10. The Fourth Howl
Chapter ten
The Fourth Howl
Sunday dinner at the Voss house was apparently was a long-standing tradition. And as last night’s discussion with the family had shown me, I was safe and truly welcome here. I needed to learn how to accept that.
Rowena had invited me with the casual certainty of a woman who didn't take no for an answer, "You're part of the household now, dear, and we don't let household members starve on Sundays" and now I'd found myself at a table full of people I barely knew, eating enough food to feed a small army.
The dining room was impressive in the way that old Southern money often was: high ceilings, heavy furniture, paintings on the walls that looked like they’d been there for generations.
But it didn’t feel stuffy or formal. It felt lived-in.
Warm. The kind of room where people had been gathering for decades, where the scratches on the table told stories and the slightly faded curtains meant more than any designer fabric ever could.
Rowena presided over the meal like a general commanding troops, directing the flow of dishes and conversation with practiced ease.
The triplets fell into patterns I was beginning to recognize: Callum at the head of the table, quiet and watchful; Jasper filling silences with easy chatter; Eli listening more than speaking, his attention moving from face to face like he was recording everything.
And then there was Dex Fontaine.
Up close, the auto shop owner was even more intimidating than he'd seemed at The Daily Grind.
He was approximately the size of a doorframe, with shoulders that strained his button-down shirt and a face that suggested he found most of humanity mildly suspicious.
When he looked at me, I felt like I was being evaluated for structural integrity.
He’d arrived just before dinner, greeting Rowena with a kiss on the cheek and the brothers with the kind of casual physicality that spoke of long familiarity—a clap on Callum’s shoulder, a mock punch to Jasper’s arm, a nod to Eli that seemed to communicate entire conversations.
When Rowena introduced us, his eyes swept over me with an assessment that felt almost clinical.
"You're the tenant," he said. Not a question.
"I'm the tenant."
"From Atlanta."
"Originally."
"Running from something."
I stiffened. "Excuse me?"
"People who move to Magnolia Creek are usually running from something." He shrugged, muscles shifting under his shirt. "Not judging. Just observing."
"That's a lot of observing for someone who just met me."
"I keep my eyes open."
“There’s a whole lot of ‘paying attention’ that happens in this town.”
A flicker of approval crossed his face. "You push back. Good. These fellas need someone who pushes back."
"I'm—I'm just a guest."
He laughed. It was a surprisingly warm sound, at odds with his intimidating exterior. " And I'm just a mechanic."
Before I could ask what that meant, Rowena was piling more food on my plate, and the moment passed.
Dinner was an experience.
The food kept coming: roast chicken, three kinds of vegetables, fresh bread, some kind of rice dish that made me want to weep with gratitude.
The conversation flowed around me like a river.
I learned that Dex had grown up with the triplets, that he’d been coming to Sunday dinners since he was twelve, that Rowena considered him her “fourth son, whether he likes it or not.”
I caught Rowena watching her sons at one point—all three of them laughing at something Dex had said—and the look on her face wasn’t just maternal pride.
There was grief in it. The kind of grief that comes from knowing exactly what your choices cost, and choosing to pay anyway.
She caught me looking and smiled, but the sadness lingered at the edges, old and familiar, like a scar she’d stopped trying to hide.
“She fed me when my own mother forgot to,” Dex said, and there was something in his voice that made the words land heavier than they should have. “Been stuck with this family ever since.”
“Stuck,” Jasper scoffed. “You love us and you know it.”
“I tolerate you. There’s a difference.”
“He cried at my graduation,” Jasper told me conspiratorially. “Actual tears.”
“I had allergies.”
“In December.”
“Seasonal allergies are year-round for some people.”
I found myself laughing, really laughing, at their bickering. It reminded me of something I’d lost a long time ago, before Marcus, before everything got complicated. The easy warmth of people who knew each other so well they could argue without any real heat.
Callum caught my eye across the table. He didn’t say anything, he rarely did, but something in his expression softened when he saw me laughing. Like my happiness mattered to him. Like he’d been waiting for it.
I looked away quickly, my cheeks warm.
After dinner, I found myself on the porch with Dex while the others cleaned up inside. He'd produced a beer from somewhere and was drinking it with the air of a man who had nowhere else to be.
The night was warm, thick with the smell of magnolia and something else—the wild, green scent of the preserve. Lightning bugs flickered in the darkness, and somewhere in the distance, I could hear the low hum of insects. It should have been peaceful.
Instead, I felt like I was sitting next to a loaded weapon.
“You’re not what I expected,” Dex said after a long silence.
“What did you expect?”
“Someone softer. Someone who’d be overwhelmed by all this.” He gestured vaguely at the house, the property, the night. “Most people are, when they first encounter the Voss family.”
“I’ve dealt with overwhelming before.”
“I bet you have.” He took another drink, studying me over the bottle. “Jasper says you’ve got someone causing trouble. From before.”
I tensed. “Jasper talks too much.”
“Jasper talks exactly as much as he means to. Everything that boy does is deliberate, even when it looks accidental.” Dex shrugged. “He told me because he thought I should know. In case anyone comes around asking questions about a woman matching your description.”
“And will you? Tell them anything?”
“I don’t tell strangers shit about people under this roof.” He said it flatly, like it was obvious. “You’re here. That makes you ours to protect.”
Ours. There was that word again. The same word Jasper had used.
"They're not just rich eccentrics," I said. "Are they?"
He glanced at me sideways. "What makes you say that?"
"Everything. The way they move. The way people react to them.
The things that everyone talks around without actually saying.
" I met his gaze steadily. “The wrought iron fence with inscribed sigils around the preserve. The locked section of the cemetery. The way certain people in this town move like—.”
Something flickered in Dex’s expression. Surprise, maybe. Or respect.
"You're observant."
"So I've been told."
“Most people don’t see that much. Or they see it and convince themselves they didn’t.” He was quiet for a moment, considering. Then: "What do you know about pack dynamics?"
I didn’t know anything about pack dynamics.
But I’d noticed the way Rowena sometimes went quiet when conversation turned to family—not the Voss family here, but family in the abstract.
The old country. There was a weight behind her silences that I recognized.
The weight of someone who’d lost something they couldn’t get back.
“The Voss family and the Beaumonts have been circling each other for generations,” Dex said, leaning back. “Old grudges. The kind of bad blood that doesn’t wash out, no matter how many years go by.” He glanced toward the main house. “The boys don’t talk about it much. But trust me—it’s there.”
"Like... wolf packs?"
"Like any pack. Any group with a hierarchy, with roles, with a way of functioning together.
" He took a slow drink of his beer. "The triplets have always been different.
Callum leads. Jasper smooths. Eli strategizes.
They complement each other. Fill in each other's gaps.
" He paused. "They've never let anyone else in. Not really. They’re making an exception for you. "
"I've only been here a month, and wouldn’t say they’ve all let me in. I think Callum tolerates me." It felt wrong the minute I said it.
Dex laughed. "Like I said, you’ve only been here for a month and you've gotten further than anyone else has in years.
" He looked at me directly, and in his eyes I saw the same sharp assessment I’d seen when we first met, but something else too.
Something that might have been warning. "That scares some people.
The ones who've been trying to get close for longer. The ones who think they have a claim."
"A claim to what?"
"To them. To this." He gestured vaguely at the property, the preserve, the night. "The Thornwood legacy isn't just money, Serena. It's history, power, responsibility. And whoever they choose to bring in... that person becomes part of it too."
“Becomes a part of it how?”
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he finished his beer, set the bottle down with a careful precision that seemed at odds with his size.
“Has anyone told you about the founding families?” he asked.
“Eli mentioned something. The Thornwoods, the Voss line.”
“They go back centuries. To before this town existed, before Louisiana was even a state. They built this place. Protected it. Made sure it stayed… what it is.” He chose his words carefully, like he was walking a line he couldn’t cross.
“The Thornwood family has always been at the center of that. And they’ve always been… particular about who they let close.”
“Particular how?”
“The kind of particular where showing up to Sunday dinner means something.” He met my eyes. “The kind of particular where being invited into the main house isn’t hospitality. It’s an offer.”
My mouth went dry. “An offer of what?”
“That’s for them to say.” He stood, brushing off his jeans. “I’ve probably said too much already. Eli’ll have my head.”
“Wait—”
He paused at the porch steps, looking back at me. “But know this: whatever they tell you, however strange it sounds, it’s true. Every word. The Voss family doesn’t lie.”
I didn't know what to say to that.
"I'm just their tenant," I repeated, but the words sounded hollow even to me.
Dex smiled. It was not a comforting smile.
"Right," he said with a cheeky grin. "Just a tenant."
He disappeared into the darkness, moving with that same predatory grace I’d noticed before, and I was left alone on the porch with more questions than I’d started with.
Inside, I could hear laughter. Jasper’s voice, telling some story. Rowena’s warm response. The low rumble of Callum saying something that made everyone go quiet for a moment before the laughter resumed.
Family sounds. Pack sounds.
I sat there until the lightning bugs faded and the night went fully dark, thinking about claims, legacies, and the weight of being chosen by people who didn’t choose lightly.
When I finally went inside, all three brothers looked up at once. Three pairs of eyes, three different expressions: Callum’s intense, Jasper’s warm, Eli’s searching.
“Dex give you the talk?” Jasper asked, trying for lightness.
“Something like that.”
“Don’t let him scare you. He’s protective, but he means well.”
“I’m not scared.” I wasn’t sure if it was true, but I wanted it to be. “Just… curious.”
Eli’s eyes sharpened behind his glasses. “Curious about what?”
“Everything,” I said. “There seems to be a lot to learn here.”
The three of them exchanged a look, one of those silent communications that seemed to pass between them without words.
“Stick around,” Callum said. It was only two words, but it felt like a promise.
I nodded. “Okay.”
Because somewhere along the way, without meaning to, I’d already decided.
Whatever they were hiding, whatever secrets this family kept, I wanted to know. Not because I was suspicious anymore, though I was, but because I wanted to be part of it. Part of them.
And that terrified me more than any mystery ever could.
I was climbing the stairs to my apartment when Dex's voice stopped me.
"Serena."
I turned. He was standing at the edge of the yard, half-shadowed by the magnolia tree, his massive frame somehow managing to look both casual and tense.
"Forgot to mention something." He glanced toward the main house, then back at me. "There are other old families in this area. Some have been asking about you. Word travels in certain circles."
My blood went cold.
"Old family. Old money. Old grudges." His eyes caught the moonlight, and for just a second, they seemed to flash amber. "They keep tabs on everything the Voss family does. Someone like you generates a lot of interest."
"Someone like me?"
But he was already walking away, disappearing into the darkness with that same fluid grace the brothers shared.
I stood on the stairs for a long time after he left, staring at the place where he'd been standing.
Someone like you.
What did that mean? What did any of this mean?
The howling started while I was still standing there. Three voices rising from the preserve, weaving together in that coordinated song I was learning to recognize.
But tonight, there was a fourth voice. Distant. Different. Answering from somewhere beyond the property line.
And it didn't sound friendly.