Twenty-three #3
“You,” she snarled. I knew from Mason’s stories (and from watching her glare daggers at Cedric during the meeting) that she was the fiery one. “Nobody listens—I knew it was you. What the hell do you think you’re doing with my baby—?”
“Talia.”
My back stiffened at the arrival of Mason’s mom. She was even taller than her daughter, and that was without the extra inches afforded by her afro. Though she had addressed Talia, her eyes were glued to me.
“Misses, uh, Alpha, ma’am. Your son played a great game, huh?”
I should have known they’d be here. Mason had definitely known, and he’d pulled that stunt anyway. I didn’t know whether to be angry or touched.
She didn’t beat around the bush. “Explain yourself, Callisto heir.”
Her glare was colder than Talia’s and more unnerving. Dread forced me a step back, across the white line of a parking spot.
“That’s, um. Loaded question.”
“It wasn’t a question.”
“I feel like this is a conversation you should have with Mason.”
“I certainly will,” said Daphne Kane.
“Later,” her husband added placatingly, standing back a few feet.
I got the feeling he was the only thing stopping her from storming back into the stadium to interrogate their son.
Beside him was Mason’s oldest sister, Ericka, and farther behind them, a small group of onlookers, who I guessed were part of the pack.
“But I’ll say this to you now so there can be no miscommunication between us,” said Daphne. “We made an agreement that our blood would never again mix. That is not limited to clashes of violence. Do you understand the gravity of what you’re doing? What is your true motive?”
Motive? Did she think I wanted to hurt Mason? My mouth worked uselessly. I didn’t know what to say. What would Dad do?
“I don’t mean any harm. Ma’am.”
“Don’t mean any harm?” she sneered. It was clear, looking between her and Talia and Roger Kane and Ericka, which child had taken after which parent’s personality.
“This kind of intermingling starts wars, Callisto. Tell me, did the two of you have a plan when you started”—she waved a hand like she was swatting away a fly—“whatever this is? Did you even once stop to consider what it would mean?”
Mason’s mom was terrifying. I imagined the white line in the asphalt as a barrier between us.
“Of course we did.”
“Is that so? Are there going to be family dinners between your clan and my pack?” she asked derisively.
“How do you plan to provide for my son’s needs?
When the time comes for him to lead his own pack, are you going to abandon your clan to live among wolves?
And tell me this—how do you plan to provide my son an heir? ”
“Mom,” Ericka said, but she quieted after one freezing look from her leader.
I took another step back and felt the bumper of a car against my calf. “I . . . I don’t . . .”
Talia laughed unkindly. Daphne said, “Of course you don’t. You may believe you’re too young to worry about your future, but Mason isn’t.”
“I’m . . .” My instinct was to say sorry just to get out of this conversation. But I didn’t want to be sorry.
“It will have to end, of course,” Daphne said simply.
“What?” I balked. “No way.”
“Yikes,” Ericka whispered to her dad, who nodded gravely. She and Roger were shorter, stockier. Their red hair looked like fire in the late-afternoon sun.
The light made Daphne’s dark skin seem to glow, radiating her fury. She stepped forward, crossing over the white line. “It will end,” she said. “Whether you can overcome this childish whim or not. My son will listen to reason.”
“Good luck with that,” I scoffed, then immediately pressed my lips together.
“Oh no,” murmured Roger. I was not cut out for this. That old itchy feeling, worse with so many of them around, wasn’t helping.
Daphne’s face twisted viciously. I looked around like someone nearby might intervene, but we were in a parking lot after a huge game—ours wasn’t the only altercation or even the worst. A few rows down, a pair of freshmen in opposing school colors looked like they were about to throw fists.
“You insolent—”
“I’m his mate,” I blurted.
Daphne paused with her mouth open, a perfect freeze-frame of shock. The rest of her family wore the same astonished look, even the eavesdroppers in the back. I hadn’t wanted to be the one to tell them.
Talia was the first to recover.
“No wonder,” she said. “He didn’t have a choice.”
“He had a choice.” I leveled her with a hot glower of my own. “He chooses me every single day. And I choose him.”
Daphne raised a hand before her daughter could bite back. The alpha was scrutinizing me.
She lowered her hackles and seemed to age before my eyes.
“There will have to be a meeting. This week,” she said. “In order for our families to navigate this . . . unprecedented circumstance.”
“We can’t,” I said. “My family doesn’t know.”
Daphne narrowed her eyes. I felt like a bug under a microscope. “This isn’t something that can remain a secret. How long do you intend to cower from the reality of the situation?”
“With all due respect, Mrs. Alpha, ma’am, that’s between me and my family.”
Daphne raised her eyebrows. I tried not to shrink under her stare.
Eventually, she said, “At least you aren’t spineless.”
She turned on her heels. Her husband put a thick arm around her waist, and her pack converged around her. Only Ericka lingered.
She darted forward. I flinched, but she only wrapped me in a short hug. “Welcome,” she said, then hurried after her family.
I stood there, perplexed, for a while. Long enough that the parking lot lights flickered on.