Baylin? If you don’t mind my asking.”
Baylin shrugged, the gesture carrying the weight of years of uncertainty. “Keep wandering, I suppose. There’s work to be found if you’re willing to take what’s offered. Security contracts. Enforcement jobs.” His lip curled slightly. “Nothing particularly honorable. But everyone has to eat.”
He glanced at Ember, saw the question in her eyes, and made his decision.
“I need someone I can trust.”
Baylin’s expression flickered. “What?”
“Ember is the heir to Duvain Enterprises. She has enemies—some she’s dealt with, others still hidden.” He held his former second’s gaze. “I’ve taken over her security, but I can’t do it alone. I need warriors at my back. Warriors I trust.”
Understanding dawned in Baylin’s amber eyes. “You’re offering me a position.”
“I’m offering you a purpose.” He paused. “My second. Like before.”
Baylin stood motionless, his face unreadable, and Rykan could see the conflict playing out behind his eyes. The longing for something stable, something meaningful. The fear of committing to something that might be taken away again.
“She’s human,” Baylin said finally. “Your mate. Your employer. The pack won’t—”
“There is no pack. Not here.” His voice was firm. “Here, there is Ember. Her company. Her people. And anyone who chooses to stand with us.”
Baylin looked at Ember, really looked, and he watched his former second see what he himself had seen in those first days in the mountains.
The quiet strength beneath the delicate surface.
The intelligence that assessed everything around it.
The determination that burned like banked coals, ready to flare into flame at the slightest provocation.
“You chose well,” Baylin said softly. “Better than I would have expected.”
“Will you stay?”
Another long pause. Then Baylin’s scarred features shifted into something that might have been a smile.
“I’ll try,” he said, his voice rough. “I should warn you—I’ve been restless. Unable to settle anywhere for long. This might be temporary.”
“Temporary is better than nothing.”
“Perhaps.” Baylin straightened, his posture shifting into something more formal—the stance of a warrior accepting a charge. “I offer you my service, then. For as long as I can give it.”
The old words, spoken in the old way. Something loosened in his chest, a tension he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying.
“And I accept it. Welcome back, my friend.”
Baylin’s smile widened slightly. “It’s good to have a pack again. Even a small one.”
They clasped forearms in the warrior’s grip, and for a moment he was transported back to another time. A time when he was younger and less scarred, when he still believed the world was something that could be conquered through strength and loyalty alone.
The world had proven him wrong. But perhaps, in this unexpected place with these unexpected people, he could build something new from the wreckage of what had been lost.
Ember rose from the bench, smoothing her simple clothes with hands that trembled only slightly. “We should head back. If I’m gone too long, Tomas will worry.”
“Tomas?” Baylin asked.
“The head of my household. He’s been with my family since before I was born.”
“Good. Loyalty is rare.” Baylin fell into step behind them as they moved towards the courtyard exit, automatically taking the position of rear guard. “This tower of yours—how many entry points?”
“Seven primary, twelve secondary, and at least four that aren’t supposed to exist.” He glanced back at his friend. “I’ve already begun addressing the vulnerabilities.”
“Have you now?” Baylin’s laugh was low and genuine. “Some things never change. You always were obsessed with perimeter security.”
“It kept us alive.”
“That it did.”
They emerged from the courtyard into the market’s late afternoon chaos. The crowds had thickened as the workday ended, humans and aliens alike flowing through the narrow streets in a tide of color and noise.
He positioned himself at Ember’s side, with Baylin a half-step behind. The formation was automatic, instinctive—the triangle of protection that had served them through countless patrols in another life.
She noticed. Her eyes flickered between them, taking in the coordinated movements, the wordless communication.
“You’ve done this before,” she observed. “Worked together.”
“Many times.” He guided her around a cluster of tourists gawking at a street performer. “Baylin was the best enforcer in the pack. Fast, clever, and absolutely ruthless when necessary.”
“High praise, coming from you,” Baylin said dryly. “I seem to recall you describing me as ‘adequate’ during most of our training sessions.”
“I was motivating you.”
“You were being an ass.”
She laughed—that same startled, genuine sound that Rykan had been chasing all afternoon. The tension of the market encounter had faded, replaced by something lighter. A sense of camaraderie he’d been missing for way too long.