Chapter 4 - Dina #2
“Because I’m not… I can’t work for you.” My hands curl into fists against the ceramic. “You’re Cheslem. Maybe you want to pretend that doesn’t mean anything here, but it does. You know what your old pack did to mine. Hell, you were there. You grew up in that, it shaped you.”
There’s a beat. The baby lets out a thin, reedy noise, and he rocks her without looking away from me. “Yeah,” he says. “I was. But I wasn’t the one who…”
“No,” I cut in, pulse thudding in my neck, “but you didn’t stop them, either. Nobody did. My father…” I clamp my mouth shut. I can’t finish the sentence, can’t say it out loud in front of him, in front of anyone. I don’t want to see the look of pity, or worse, a lack of care, on his face.
He shifts his weight and sets his coffee down.
“I’m not expecting you to forgive or forget anything,” he says.
“But I got out. I’m here. And you’re here.
” He gestures at the walls, at the unfinished beams, at the baby.
“We’re all trying to build something out of what’s left. Alora isn’t growing up in that.”
I stare at him, at the wolf barely leashed behind his eyes.
The part of me that’s my father’s daughter wants to spit at his feet, to walk out and never look back.
But the other part, the one that’s tired, the one that understands what it is to survive, remembers how he rescued me that day, how he didn’t hesitate. He wasn’t the enemy that day.
I stand up, thinking I’ll leave, but my legs betray me, locking at the knees.
“You think because you did one decent thing that we’re square?
” The words slip out before I can stop them, and even Alora goes quiet.
I should stop talking, but I can’t. “I haven’t even been able to bury my father… there’s no body.”
I haven’t admitted that to anyone else, and I’m not sure why it’s come tumbling out now, but we both pause, staring at each other. I see a crack in his facade, a flicker of pain behind his eyes, but it’s quickly gone, and his face returns to neutrality.
He leans forward, elbows on knees, and I know he’s about to say something that will sting.
“You’re right,” he says, “I didn’t stop them.
I was too scared, too young, selfish, or just plain stupid.
But I did get you out. I got as many out as I could.
That’s gotta count for something, even if it’s not enough. ”
I flinch because it does count, and I hate that it does. I want to hold onto the rage, the certainty, but he’s looking at me like he’s daring me to see him as something more than the sum of his worst decisions. I can’t. I won’t. But I don’t leave either, which means I’m already losing.
He straightens, voice lower, almost gentle. “If you think I’m the same as the rest, go ahead and walk out. But don’t pretend you know me.” His eyes flick down to Alora, who is starting to fuss again. “Don’t pretend you know her, either.”
His words make my teeth grind. I want to slam the door behind me, but my body won’t obey.
Instead, I stand there, hands shaking, until the baby starts to cry for real.
Not a cute whimper, but a full-throated, panicked wail.
Caleb is already moving to pick her up, but I get there first, too fast, too desperate to prove I’m not afraid.
I scoop her up, and she’s heavier than I expect, tiny body radiating heat and misery.
She quiets as soon as I hold her, glaring up at me with those huge wolf eyes, and I’m so startled I almost laugh. She’s like me. No, worse, she’s like him, stubborn and impossible and already demanding more than anyone can give.
He watches, mouth twitching, and for a second it looks like he might apologize, but instead he just says, “She likes you.” He says it like an accusation.
I rock her, awkward and out of practice, until she sags against my collarbone, her breath hot on my skin.
I can feel his gaze, and it makes me want to bolt, but the baby’s weight pins me in place.
Not to mention the fact that I need money and Luna sent me here, it’s hard to say no.
And then there’s the way he’s looking at me, with pity.
Something in his expression, a quiet assumption that I’m going to walk away, makes my spine stiffen.
Like he’s already decided I’m too fragile for the job.
I clear my throat, careful to keep my face neutral. “How much does it pay?”
He shrugs, like he expected me to ask. “Pack minimum. Plus meals. I can’t offer much more until I get back on full shifts, but I’ll make it work.” He looks away, like he’s embarrassed to have so little to bargain with.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. It’s not about the money. It never is, but at least if I take it, I can tell myself I’m using him as much as he’s using me. I watch the baby, watch the way she curls her fingers around the fabric of my jacket, and I know I’ve already lost this battle.
I put her back in the carrier, gently, more gently than I’ve ever handled anything. She sighs contentedly, eyes drifting closed, and I wonder if I’ll ever know that kind of peace.
“I’ll do it,” I say, even as my wolf howls in protest. She will never forget what Cheslem did to us.