Chapter 19 - Caleb
The croissants are offensively flaky. I mean, they explode down the front of my jacket the instant I break one open, dusting Alora’s baby carrier with a blizzard of crumbs before I even get a bite.
The woman behind the bakery counter tries to hide a smile, but she’s not really fooling anybody.
Dina’s already got the coffees in hand, and she’s not even trying to hide her amusement as we exit the bakery and I try to brush off the entire pastry now decorating my clothes.
Main Street is busy this morning, the air sharp with the kind of alertness that always follows an incident like yesterday. The town square’s full of patrols coming and going. We pass a group of betas who rush to check on Dina and Alora; the relief in town feels tangible.
Every window along the block is steamed with condensation or frosted up entirely, so the bakery’s neon sign is just a blue blur behind us as we walk.
It’s not a long walk to the pack hall, but it might as well be a thousand miles, given how much attention we’re pulling.
I can feel the stares, the way people glance up from their phones or their conversations and then politely look away, only to look back again like they can’t quite help themselves.
I’m hyper-aware that folk will just be glad to see Dina and Alora are out and about, and ok.
My phone was blowing up all night with well-wishes, and Dina said the same.
Not that we picked up any of the messages because we were far too lost in each other.
My mind drifts back to last night again and again, and I can’t keep the smile off my face.
Walking past a window, I almost do a double-take.
We look like a family, which is a mindfuck all its own, because up until a week ago, I’d have sworn that was the last thing we’d ever be.
Our hands never touch, not even by accident.
Dina keeps her whole body angled forward, as if she doesn’t know how to present our new reality to the world either.
Do we make an announcement? Is it even important to the pack, given everything that’s going on?
It is to me because even with that tension, I can’t stop noticing how good it feels to be seen with her, how much my wolf wants everyone to know she’s his, how proud I am that even after everything, maybe because of everything, she’s still here. And she’s mine.
We make it past the hardware store and the pharmacy without incident, but when we hit the corner by the bookshop, the universe decides to test us.
Ruby is outside, balancing on a battered step stool, cleaning the window with a squeegee and humming along to the pop station blasting from inside.
She sees us, stops mid-chorus, and gives a wave so enthusiastic she nearly topples the bucket at her feet.
“Heyyy, look at you three! This looks like a breakfast date?” she calls, voice slicing through the cold.
Dina tries to play it cool. “Just a tactical coffee deployment,” she says, lifting the tray like it’s a shield. “Someone’s gotta keep the security team from mutiny.”
Ruby grins. “Oh sure, that’s why your bond is all tangled up together and flashing like a neon sign.” She drops off the step stool and crosses the sidewalk, enveloping Dina in a hug and asking how they are.
I know Dina has already spoken to a lot of the women this morning as they all called one after the other.
I think she was quite surprised so many people wanted to check on her, but she shouldn’t be—it’s clear to anyone with eyes how well she’s settled here and how much everyone likes her; but I think she’s just realizing that for herself now.
We chat with Ruby for a minute, or rather, she chats, and we laugh, and then she shoos us onward, promising to come by later with some new distraction for Alora.
I have no doubt she means it. We leave her to the squeegee and step back into the flow of town, passing Dawson from the feed store, who gives Dina a solemn little salute, and then we’re at the steps of the pack hall, where the morning’s real business waits.
Inside, the warmth is immediate, as is the overwhelming smell of fresh coffee, which I suspect is currently fuelling the security team.
I feel a pang of guilt for missing my patrol this morning, but the guys all insisted I stay with Dina and Alora; I’m not sure I could have physically left them anyway.
The main room’s already half-full, and every face turns as we walk in.
Connor’s at the front, arms crossed, while Dylan and Bryan are comparing notes on a battered legal pad.
Even Nick is here, perched on the edge of the big conference table, his posture all casual authority, like he’s been up since before dawn and plans to keep it that way until the world is fixed. Which, knowing Nick, is probably true.
The room goes quiet as we enter. Not like the movies, where glass drops and everyone stares, but more like a subtle, collective recalibration.
A lot of the faces here were out last night, searching for Alora and Dina, and I feel the weight of that gratitude hit me like a truck.
Nobody says a word about it directly, but it’s there, the way people stand a little straighter, the way they make space for us at the table.
Dina doesn’t hesitate or hover by the coat rack; she moves like she grew up in rooms like these.
She unzips Alora from the carrier, hands her off to me, and slides, starting to examine the maps tracking the rogues with the confidence of someone who’s done this a hundred times.
I catch a flicker of pride at the back of my mind, something my wolf doubles down on, and I realize I’m grinning like an idiot as I bounce Alora on my knee.
Nick gives a small, approving nod, then opens the meeting with a brisk, “Let’s get started.
” He launches into the debrief, reviewing the abduction timeline, the response, and the perimeter weaknesses that allowed it to happen.
He doesn’t mince words, but there’s no blame in his tone, just focus.
He’s spent years rooting shame out of his pack, and you can feel it in the way the team absorbs facts without flinching.
Then he turns to Dina. “Walk us through anything I’ve missed from your report, and the wards,” he says, like he’s tossing her a ball he knows she’ll catch.
She does. She’s cool and detailed, describing the kidnapping and then the wards; the shimmer and knotwork, the way the air changed, and the way the wards collapsed when she disrupted the circuits.
She sketches a diagram on the pad in front of her, and as she does, it’s like every eye in the room is recalibrating its estimate of her.
Even Luna, who’s seen her at work before, leans in, nodding along as if Dina is the only one speaking her language.
I listen, proud and a bit awed. She doesn’t flinch or stumble over technical terms, and she’s so damn impressive in her delivery, I feel a rush of pride every time she delivers a perfect observation that has everyone nodding along.
As Dina wraps up her explanation, Nick raises a hand. “Hold on. I want you to see something. Cameras we recovered from one of the other cabins.” He taps a key on his laptop, then gestures at the wall-mounted monitor as the screen comes to life
For a second, it’s just motionless frames of the cabin’s exterior and a slice of dirty window.
Then Dina appears in the top left corner, a blur of movement as she muscles open the frame, Alora strapped to her chest. I know the story already, but nothing could have prepared me for how it looks from the outside.
Dina is calm, deliberate, and terrifyingly efficient.
She slides through, protecting Alora the whole time, barely making a sound.
She lands catlike, then, without hesitation, scans the perimeter before melting into the shadows behind the cabin.
Nick switches the camera angles, and there she is again, glancing up once at the lens before ducking out of view.
For a moment, I think the rogues must have seen her, but the timestamps say they were arguing on the porch, not watching the feeds.
She’s within a foot of the camera and doesn’t hesitate.
Then the feed jumps again. This time, she’s crouched by one of the ward posts, Alora cradled in the crook of an elbow, her free hand carefully unwinding the thread and breaking the circuit in two sharp moves.
The shimmer in the air distorts the whole screen for a second, then collapses.
The feed pixelates, then returns. She’s already gone.
Nick lets the video loop silently, then turns to the room. “I want you all to watch that again,” he says, voice low and even. “Because that is how we beat what’s left of the Cheslem rogues. Not with brute force, but with initiative, brains, and the kind of courage that doesn’t wait for permission.”
Everyone is watching Dina now, and she looks a little uncomfortable, like she’d rather crawl out of the room than accept the attention, but she holds her ground.
“I don’t know if you realize how important your training was here, and a little luck,” Nick goes on.
“You were two seconds away from being seen by the runner on the south side.” He points at a shadow in the far corner, a shape I hadn’t noticed before.
“But you never panicked. You read the field, you adapted, and you broke those wards. That’s the kind of thinking I want on my patrols. ”
He glances at me, as if trying to figure out what’s going on between us before offering what comes next. “Dina, I want you to join the security detail. Not just as a consultant or a temp, but as a full member. If you’re willing.”
I don’t even let the beat hang. “She’s in,” I say, and the room laughs, the sound genuine and grateful. “We’ll work out the logistics with Alora. Whatever it takes.”
Bryan leans over, grinning. “Your dad would’ve been proud, you know. Dina blinks fast, and for a second, she’s not the warrior on that screen but just a girl who lost her whole world and somehow found her place here.
“Thank you,” she manages, voice steady despite the emotion rolling off her. “I…I appreciate it.” Her eyes flick to me, and there’s a warmth there, something that passes between us because she knows I understand.
I slide my arm around her shoulders, easy and public, making no effort to hide the fact that I’m staking a claim. I feel the ripple through the room, a few glances exchanged, but nobody says a word. If anything, Connor just lifts his chin and smirks, as if he knew this was coming all along.
Nick runs through the rest of the agenda: the new patrol rotations, Luna’s plan to reinforce the magical barriers, and the plan for rounding up the remaining rogues.
When Nick finally adjourns, the mood is a strange cocktail of exhaustion and uplift; like a team that just survived overtime, battered but maybe more bonded than ever.
Most of the betas file out, but Dina gets waylaid by Luna, who chatters to her in low, excited tones.
I watch them, the way Luna puts a hand on Dina’s arm and holds her gaze, and I know she’s not just talking about wards or security.
She’s checking on her the way only a Luna can.
Dina manages a smile, then a real one, and for a second, she looks lighter than I’ve ever seen her.
As I’m bundling up Alora, tucking her limbs into her puffy snowsuit, Nick comes over. He’s approaching differently than usual, less alpha, more…dad, maybe. He tugs me aside, just for a second, his voice low so nobody else can hear.
“You good?” he asks, nodding toward Alora, then to where Dina stands with Luna and Ruby. “Really good?”
I know what he’s asking. I could give him a speech about my wolf and the bond and the future, but none of that’s what matters.
“I’m better than I’ve ever been,” I say.
My voice surprises me. It’s not a joke, not a defense; it’s just the truth.
“Thank you,” I add, because I know what he risked bringing me into Silvercreek, and I appreciate that more than ever today.
Nick’s mouth twitches. “You earned it,” he says. “She belongs here, and so do you. Soak it in.” He claps my shoulder, then heads back to the table, already brainstorming another round of contingencies with Thomas and Bryan. He’s not going to stop until those rogues are finished. None of us will.
When we finally head home, Dina tugs her coat tighter and walks at my side, our steps matching unconsciously.
The air is crisp and almost impossibly clear, the sky that blue that makes you think everything’s going to be ok—at least for a moment.
I want to memorize the walk; the way the town looks at this hour, the sound of Dina’s laugh as she tells me about the time her dad made her do perimeter in a blizzard as “character building.” I want to bottle this feeling of calm, keep it safe from whatever comes next.
Home is warm in a way that has nothing to do with the new heating system.
The old house has started to settle into itself, the kitchen smells warm and comforting now, the living room is littered with Alora’s toys, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I shed my jacket and watch Dina peel Alora’s layers off with the deftness of a woman who’s been doing it for years.
She sits on the couch, settles Alora into the crook of her arm, and pops a bottle into her mouth.
Alora latches on instantly, blissed out and greedy.
I stand back for a second, just watching them.
Dina’s head tips, her hair falling like a curtain around her face and the baby’s, and for a second, the world narrows to that.
Her, and Alora, and the way the late sunlight cuts through the window and softens the whole scene.
My wolf goes quiet, which is stranger than any of the chaos that’s ruled my life for months.
There’s no hunger, no fear, no edge. Just this yawning, gentle certainty that I have everything I’ll ever need or want right here.