Chapter 21
Caidrik climbed the side of the mansion and slid through Nadia’s window, pulling it shut behind him as the storm picked up again.
Snow rattled against the glass in short bursts, the sound sharp in the quiet room.
He brushed as much white from his shoulders and hair as he could and then turned toward her.
She sat propped against the headboard with a blanket over her legs, a fragrant mug of hot chocolate balanced on the nightstand beside her.
Several journals lay open across the quilt next to a legal pad with pages filled in.
The female seemed to be working hard. She looked up when he moved closer, her face still pale, dark shadows smudged beneath her eyes that hadn’t been there a few days ago.
“I wanted to check on you,” he murmured.
“I’m better.” Her voice was steady, but there was a hollow note underneath that made her seem even more fragile.
“I called to warn Emily and my father about the snipers, and they both think Merritt was lying, but their enforcers have been notified, anyway. Also, the tranquilizers are out of my system, so I can shift again if necessary.” Her gaze dropped to the bandage wrapped around her left wrist. “I healed the right one. I cut myself deeper on the left.”
He didn’t like how small she looked sitting there.
It wasn’t just physical. Something in her had drawn inward.
He kicked off his boots and sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “That they got to you. I had enforcers on you. There should’ve been more patrolling around your location. ”
She let out a short laugh that didn’t quite land. “Are you kidding? I should’ve been able to get out of there myself.”
“Luca couldn’t either, and he’s an Alpha,” Caidrik said reasonably. “Plus, you said you stabbed Merritt with his own knife. That’s impressive.”
“I guess.” She didn’t argue, but her shoulders curled in a fraction more, and that did something ugly to his chest.
Not giving her a warning, he pushed the journals aside, hooked an arm around her waist, and lifted her.
“Whoa,” she said, startled. “You’re cold.”
“I’ll warm you up.” He took her seat, settling until his shoulders hit the thick wooden headboard, and extended his legs.
Then he planted her fully on top of him, her thighs falling on either side of his hips.
She straddled him automatically, looking adorable dressed in warm flannel pajamas.
The lamp on the nightstand cast a soft amber glow over her face, catching in her eyes.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“We’re going to talk,” he said. “Right now.”
A faint blush crept into her cheeks, giving her color again, and relief hit him hard and fast.
“We’ve landed in a clusterfuck of a mess,” he went on. “One neither of us planned on.”
She huffed out a breath and then laughed for real this time. “That’s one way to put it.”
“Six months ago,” he said, watching her closely, “did you picture yourself in the middle of ancient trials attempting to take over one of the four main Stope Packs?”
Her eyes widened, reflecting the lamplight, bright despite the fatigue. “No. I didn’t even think I’d meet my father. Or my sister. Or end up being a part of the Slate Pack.”
“Me either,” he said. “I was tired of wandering, joined a farming pack that needed protection, and then ended up volunteering to keep your sweet ass safe as you ventured into this territory. Even so, I figured I’d protect you from afar and not get so involved with everyone here.”
“That was kind of you,” she said softly, lifting a hand to his jaw, her thumb brushing over the rough shadow there. The touch grounded him.
“I’m not kind,” he said. “Don’t mistake me for that.”
She smiled at him anyway, and stayed right where she was, her weight solid and warm in his lap.
He’d never lied to her, and he wasn’t about to start now. “I don’t have that in me,” he said quietly.
She studied him for a long moment, her gaze steady. “I think you’re wrong.”
“No, I’m not.” He didn’t play games. He didn’t hedge. He knew where he stood, even when it made things harder.
“Okay,” she said at last. “Then tell me how you see it.”
He took a breath. With Nadia, there was no point circling the truth.
Her mind was too sharp for that. Direct and clear was the only way through.
“I’ve watched the other Alpha challengers,” he said.
“Luca’s the only one left, and he didn’t protect you well enough yesterday.
That means the pack would be vulnerable if he took over, so I can’t let him. ”
Her eyebrows lifted, that small arch that made her look curious and intent all at once. It did something to him every time. He liked that about her more than he probably should.
“Bulwark’s out,” he went on. “Isaac’s body still hasn’t been found. And Dax…” His jaw tightened. “Who knew that tea could kill?”
She nodded slowly.
“Nobody can protect this pack the way I can,” he said. It wasn’t arrogance. It was fact. “I know the land. I know the people and the threats.”
“I agree,” she said without hesitation.
That mattered more than she probably realized.
He’d grown attached to this place in ways he hadn’t expected.
The miners. The routines. Even the ridiculous Mah Jong afternoons with Bussy and the elders that he’d made them keep secret.
“I get the slate mines,” he said. “I understand the work and even enjoy it.” He huffed a breath.
“But this pack can’t stay frozen in time. ”
Her spine straightened a fraction. He felt it where she sat on his lap, warm and solid and very real.
“This pack needs to move forward,” he said. “We need someone organized. Logical. Someone who actually cares about every single person here, not just tradition and dominance.” His gaze locked on hers. “That’s you.”
She laughed softly and shook her head. “No, that’s not me.”
“Yes, it is.”
“No,” she insisted. “I’m not built for that.”
Man, she really wasn’t getting him. “Baby, I’m archaic, and I know it.
The trials and challenges actually make sense to me, although I’ll keep my promise to change the laws.
But my instincts? I want to mate you, lock the gates, and keep everyone safe right here.
” His gut twisted. “The idea of sending our pack kids out into the world terrifies me. I want them here and safe.”
“That’s no way for a pack to survive,” she murmured.
“We can’t trap them here the way we’ve done for generations.
Other packs are modernizing. We need to keep up by using the right systems and technology.
We can grow our own sustainable food.” Her eyes sharpened.
“We need computers. Real ones. So we can plan and farm the land. The kids can learn how to do this out in the world and then come back to make the pack even stronger.”
The roiling in his chest quieted. “Exactly,” he said. “Name one person who could do that better than you.”
She tried to lean away, but he didn’t let her. He kept her right there, facing him, close enough that he could feel her breath shift as her thoughts clicked into place. “Well,” she said slowly, “I am organized.”
“And?”
“I plan,” she admitted. “I think ahead.”
“And you already thought about the land.”
Her eyes lit instantly. “I did.” She leaned forward again, animated now. “If you look at the four territories of the Stope Pack Coalition together, there are places where farming could connect them. Not everywhere. The mountains block some routes. But enough that it becomes shared. Cooperative.”
He watched her, intrigue and an odd pride wandering through him.
“It’d strengthen alliances,” she continued. “Encourage movement between packs. The members would know each other. Rely on each other.”
“We need that,” he said.
She fell quiet for a moment, still perched on his lap, still obviously thinking. “I agree,”
“So how do we make this happen?” He wasn’t used to asking how. He usually decided and acted. But sitting there with her on his lap, the weight of everything pressing on him, he knew he couldn’t just bulldoze forward this time.
She didn’t answer right away. She watched him, head tilted slightly, like she was cataloging the moment. That silence stretched for several beats.
Finally, he broke it. “I don’t want to do this alone.” It was the truth and he was done pretending otherwise. “I don’t want to carry the pack on my back without someone steady beside me.”
Her breathing evened out. He noticed everything about her right now. The way her fingers rested against his chest. The faint tension in her shoulders. The way she didn’t pull away.
“You’re asking me,” she said.
“Yes.” No hesitation. “I am.”
He tightened his hold when she exhaled, not even realizing he’d done it until she stilled again.
He wanted her close. Needed her close. Losing her to an enemy had stripped something raw in him, and the idea of doing any of this without her felt wrong in a way he couldn’t explain.
“This pack needs more than muscle,” he said.
“It needs structure. Planning. Someone who gives a damn about the people living in it. Someone who sees past the next threat.”
Her mouth curved slightly, and he wondered if she was about to argue.
“You can do that,” he said before she could. “You already are.”
She leaned back just enough to look at him fully, and he didn’t let her go any farther. He liked her right where she was. Solid. Real. Warm.
“I’m not built for that,” he added. “I enforce. I hold the line. I break what needs breaking.” His voice dropped. “You build.”
She didn’t deny it.
“I’m not asking you to fight,” he said. “Not because you can’t. Because you shouldn’t have to.” At the flicker of something in her eyes, he amended, “I don’t need the best fighter beside me. I need someone who’ll stop me when I get too rigid.”
Her lips twitched. “A Brillo pad’s softer than you.”