Chapter 25 #2
“To the blind human and her suicidal wolf!” the rest of the pack echoes, laughing.
I groan. “Oh, God.”
Violet squeezes my hand again. “I like it.”
Of course she does.
I guide her to a seat on a log, then stand back to take it all in. Someone shoves a plate into my hands—meat, bread, roasted vegetables dripping with fat. My stomach growls so loudly half the circle hears it.
“Eat, stray,” Talon orders. “You can’t brood on an empty stomach.”
I want to argue, but the first bite almost makes me see stars. The adrenaline crash hits at the same time, and I realize I haven’t eaten in… a while.
Violet is handed a plate too, and one of the younger wolves immediately starts describing where everything is.
“Mashed potatoes at twelve o’clock, steak at three, grilled veggies from six to nine,” he says.
“Thank you,” she says warmly. “That’s perfect.”
Talon leans toward me. “We have rules about harming protected humans,” he says casually, like we’re discussing the weather. “Your woman is now under pack protection. Anyone touches her without consent…” His smile turns feral. “We remove something vital.”
“Like their spleen?” I ask dryly.
“Like their head,” Thorne corrects.
“Good to know.”
I look at Violet again, at the way she sits on a log near the fire with Meemaw, listening to stories, asking questions, laughing at the right moments.
She looks like she belongs here. Not because they’ve made room for her—because she carved her own.
I walk over. “Meemaw, the myth, the woman, the legend. It’s so good to finally meet you. ”
“You’re quite a catch, young man. Do I call you young man? Is that okay? Or should I call you wolf man?”
“Meemaw,” Violet hisses.
“Shush you. If he’s calling me a legend, I know you’ve told him stuff about me, so we’re practically family.”
Violet groans, and I tug her up and into my arms.
Hattie comes over, her blonde hair bobbing up and down as she practically skips over. “So, I’m aware that I’ve practically been sexually harassing you for the last little while. I’m pretty mortified over that, so if you want, you can stroke me…uh…I mean my…my hair.”
Violet snort laughs. “Good fix.”
“I don’t think I’m ever going to live this down.”
“Nope,” Violet says. “Never.”
“What do you say we don’t stroke each other ever?”
“Deal.” She holds out her hand and I shake it.
“Hey blondie. Get over here and have a drink with us.”
Hattie looks at me for confirmation that she’s not about to walk into the lion’s den.
“If they give you any trouble, I’ll set Violet on them.”
Violet goes to elbow me and misses. “Damn it.”
Hattie heads over and grabs a drink from a guy who looks like he’s the Hulk’s stunt double. Within moments, he’s shifted, and she’s rubbing his fur. I pull Violet into another hug. “Want some moonshine?”
“I can still smell it on your breath, so I’m going to pass.”
I cover my mouth and turn my face. “Sorry.”
“Ah, come here and kiss me, wolf man.”
“It’s the least I can do since you saved my life.”
“I’d say.”
Later, when the sun drops and the sky turns purple, the pack starts to howl in loose, overlapping waves. It’s not aggressive, more like a celebration, a sound that vibrates in my bones and makes my wolf push forward with a strange, aching joy.
Violet tilts her face up, smile soft. “They’re beautiful,” she whispers.
“You can tell?” I ask.
“I can feel it,” she says. “In my chest.”
I swallow hard.
“Jason?”
“Yeah?”
She turns toward me, and even though her eyes don’t focus, I feel pinned in place. “You know this isn’t just your pack now,” she says. “It’s mine too. If I want it.”
“Do you?” I ask.
She considers it, breathing in the smoke, the laughter, the howls.
“Maybe not right away,” she admits. “But… I wouldn’t mind visiting. Getting used to it. Learning the rules.” A small smile. “I like the part where we don’t get murdered.”
“Yeah, that’s a good rule.”
Her fingers search for mine. I give them willingly.
“You understand what you’re getting into?” I ask quietly. “My life isn’t… easy.”
“Neither is mine,” she counters. “But we’re both still here. That sounds like a good starting point.”
“I have enemies,” I remind her.
“So do I,” she says. “They’re called anti-anything-different, shitty infrastructure, and people who talk to me like I’m a toddler.”
That pulls a surprised laugh out of me.
She takes a breath. “I don’t want to be your weakness, Jason. I want to be your partner.”
“You’re not my weakness,” I say, serious now. “You’re the reason I stopped letting fear drive me.”
Her throat works. “Good. Then we can be scared together sometimes. And brave together all the other times. And talk about things instead of making decisions alone.” Her mouth softens. “No more martyrdom without a group vote.”
“That’s a very specific rule,” I say.
“It’s a very specific relationship,” she says back.
I huff out something between a laugh and a sigh. “Okay. No more solo self-sacrifice. Pack decisions only.”
“Good,” she says. “Because I can’t stop you from running into danger, but I can insist on holding your hand while you do it.”
My chest is suddenly too full. “I love you, Violet.” The words slide out before I can catch them.
Her breath catches.
I don’t take them back.
“I love you,” I repeat. “In ways that scare me. In every form I have. Human, wolf… whatever else I figure out how to be.”
A slow, luminous smile spreads over her face.
“I love you too,” she says.
The world stops.
The howls, the crackle of the fire, the clink of jars, the rough laughter of wolves, all of it blurs into a hum under those four words.
She loves me.
Me.
Not the dog.
Not the mask.
Not the pretend version.
Just… me.
We kiss again, slower this time. Not desperate. Not stolen. Just steady and sure, like a promise we’re both making with our whole bodies.
When we pull apart, Buff barrels in again, this time in wolf form, and flops down at our feet, tail thumping like a drum against the ground.
Thorne’s daughter, Fiona, also in wolf form now, sidles up next to him, bumping her shoulder against his. He leans into her without even pretending he’s not gone on her.
“Do they look as cute as they sound?” Violet asks.
“Terrifying,” I say. “I’m going to have to give Buff the ‘don’t piss off your alpha in-law’ speech.”
“Please record that,” she says. “I want it as my ringtone.”
Meemaw calls out then, voice carrying over the clearing. “Violet! Jason! Get over here. Talon’s about to lose a drinking contest to a seventy-two-year-old woman, and I want witnesses!”
Talon shouts, “I will not lose!”
Thorne mutters, “You will absolutely lose.”
Violet laughs, the sound like a bell. “This is going so much better than I expected.”
“Me too. I thought I’d be six feet under by now.”
“Well, there’s that, but everyone has taken it in their stride. We’re partying with shifters, and everyone’s having the best time.”
“Do you think Hattie will be able to keep this under wraps? And Meemaw? I’m sorry if I sound like a jerk. It’s just…”
Violet squeezes my hand. “I get it. But you can trust them. Plus, I told Hattie the pack would maul her if she opened her mouth.”
I chuckle. “That works.”
She lifts her hand in my direction. “Come on, Jason. Before Meemaw adds ‘alpha-slayer’ to her resume.”
I take her hand.
As we walk back toward the fire, the chaos, the food and noise and heat, I realize something quiet and earth-deep. I am not a stray anymore. I have a pack. A family. A co-alpha who can’t see the world but insists on reshaping it anyway.
And whatever comes next—enemies, old ghosts, new threats—I won’t face it alone.
We step into the ring of firelight together.
And this time, when the pack howls, I throw my head back and howl with them.