Chapter Leo
Leo
He swans dramatically over Leo’s arm, barely missing dunking the back of his head into the water Leo is using to wash the dishes. Leo bends so he can press kisses to Nix’s cheek, blowing raspberries.
Rude.
Skye makes an almost soundless giggle behind his hand. The little guy has eaten four chicken fingers and his weight in french fries—plus four baby carrots and now, two homemade (not by Leo) chocolate chip cookies.
“Sorry, Nix. I ate them all,” Luca says with a wink at Leo.
“Le sigh. I shall have to be patient. They’re here, by the way—our reinforcements.”
He’d figured that’s what had Jay still on the front stoop. But also: fucking finally.
The last hour had shaved at least three years off Leo’s perfect life.
Everyone but Gideon and Jay had been outside. Leo and Nix had been throwing the Frisbee with Tsuki and Rowan-wolf when Nix had doubled over, growling like he was going to rip someone’s heart out.
Before Leo could process what was happening, he’d been halfway up the back wall of the compound with Rowan in hot pursuit. Shifting, he’d shouted for Leo to stay with the kids, barely managing to tackle Nix to the ground.
Their omega had come up swinging, determined to get to Grayson even if it meant running through the streets, all fanged-out, and eyes glowing blue. It had taken Jay, lying full-body on Nix’s back and biting the nape of his neck, to calm him down.
The following thirty minutes had been a chaotic mess.
Only Leo and Luca seemed to be able to form complete sentences until Nix promised he wouldn’t try to find Grayson on his own—but only if Gideon were to fetch him from the Guild immediately.
Someone was messing with their soulmate bond, and it felt like they were peeling their soul like a potato, a sliver at a time.
Jay had tried to negotiate around the demand.
He felt that he might be a better (read: calmer) choice to “break Grayson out,” and Leo had agreed wholeheartedly.
But Nix had been adamant—it had to be him or Gideon.
He wouldn’t say why, or couldn’t put into words the feeling of dread, but if Nix had a feeling, then they listened.
No one ever talks about Nix’s gifts, but they all remember seeing him in Florida on the platform—lit up in an almost blinding glow of the Goddess’s silvery white light. So if Nix said he had a feeling that this retrieval might need Gideon’s particular brand of skills, then…well…Gideon went.
Now, when the front door slams, the scent of petrichor reaches Leo before Gideon even turns the corner. Perhaps it’s that he’d had to break some heads at the Guild, or more than likely, he hadn’t had the pleasure.
Or it could be that he had heard about the ordered food. He’s made no secret (uncharacteristically transparent) that he wanted to impress their guests and return the care they’d received from Nimue and Ignatius in Clearwater.
He takes one look at Skye’s empty plate, the dirty baking sheet, and his scowl deepens. “Tell me those aren’t store-bought french fries.” He sniffs the air with a suspicious frown. “And store-bought chicken fingers?”
Finn smirks from the couch, one hand curved protectively around Rosie’s little body as she snores against his chest. “What’s the right answer here?” he asks, like he doesn’t know damn well he’s throwing Leo under the bus.
Before Leo can answer, or even glare properly, Rowan’s voice cuts through the kitchen.
“Nix, catch!”
A pair of leggings sails through the air as Rowan yanks a clean shirt over his head. Nix’s hand flashes up, snatching the pants before they can land in the sink or splatter onto a pan still crusted with breakfast.
“Thanks, Ro.”
Gideon audibly grits his teeth before carefully removing his “good” pink ruffled apron and hanging it with deliberate care in the pantry cupboard.
It’s the one he wears for guests, and it is the exact shade of his ears when they tell him he’s pretty.
Leo won’t admit to buying it for exactly that reason, for fear Gideon would never wear it again.
The sound of the pantry door clicking shut barely fades before Grayson steps out of the powder room. His dark hair is damp like he’s just splashed his face. His skin looks leeched of color, and the shadows beneath his eyes aren’t the kind that come from a single bad night.
The sight makes something low and uneasy coil in Leo’s stomach. “You okay, Gray?”
Grayson nods, a little too fast. “Yeah. I’m okay.
Just anxious to see what the others think about what’s going on with the kids.
” His voice has that forced tone that says he’s not okay at all, but he bends to slip Rosie gently from her bouncer, nuzzling under her ear.
He kisses the crown of Mari’s head, then turns to Skye with a fist raised for a bump. “Good dinner, little man?”
Skye nods, solemn as always, but points at Leo like he’s giving credit where it’s due.
Grayson’s eyes narrow with mock suspicion. “Leo made dinner? Are those fries from a bag? Ooooooooh. You’re in trouuuuuble.”
“Shut it,” Leo says, grinning. “Like you could do any better.”
“Probably not,” Grayson admits, eyes crinkling, “but I know better. I’d at least have bought—”
The front door beeps, loud and cheerful, slicing through the moment.
Like Von Trapp kids at roll call, the entire family scatters and scrambles, rushing to meet their guests before anyone catches the tail end of their kitchen bickering.
Leo lifts Skye to the floor, the little boy offering his hand like a tiny diplomat, and together they hustle toward the living room. They manage to gather in a jumbled knot, just in time for Jay to lead their visitors in.
“Welcome to our den. You remember my pack?” Jay’s voice is smooth, formal, with just a touch of genuine fondness.
“Thank you for welcoming us to your home, Alpha Rhodes,” Ignatius answers with practiced deference, dipping his head slightly.
To an outsider, the exchange might seem unnecessary.
Surely, there’d been introductions outside, pleasantries exchanged.
But this was different—this was for the pack.
This was the moment Jay made it official: the visitors were allowed inside the boundaries, inside their space, and the whole family needed to see that.
Just as important, it was a clear message to the visitors themselves—they were here by invitation, and only by it.
Not for the first time, Leo feels a flicker of pride that their Pack Alpha can navigate the complexities of American Were culture with such practiced ease—and still manage to win people over with nothing more than his natural charisma and that careful, quiet authority that settles rooms.
“You have a lovely home,” Nimue says, her gaze lifting to take in the timbered ceilings, then drifting out toward the sprawling yard framed by tall windows.
“Grayson has many talents,” Gideon replies with a nod, his voice warm but firm. “Thank you for coming.”
And just like that, the whole pack seems to exhale. Gideon’s blessing, as second-in-command, is more than good manners—it’s permission. The formal part is over. Now, they can all breathe easier, let down their shoulders, and maybe even smile without it being a diplomatic move.
“Nice to see you again,” Leo adds, doing his part so Grayson can quit his dancing from foot to foot.
Almost as soon as he says it, Grayson steps forward, offering his hand, “Master of Novices, thank you for coming. Luminary Nimue, this is our daughter—”
There’s a flash of light and a menacing growl before Rowan-wolf is butting between Grayson and the visiting Luminary.
“Rowan!” Nix whispers through clenched teeth.
Nix seems so very much a Were these days that it’s easy to forget he hasn’t spent his whole life as one.
But he still retains a lot of his human ideas and culture, so much so that he forgets that Rowan is a new father and warning off strangers is his primary instinct.
Given that he’s the Wolf 70% of his life and an enigma, too, it’s a recipe for mixed signals and loss of control.
Finn puts an arm around Nix’s shoulder, handing Rosie to their Alpha. They are going to have to do this the hard way when Rowan’s instincts to guard are so strong. It’s that or risk offending—or worse—their allies before they can do what they came to do.
“This is our daughter, Rosie,” Jay says. The words vibrate with the slightest tinge of Alpha Voice. While their visitors wouldn’t notice it at the low intensity, it sizzles along Leo’s spine like a low-grade electric shock.
Rowan and Nix flinch visibly too, Nix’s eyes flashing blue for a moment before he grits his jaw.
The warmth of Luca’s palm settles against Leo’s back as, at the same time, Skye squeezes his hand.
Together, they give him just enough courage not to drop to his knees and ask Jay to stop.
But he knows it’s important, as this moment is about showing Rowan that these people are welcome and that their pups are safe.
“And this is our daughter, Mari. And our son, Skye.”
At the sound of his name, Skye peeks out from beside Leo. The sweet scent of orange surprise tickles Leo’s nose, and he realizes this is the first time their Pack Alpha would have claimed the boy as his own.
Skye might not understand the intricacies of Were culture, but his instincts are telling him that Jay’s words are important.
He doesn’t come all the way out, but Leo knows their guests see him because Elysia gasps.
It’s pure surprise, her eyes wide and an elegant hand pressed over her mouth in apology.
It’s too late, though, because Rowan growls in warning.
This time, Ignatius goes to his haunches, which makes no sense to Leo, given Rowan-wolf is almost as tall as Ignatius when he’s standing. “Rowan, we mean your pack no harm.”
Not easily swayed, big furry body vibrating with warning, Rowan growls again, this time pulling his lips back and baring his teeth.
“Rowan Foster—” Gideon says in a warning tone.