Chapter 27
CADE
I’ve made decisions that cost lives and carried the weight of them without hesitation, because that’s what an alpha does. We don’t falter. We don’t question. We move, and the pack follows.
This should feel the same. Yet, it doesn’t.
The difference stands a few steps ahead of me, surrounded by smiling faces and the low hum of voices. Rowan moves through the pack like she’s always belonged here, because she has.
Wolves part for her without thinking, just as they do for me.
My chest tightens, something sharp and unfamiliar catching beneath my ribs. Pride, mostly.
Because we didn’t have to take the respect or trust from them. They’re freely giving it now, and it’s time for us to show them that they’re right in doing so.
All by leading my mate straight into the place that tried to break her.
The thought settles heavy in my gut, but I don’t let it show. I can’t.
Not when every set of eyes in this yard will be looking to me and Rowan for the next hour, waiting for direction and certainty, for the kind of strength that doesn’t crack under pressure.
An alpha doesn’t get the luxury of doubt.
So, I don’t hesitate as I step forward, my presence enough to shift the energy around us. Conversations quiet just slightly, attentions sharpening, and instincts aligning. It’s subtle, but it’s there.
They’re ready.
At least as much as they can be.
Elias stays with us, his posture straight and focused. Bram lingers nearby, still glued to his phone, coordinating pieces of a plan that’s bigger than any one pack. Across the yard, I spot others doing the same—wolves checking in, adjusting and preparing.
This is what we need.
Control in the chaos.
I reach for Rowan without looking, my hand finding hers like it always knows where she is. Her fingers slide into mine easily, and for a brief second, the noise around us fades.
Not because the world has gone quiet, but because she centers it.
Yet, even as I hold onto Rowan, my focus keeps pulling back to one thing.
One person.
Because this isn’t just another fight. This isn’t just another enemy.
This is the man who thinks he can take her from me.
And I’ve already decided the only way that can happen.
Over my dead body.
Pushing the tension out of my body, I guide Rowan toward the open seats, my hand brushing lightly against her back as we approach.
Elias takes his seat, posture relaxed but alert in that way of his that never fully turns off.
Bram drops onto the bench beside him a second later, finally shoving his phone into his pocket like he’s conceding, for now anyway, that whatever he’s been organizing can survive without him for a few minutes.
Liz is already seated across from where Rowan stands, her gaze flicking between the two of us with a sharpness that says she’s tracking everything—even now.
Jocelyn is here too, Marius next to her, and a sleeping Archie around her neck. Though with the way his nose is twitching, I doubt that will be the case for much longer.
And Iris…
Iris doesn’t sit. Not even after Rowan and I do.
The old kook hovers at the head of the table for a moment, looking entirely too pleased with herself, before dragging a chair into place with a loud huff and dropping into it like she’s claiming the territory.
“Family table,” she declares, as if anyone might dare to argue.
A few nearby wolves chuckle under their breath, the tension easing just slightly.
In my seat beside Rowan, letting my forearms rest against the table, I scan the spread in front of us—plates piled high with food, steam still curling into the cool evening air. It smells like home. Like something steady and grounding in a world that refuses to stay that way for long.
For a second, no one speaks.
The pause, proving just how much this all matters.
Elias breaks it first, glancing around the table before his attention lands on me. “Didn’t think we’d get something like this before heading into a fight.”
“We wouldn’t have,” I reply evenly. “Not before.”
He huffs a quiet laugh. “Guess more than a few things are changing.”
My gaze flicks to Rowan, then back to the table. “They are.”
Because it’s not just the dinner. It’s everything.
The way the pack showed up. The way they’ve settled instead of scattered. The way they’re watching—not with terror, but with expectation.
I lean back slightly, letting my gaze travel beyond our table, over the rest of the yard. Conversations have picked back up, quieter still, but steady. Wolves pass dishes back and forth. Someone further down the line laughs, the sound cutting through the low hum of voices.
They’re not pretending nothing is coming. They know exactly what’s ahead. But they’re here anyway.
My chest tightens, something solid locking into place.
This is what it’s supposed to feel like to be alpha.
Not fractured or divided, but whole.
I shift forward, my presence sharpening just enough to pull attention where it needs to go. I don’t raise my voice. I don’t need to.
“Listen up.”
The words carry, quieting the surrounding tables in a ripple effect that moves outward faster than sound should travel. Conversations taper off, heads turn, and focus snaps into place.
“We don’t know exactly what’s waiting for us at The Keep,” I say, my gaze moving across the pack, meeting eyes where I can. “But we know who we’re walking into.”
I don’t say his name. I don’t have to.
“He wants control. More than that, he wants a show, and he’s counting on us to play into that.”
A few wolves shift, tension tightening across shoulders, and hands curling into fists.
“But we won’t give him anything he hasn’t earned.” My voice hardens just slightly, enough to cut through whatever doubt might still be lingering. “We move as one, we follow the plan, and we don’t break unless there’s no other choice.”
I let that settle for a beat before adding, quieter but no less firm, “And when we come back together, we celebrate, just like this.”
Not if.
When.
The statement lands heavier than the rest because it’s not a promise. It’s a command I intend to enforce at all costs.
Silence stretches for half a heartbeat before Elias nods once, sharp and sure. Others follow, the motion spreading through the pack like a pulse.
Agreement and commitment from all.
I sit back, the edge of demand easing just enough to let the moment breathe again.
“Eat,” I add simply. “You’ll need it.”
The tension breaks, not completely, but enough. Conversations resume, quieter now and more focused. Plates shift as more dishes get passed down the line.
I reach for Rowan again, my attention narrowing to her alone.
Her eyes meet mine, and there’s no doubt there. Just pride—steady and unwavering in a way that settles something deep in my chest.
This certainty is what I was missing before when we first came back to Solara. I hadn’t been sure I deserved all that was being offered to me. Whether I’d abandoned it for too long or if the pack would ever truly accept me again.
But it was never up to them.
It’s always been on me to claim what’s mine.
My mate. My home. This pack.
And now, I know. This is where I’m meant to be and I won’t let any of them down, most of all, the stunning woman staring back at me.
Across from us, Rowan’s attention shifts—not to the food or to the conversation waiting to start—but to her mom.
It’s subtle. Most wouldn’t notice it, but I do.
The way her shoulders angle just slightly toward Jocelyn. The way her gaze lingers a second longer than necessary, like she’s cataloging every detail—the color in her cheeks, the steadiness of her breathing, the way her hands rest against the table instead of trembling.
Jocelyn’s stronger than she was when we pulled her out of that hell. Marius stays close, not touching her, but near enough that it wouldn’t take more than a heartbeat to reach her if she faltered.
Rowan doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t need to. At least for me.
I sense the certainty settle through my mate. She has so much more to fight for than she probably could have imagined before showing up at NightShade that first day.
And it’s a quiet reminder that I don’t ignore.
This isn’t just any battle we’re about to face.
It’s personal, and the stakes have never been higher for some of us.
Without needing to say the words, we eat and soak up the company of those around us, listening to the voices of our pack, of our family.
My connection to each of them pulses stronger with each minute that passes, but it’s not long before that moment ends. Before we’re out of time.
The air changes. It’s subtle at first. But the shift in pressure isn’t something that can get by me. A pull beneath the surface, like something unseen has taken a breath and hasn’t let it go yet.
Across the yard, a low hum begins to build, faint but unmistakable.
Magic.
My head lifts, instincts snapping into place as the first flicker of light cuts through the dimming evening sky near the edge of the clearing.
The first portal opens, and Katerina steps out. The coven leader finds me amongst the crowd and nods just once.
Rowan’s hold tightens around my fingers, but she doesn’t tremble.
Instead, we stand together as more magic tears into the fabric of our existence.
“It’s time.”
And just like that… The calm ends.