Chapter 28
ROWAN
It’s been over an hour since the council meeting ended, and the alphas were taken back to their packs.
Yet, I’m still reeling from the tension as I stare up at my ceiling, like I expect it to explain what just happened.
Not only from the intensity each of them brought to that room, but also because of how it ended.
There was a moment near the close of the meeting that no one spoke about. An unspoken agreement that passed between them as something ancient and deliberate moved through the room.
Approval. Acceptance. Purpose.
For a handful of seconds, their collective energy felt so tangible that it brushed against my skin.
No. Through me.
Their wants, their fears, and even their hopes threaded together until I could feel each one like it belonged to me. All I wanted in that moment was to protect it. To make sure nothing ever shattered them like before.
Just like that, I was an observer again, standing on the outside as handshakes were exchanged, alliances solidified, and wolves began to leave. The weight lifted, but the echo of it lingered.
You’re bonded to the most powerful alpha in all the packs, Wolf reminds me. There’s bound to be some residual effects.
The most powerful? I question. I don’t doubt Cade’s strength, and never will, but that feels like a bold claim even for her.
I’m guessing, she admits, but the fact that he walked away from a council seat out of spite speaks louder than brute force. There’s more than one reason his place was never filled.
Interesting and certainly noted.
A knock sounds at my door, pulling me from my thoughts, and Cade steps inside. His smile twists something warm and reckless in my chest.
“Iris has demanded a family dinner,” he says. “She’s not thrilled with how little she’s seen her granddaughter since you got back.”
That doesn’t surprise me in the least. And honestly, I’m relieved.
I’m starving for food, yes, but also for connection. For something that doesn’t involve councils, prophecies, or one sorcerer-like Ashmark with control issues.
Something tells me we won’t be staying in one place for long now that the council is settled. So, one night of normalcy before we start planning Malrik’s downfall feels necessary.
I sit up and reach a hand toward him. “Show me the way, handsome.”
The word comes out so naturally that I don’t think anything of it until Cade’s cheeks flush, making me believe that maybe nobody has ever called him that before.
That might be something I need to change because he deserves to know how incredible he is, inside and out.
Murder tendencies aside.
When Cade helps me to my feet, I end up pressed flush against his chest, the solid warmth of him mending in a way I didn’t realize I needed. NightShade seems to settle around us, as if it approves of the closeness.
“I don’t think I’ve thanked you yet,” he says, stroking the soft spot along my collarbone. “For being so calm and understanding in that meeting. I couldn’t have made that work without you.”
“Happy to be of service,” I promise him with a wide smile. “But let’s not talk about business for the rest of the evening. I actually like Iris’s plans for a family dinner.”
“That crazy old woman is growing on you, isn’t she?” He says with a faint frown. “She’s lucky.”
“Maybe one day you’ll learn to tolerate her,” I tease as we begin to walk toward the dining room.
He grunts. “A cold day in hell.”
The corridors of NightShade stretch ahead of us, candlelight blooming along the walls as we pass, one flame lighting the next like the manor is guiding us forward. The floor beneath my feet is warm, and I get the sense that the house knows this moment matters.
Liz falls into step beside us. “There you two are.” Her gaze flicks briefly to my neck before she grins. “I’ve heard rumors of a feast. Hope you’re hungry.”
“Famished,” Archie says cheerfully, slipping out of a shadowed alcove.
I stop short, blinking at the space he emerged from. Nestled beneath a wide window is a small bench and a tiny wooden door I’m positive wasn’t there before.
“Where did that come from?” I ask.
“The Keep isn’t the only magical house,” Archie reminds me. “NightShade just doesn’t show off as much as you described The Keep doing.”
Right. The Keep had certainly been eager to be my best friend by the end.
As he climbs up my leg to my shoulders, I ask, “Are you sure that’s enough space?”
“I’ll mostly be sleeping there,” he says, curling around my neck like a living scarf. “Don’t worry about me.”
Fat chance of that.
We continue on, and when we reach the dining room, the sight waiting for us makes me pause. Elias and Marius are already seated on opposite sides of the table, which is strange enough until I notice the handwritten name cards resting on each plate.
Oh. Iris has plans.
The room itself looks transformed. Fresh flowers spill from vases that hadn’t been there this morning, their scent soft and calming. Twinkle lights weave subtly through the beams overhead, glowing like captured starlight rather than anything electrical.
NightShade didn’t just prepare a meal.
It prepared a moment.
One I feel like I finally belong in.
Iris bustles in moments later, hands clasped in front of her like she’s personally orchestrated a royal banquet, which she practically has.
“Oh, good. Everyone’s here,” she declares, surveying the table with satisfaction at the head of the table. “Sit and eat. No one is allowed to discuss councils, kidnappings, or potential impending doom.”
Liz arches a brow. “That last one feels oddly specific.”
“I’m serious,” Iris says, pointing a finger at her. “Tonight is for family.”
The word settles over the table in a way that makes my chest ache a little.
I take my seat between Cade and Liz, Archie still draped around my shoulders like a living stole. Elias sits across from us, posture relaxed, eyes softer than I’ve seen them in days. Marius is a few seats down from me, quiet and watchful, but present in a way that I appreciate.
NightShade responds the moment we’re seated.
Dishes appear with a gentle shimmer—bowls of roasted vegetables, plates piled with perfectly cooked meat, bread so fresh it releases steam when Iris breaks it open.
Wine glasses fill themselves with something dark and rich for those who partake, and with bubbling apple cider for everyone else, based on the sweet scent.
Archie peers down at the spread, chirring approvingly.
“I’m starting to think you might just belong here, Rowan Prescott,” Liz murmurs to me.
She might be right, but I don’t say anything back. While NightShade has begun to feel like home, I heard Cade tonight.
We have a pack to heal, and that’s not going to be done simply by having fixed the council.
I tear off a small piece of meat and lift it toward Archie, who doesn’t bother to go to his seat near Marius. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you fed, King Archibald.”
He accepts the offering delicately, curling tighter around my neck as he chews. “Thank you, Princess RoRo.”
I snort at the memory of the nickname I gave myself when we used to have tea parties together. Ones where I did all the talking because I thought he was a normal animal. Now, I can’t imagine him any other way.
“Now, it’s Team RoCa,” Liz adds with a chuckle.
Cade glances at me with a confused look. “Do I want to know?”
“It’s your couple name,” Liz offers before I can. “You can thank me later.”
Something tells me that will never happen.
Still, Cade watches the interaction with a fondness he doesn’t seem to try hard to hide, his hand settling over my knee under the table.
For a while, conversation stays light as we begin to eat.
Liz tells us about a failed patrol rotation from earlier that somehow ended with Stephanie waist-deep in a creek and swearing vengeance on a squirrel.
Elias adds just enough commentary to make it clear Liz is omitting several key details.
Iris laughs so hard she has to dab at her eyes with a napkin.
Even Marius cracks a smile.
It feels surreal—this pocket of warmth and laughter after everything we’ve survived.
Except it’s hard to keep my thoughts from drifting.
And Cade notices even when I do my best to hide the intrusive thoughts.
“What’s wrong?” he asks quietly, but with insistence.
I wave him off. “Tonight’s not the night. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
He stares harder, clearly not going to let this go, and now we’ve attracted the attention of the whole table.
“There was someone there,” I finally say. “At Malrik’s castle.”
The table stills—not abruptly, but attentively.
“A woman,” I continue. “She wasn’t working for him, I don’t think.
I’m not even sure she understood what she was tangled up in, but…
” I shake my head. “Sitting here with you all, being grateful for my family, I can’t stop thinking about how I left her behind when I escaped.
About how many others might also be trapped there? ”
Cade’s hand tightens reassuringly over my knee. “We’ll make sure they’re safe.”
No hesitation. No qualifiers.
Liz nods. “People like Malrik don’t care who gets crushed underfoot. Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t.”
Elias inclines his head. “If there’s a way to extract them, we’ll find it.”
“Right before we burn that place to the ground,” Cade replies with a growl.
Iris’s expression turns solemn, but she keeps her thoughts to herself.
Relief loosens something inside me. Not because there’s a plan yet, but because I’m not alone in the wanting or the caring.
“We’ll make all of this right,” Cade murmurs, meeting my gaze.
I nod. “I know.”
NightShade’s lights glow a little warmer, as if approving of the sentiment. Outside, I know the pack is moving through the grounds, unseen but vigilant, giving us this moment of peace.
For the first time since I came back, the future doesn’t feel like a weapon aimed at my chest.
It feels like something we might actually survive.
At least for a few heartbeats—right up until Cade goes rigid beside me.