13. Basir
Basir
The meeting had gone on for nearly four hours by the time I pulled Gracie away from the table. I was surprised she’d chosen to return after she told her story, but when I followed out and offered to go with her back to our quarters, she’d insisted on going back.
I don’t think she realized just how far the truth she’d shared had gone to bolster morale. She hadn’t noticed the reactions as she spoke, the awe and surprise. Even the leaders, who objectively did their best to control their reactions, had talked about it after she left.
It was one thing to lead an army into war. It was another to lead an effort the gods themselves had deemed worthy.
Right now, though, I needed a break from the meeting. More specifically, I needed something I could actually put my hands on—a task, not a conversation.
“Where are we going?” Gracie asked, her hand warm against mine as we rounded toward a group of mostly rebellion forces, including Bram and Edie.
“I want to check on those supplies,” I explained.
“Gracie. Basir.” Edie turned to greet us. “Are we re-gathering?”
“Not yet.” Gracie shook her head.
“You said you had knowledge of Cinder Ring weapon caches?” I asked. “I’d like to see them myself. Just to gauge what we are working with.”
“Yes, we know of at least four compounds throughout the city. Maybe more we haven’t found yet—hopefully we can get that information out of the Cinder Ring bastards.
“Bram can show you to the largest one if you’re interested. That one also has medical supplies.”
That worked.
“Come on, you two,” Bram said, having seen me nod.
After telling Ravik and Thornar where we were going, Gracie and I left the capitol building, Bram leading the way in silence. I wondered if he found this—the rebellion, the decaying mess of my once home—more interesting than sitting in his kingdom down south.
Or maybe it had to do with Edie being his mate.
Mate. That I had one, and that she was perfect, still didn’t seem possible.
That she was holding my hand walking through the same streets that made me who I was—and not necessarily for the better—felt like something I hadn’t earned. My gaze cut to her, her golden gaze curious as she took in the parts of this city that had nothing to do with rot or ruin.
There was a lightness to her now that hadn’t been there when we first met. Hope, maybe? Something I needed to learn from her.
Gracie’s fingers tightened around mine as we walked, the small pressure grounding me in a way she probably didn’t even realize.
Glow always seemed to know when my mind drifted, especially while dealing with my past, and it wasn’t just from our bond.
She’d always seen past my walls—sometimes more than I’d wanted.
The compound sat two streets back from a market to our south.
I remembered the market—I’d done several drops there—but the rest of the area was unrecognizable.
Block by block we sank further into decay, and I could smell the sickly sweet scent of shockdust, like it was being pumped straight into the air.
Even with Cinder Ring gone, it would be everywhere in this city—in the compounds, probably in half the walls.
We’d need a way to get rid of it, fast and clean.
But that was a problem for later. I pulled Gracie closer, glad Bram wasn’t pushing for conversation.
The Cinder Ring had left its mark since I’d left. Buildings were boarded up, doors reinforced, their symbol everywhere. Occasionally we passed a house I thought I recognized—a small shack with mold and moss climbing up the side, the ground still damp from the rainy season.
“This way,” Bram said, heading to a house that a handful of rebellion soldiers were guarding. Its doors had been blown wide open.
A part of my subconscious surged forward, making me feel like I was ten again, counting down the hours until my jobs were done for the day. Gracie tightened her hand in mine once more, and as we stepped into the house, it reminded me of the warehouse we’d confronted Sable in yesterday.
“From what we’ve inventoried so far we have close to four hundred rifles, maybe a hundred and fifty sidearms,” Bram said, consulting a list one of the soldiers handed to him.
“In the smaller rooms there is medical equipment and food supplies. I hope you understand the latter will go to the citizens and rebellion forces.”
“Of course,” Gracie said. We had more than enough food with us, and some of these people probably hadn’t seen a good meal in a year. Maybe more.
“Let’s take a look,” I suggested to Gracie, needing some space. Being in this place, I couldn’t stop thinking about Sable. I didn’t want anything to do with the bastard, but the longer I was here, the more he felt like the only connection left to cut from my old life.
My parents—dead.
My debt—cleared.
Sable—still alive.
Of course there were other members of the Cinder Ring still alive who’d recognize me, but Sable was one of the few who knew me by name.
I’d spent years being one of his disposable pieces, one of the nameless kids who ran product with their mouths shut and their eyes down.
Just like the other children of the addicts he fueled, I was treated like inventory.
I wanted him gone. It was that simple. I wanted that last part of my past extinguished, and once he was no longer useful to the rebellion, I’d make sure of it.
“What are you thinking about?” Gracie asked softly.
“Sable,” I admitted as we walked down the long rows of weapons. “How he’s one of the only pieces of my old life left. How I want him gone.” How I wanted five minutes alone in a room with him to regain some sense of balance in my life.
I kept my face even as I turned toward the next row of crates, aware of Gracie watching me.
“Would that make you feel better?”
Her question was honest, and I felt no judgment through our bond. I paused and looked down at her, considering how it would feel to know Sable was gone from this mortal plane, no longer able to hurt anyone. I let out a low rumble, my wolf snarling in agreement.
“Yes.”
“Then that’s what you need to do.”
It was a simple statement, but it carried weight.
Gracie, my sweet warm mate, was giving me permission to kill a man who’d haunted my past. It would be far from my first execution, but her active acceptance landed differently than I expected.
My throat tightened with emotion as I nodded, then tipped her chin up and kissed her lightly.
I didn’t trust myself to do more than that.
Thirty minutes later, we left the compound behind.
Bram and the rebellion soldiers stayed to finish some business—which was good, because in an impulsive move, I decided to take Gracie somewhere I hadn’t been in well over a decade.
Her fingers were still laced with mine, and while she could tell we weren’t heading back yet, she didn’t ask any questions.
Instead, she pointed out small details of the city I hadn’t noticed myself.
A worn sign that used to mark a handmade quilt shop.
A pair of children’s shoes hanging from a fourth-story window.
A bouquet of flowers left as a memorial on a set of stairs.
I was so distracted seeing the city through her eyes that I almost surprised myself when we reached our destination.
My family home.
It was smaller than I remembered. It sat on a street that had been farmland at one point, left as empty space until two decades ago when small shacks, not nearly as resilient as the stone buildings, had gone up. It was housing made for people they never expected to stay long.
“Is this…” Gracie’s question trailed off as we both examined the house.
The roof had caved in on one side, and most of the windows were gone, just dark gaps where glass used to be.
Someone had spray-painted a Cinder Ring mark across the front door years ago, the paint now faded to something closer to cream than yellow.
I stood at the edge of what used to be a yard and let myself look, really look, instead of glancing away.
My wolf went silent and still.
“Yes,” I confirmed. “This is where I grew up.”
Gracie didn’t say anything, didn’t ask if I was okay. She just stepped closer, her shoulder against my arm, and waited.
After a long moment, I walked up to the door.
It hung open on one hinge, and I stopped at the threshold instead of going in.
Some part of me was unwilling to cross it, even now.
I could still smell shockdust under the mold and rot, a scent that had probably permeated the wood years ago and would never fully leave.
The mattress my parents had dragged into the living room still sat there, just out of view. It was covered in fungus, along with all of the other furniture. Oddly enough, none of the plant life that had choked the outside of the property had made its way in yet. Maybe that was on purpose.
Maybe the place was too fucking toxic even for nature.
“You don’t have to talk about it,” Gracie said quietly, her hand finding mine again.
That was the thing about glow—she never made me feel like I owed her anything.
I pulled her in, wrapping my arms around her and pressing my face into her hair, breathing her in until the scent of shockdust faded and all I could smell was vanilla and cinnamon. She held on, not pushing, just letting me stand in the doorway of the place that crafted me into who I was today.
“Their death was better than what waited for them in here.” My voice was void of the emotion I felt. “If they hadn’t been killed, they would have rotted alive in here. And brought me along with them.”
It sounded cruel, but I believed it. If they hadn’t been killed, they would have died high and alone in these decaying walls. I would have found their corpses one day, still on that damn mattress.
I held Gracie a moment longer, then stepped back from the door. Away from the threshold, away from the ghosts that lived inside. Gracie’s hand found mine again as we turned back toward the street, and I let her lead this time.
I just wanted away from this damn place.
***
After taking our time walking back, we reached the capitol and found Ravik, Thornar, and many of the soldiers out on an open stretch of ground. What had been manicured gardens was now a makeshift training yard, growls echoing from shifters and guns firing off at training targets.
“You shifted! I love it,” Gracie said as Thornar approached us, his white fur soaked from rain that had just started to fall. He nudged her forward until she ran to Ravik, who looked like he’d only just shifted back himself.
“What’s going on?” I asked, curious why they’d come out to train.
“Figured we could use a break from politics,” he answered. “And work with our wolves a bit, especially if we’re going to be in the field soon.”
It was a fair point.
“How did the weapon supply look?” he asked.
“Good,” I admitted. “Over four hundred rifles in that location alone.”
“You show her around the city a bit?” he asked, smiling as Gracie shifted in a glow of gold and began to run back and forth with Thornar. The joy and excitement radiating through our bond practically had my wolf rumbling in jealousy.
“Yeah, we stopped by my old house. It’s empty now, collapsing in on itself.”
Ravik nodded slowly, arms crossing. “I know it’s not easy being back here.”
“It’s not, but it’s necessary.” I ran a hand through my hair.
“I think it may help Gracie when we get back to Cold Moon Pack territory.”
My brows went up. Maybe he was right—maybe how I was handling this would help her deal with her own past when she had to face it directly on the battlefield. My mate was so damn strong on her own, but I’d love to think I had that kind of effect on her too.
I could only hope.
“Watch out.” Ravik’s laughter cut off as I grunted, falling back onto the ground with no resistance as Gracie tackled me. Her wolf barked happily, hitting my chest with her paw. I cracked a smile, unable to help it with her enthusiasm radiating between us.
I could feel her will through our bond, asking for the two of us to shift.
I shifted, feeling the familiar release of pressure in my chest as my wolf pushed forward, grateful for something physical to sink into after the weight of the last hour. Glow was already waiting when I settled onto four paws, tail low and swishing with barely contained energy.
Ravik and Thornar backed off to give us space, though I could feel both of them watching with amusement. Gracie’s wolf thought we were playing, but it was the perfect opportunity to train.
I moved low, deliberately, letting her track the shift of my weight before I slowly closed the distance between us, giving her every chance to read it coming.
She flinched for half a second, old instinct flaring—the kind trained into her by years of not being allowed to react.
But then something in her eased and she met me instead of retreating, her shoulder catching mine in a controlled, testing kind of impact.
Good. That was good.
We circled each other after that, not trying anything too extreme, just the measured attempt at rebuilding trust in her own wolf that Ivan had spent a decade trying to strip from her.
Every time Gracie hesitated, I gave her the space to find her footing again. Every time she got it right, I let her feel my pride and hear my wolf’s low rumble of approval.
She grew bolder as we went, her movements sharpening until she was the one closing distance on me instead of the other way around.
Her black wolf ducked under a feint I hadn’t fully committed to and came up against my side, a solid, deliberate hit that had my own wolf huffing out something close to a laugh.
There she was.
I let her push me back a step, then another, playing into it, letting her feel what it was to win. Her tail gave a single sharp wag before she caught herself, some old part of her still surprised that joy was allowed to exist, especially when it came to her wolf.
I nudged her shoulder with my nose. I was always proud of Gracie, but the past twenty-four hours had shown me just how strong our mate could be.
And now she was learning that about herself too, her wolf right there with her.