Chapter 25 #2
He looks between us, clearly aware that he has stepped into a landmine he didn’t set.
“I’m staying out of this,” he says carefully.
Chicken, I tell him through the pack link. You agree with me, don’t you?
Maybe, he replies privately, his mental tone tinged with amusement despite the situation. But I’m not telling your mother that. Her counterargument is that she can’t technically die by supernatural means.
But she can be tortured!
I know, baby girl. I know.
Mom nudges me sharply with her foot. “Hey. None of that mind-speak nonsense. If you’re going to talk about me, at least have the decency to do it to my face.”
“Maybe later,” Dad says aloud, though I feel his reassurance through the bond a moment later. I’ll find a way to keep her here. Even if we have to lock her and Iris up.
A reluctant breath leaves my lungs. Thank you.
“Cade’s almost done meeting with the other wolves,” Dad adds, giving Mom’s arm a gentle tug. “He’ll be on his way up soon. Why don’t we give them a little time alone?”
“But we just got here,” Liz protests with a dramatic pout, though she’s already inching toward the door.
“We’ll have dinner together before we leave,” I promise. Though I don’t let go of Archie, and he doesn’t make a move to leave as the others turn toward the door.
“I’ll hold you to that,” Liz calls over her shoulder before disappearing down the hallway.
“Love you,” Mom says next, pressing a kiss to my cheek before allowing Dad to guide her toward the door.
“Love you both,” I reply, meaning it with a depth that feels heavier tonight.
“We love you too,” Dad answers, his voice low and steady as he closes the door behind them.
The room falls quiet again, but it’s a softer silence now—one shaped by warmth rather than tension.
I look down at Archie, still lazily draped across my legs while I scratch his belly. “What do you think about all this?”
He doesn’t answer immediately, and when he does, his tone carries a level of honesty that makes my chest tighten. “I think you don’t really need me anymore, and I’m not entirely sure how I feel about that.”
There’s no accusation in his voice. No bitterness. Just truth.
“I’ll always need you,” I say without hesitation. “You’ve been my person since the day you showed up in my bedroom and refused to leave.”
His whiskers twitch slightly. “I know. And we’ll find a new normal once Malrik is dealt with.” He pauses, studying me more carefully. “Do you really think letting him live is wise?”
I don’t bristle at the question. I welcome it.
“All I know is that I’m not a killer,” I answer slowly.
“If he gives me the opportunity to let him live, then I have to take it. The only lives I’ve taken have been in self-defense, and I don’t regret those choices.
But I also don’t want to become someone who chooses death when another path might exist. You heard what happened to him. ”
Archie nods thoughtfully. “But bad things happen to people every day. It doesn’t give them permission to become monsters. Otherwise, the world would already be drowning in chaos.”
He isn’t wrong, and yet…
“This feels different,” I admit quietly. “Maybe because he’s Ashmark like me, or because I don’t believe that he asked for what that coven did to him. At least not in the beginning.”
The thought lingers between us.
“Maybe I’m wrong,” I continue, exhaling slowly. “I guess we’ll find out tonight.”
“We will,” he says, shifting upright and meeting my eyes. “And I’ll be right there making sure you walk away from this.”
Emotion tightens my throat again, but this time it’s steadier.
Through the bond, I feel Cade drawing closer, his presence unmistakable—warm and threaded directly into my pulse.
“And now,” I add gently, carrying Archie toward the door, “I have to kick you out with all my love and hugs.”
“I love you, Rowan,” Archie says as I set him down. His gaze holds mine in a way that is far older than his small body suggests. “More than any other being I’ve encountered in the last five decades. Nothing is going to happen to you.”
“I love you too,” I whisper, bending to give him one last kiss before straightening.
When I rise, Cade is already there at the end of the hallway.
He doesn’t rush. He doesn’t speak. He simply walks toward me with that deliberate, controlled stride of his, and his eyes are locked on me as though I’m the only thing tying him to this world.
I can see the fear in them, though he tries to hide it beneath resolve. I can see the pride, too. The respect. The unwavering belief.
He hates that I’ve been placed in this position. He hates that I have to walk into danger by design, but he believes in me.
Possibly more than I believe in myself.
For that, I’m eternally grateful.
He reaches me in a single fluid motion, scooping me up without warning and carrying me back into our room as if I weigh nothing at all. The door shuts behind us with a quiet but decisive click.
A startled laugh escapes me. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Holding my mate,” he growls softly, though there’s no anger in it. Only need. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“Not in the least,” I murmur, wrapping my arms around his neck as the world beyond this room fades for just a little while longer.
He doesn’t set me down right away.
Instead, Cade lowers himself onto the edge of the bed with me still in his arms, one hand firm at my waist, the other spread wide against my back as if he needs to feel that I’m solid and real.
I can sense the restraint in him. Not the kind that holds anger back, but the kind that keeps fear from spilling over.
His forehead presses against mine, and for a few quiet seconds, neither of us speaks.
We don’t need to.
Through the bond, I feel everything he isn’t saying out loud. The sharp edge of his protectiveness. The controlled violence simmering beneath his skin. The absolute refusal to lose me.
And beneath all of that, something steadier.
Faith. Not blind hope. Not desperation. But faith in me.
His hand slides from my back to the side of my neck, his thumb brushing slowly along my pulse point as though memorizing the rhythm.
My fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, grounding myself in the heat and strength of him.
The world beyond this room—the wolves, the vampires, the witches, and Malrik waiting somewhere in the dark—feels distant for just a moment.
“You’re vibrating with energy,” I murmur softly.
“Only a little,” he replies, his voice low and rough around the edges. “With all the alphas here and knowing what’s at stake… It’s a lot.”
I smile faintly at that, even as my chest tightens.
He lifts his head just enough to look at me fully, and the intensity in his golden eyes steals the breath from my lungs. There’s no doubt there. No hesitation. Only certainty.
His hand moves from my neck to my jaw, tilting my face up to his. The kiss that follows isn’t rushed or frantic. It’s deliberate.
His mouth claims mine slowly at first, firm and sure, like he’s sealing something between us that doesn’t need words. The world narrows to the heat of his lips, the slide of his fingers into my hair, the way his other arm tightens around my waist as though anchoring us together.
I kiss him back just as fiercely, pouring every ounce of resolve, every thread of devotion, and every piece of myself into the connection. There’s nothing hesitant about it. Nothing fragile.
We’re not saying goodbye. We’re reminding each other who we are.
The bond between us surges, warm and electric, wrapping around my ribs and settling deep in my chest. I feel his strength thread through me, and I give mine right back. This isn’t about protection or sacrifice.
It’s about standing side by side.
When we finally pull apart, it isn’t because we want to, but because we don’t need to keep proving what already exists between us.
His forehead rests against mine again, our breaths mingling.
No grand declarations. No whispered promises made out of fear. Just certainty.
He brushes his thumb along my cheek once more before lowering his hand, though he doesn’t pull away.
Through the bond, I feel it.
Magic gathering. The witches.
It hums at the edges of Solara like a storm rolling in.
Cade senses it too. His posture shifts, not in tension, but in readiness.
“We don’t have a lot of time,” he murmurs.
I draw in one steady breath and let it out slowly.
For so long, I’ve felt like I was reacting—running toward answers, stumbling into truths, discovering power I never asked for. But being here now, wrapped in the strength of my mate and the love of my family, I don’t feel hunted.
I feel chosen.
Not by prophecy or fate.
By myself.
Whatever Malrik thinks he’s about to prove, whatever audience he believes he’s assembled to watch me fall, he has misunderstood one fundamental truth.
I’m not walking into this fight because I’m forced to.
I’m walking into it because I’ve decided to.
And that makes all the difference.