Chapter 29 Ethan
Ethan
Her laughter resonates through the house again, causing me to lose my thoughts for the third time this morning.
I frown at the dried anise leaves I’ve just ground into powder; too fine, nearly dust. Useless for the tincture I’d planned. With a sigh, I push the mortar aside and reach for fresh leaves, only to pause as another burst of her laughter drifts through the open door of my sanctuary.
My fingers hover over a jar of yarrow. I should catalog our inventory, prepare remedies, or check in on the tenants. Instead, I’m straining to catch fragments of their conversation like a lovesick pup.
“This is foolish,” I mutter.
I rub my eyes and force myself to refocus.
This isn’t like me.
I don’t get distracted.
Yet I find myself walking toward the kitchen instead of the greenhouse. To get coffee, I tell myself. Not because I can smell vanilla and cinnamon or hear Luna’s voice mixing with Oli’s excited chatter.
“No, you have to fold it in gently, not beat it to death!” Oli’s voice carries that special tone he only uses with her, part exasperation, part absolute adoration.
I pause at the doorway, taking in the scene. The kitchen looks like a flour bomb exploded. White powder dusts every surface, and Luna and Oli are covered. A smudge crosses Luna’s cheek, highlighting the curve of her smile.
“I’m folding! This is folding!” Luna protests, viciously attacking a bowl of what I assume is cookie dough.
“That’s not. You’re going to make them tough!” Oli reaches for the bowl, his dimples deep as he tries and fails to look stern.
“Maybe I like them tough,” Luna retorts, holding the bowl away from him. “Not everything needs to be soft, Oli.”
“Cookies do.” Oli finally wrestles the bowl from her, his movements careful despite their playfulness.
I clear my throat, and they both look up, guilty as cubs caught stealing treats.
“Ethan!” Luna’s face brightens, and that thing in my chest twists harder. She runs over and gives me a quick kiss, light and sweet. My wolf hums in response, restless and eager for more contact, but I hold still.
“Want to learn how to make the world’s toughest cookies?” she asks.
“I’m sure they’ll be edible,” I say, moving to the coffee pot. “Eventually.”
“They’ll be perfect,” Oli corrects, shooting me a look that says don’t you dare criticize her baking. “Luna’s a natural.”
That earns him a sprinkle of flour on his nose and a smile from Luna.
“Liar,” she says, but she’s pleased.
I pour my coffee, trying not to stare.
Six weeks. She’s been here for only six weeks, and the entire dynamic of our pack has shifted around her like she’s always belonged here.
“Don’t you have stuff to finish?” Oli asks me pointedly.
Luna rolls her eyes at both of us. “There’s enough dough for everyone.”
“I’ve got work,” I say, though leaving is the last thing I want to do. “Just needed coffee.”
I take my mug and retreat. The herbs waiting on my workstation seem even less important now.
Back at my station, I try to focus but watch the clock instead.
Thirty minutes later, I hear Luna’s footsteps heading toward the back of the house, where Axel usually works on bikes and cars.
My tinctures aren’t getting done anyway, so I follow at a distance.
The garage door is open, and I lean against the wall outside, just within earshot. Casual eavesdropping is a necessary skill. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
“Hand me that wrench.” Axel’s voice is gruff as always, but missing its usual edge.
“This one?”
“No, the—yeah, that one.”
Metal clinks against metal. I risk a glance inside. Axel lies half-under his old motorcycle. Luna sits cross-legged on the floor beside him, a spread of tools arranged neatly within reach. Her jeans ride up, revealing the scars that wind around her calves. She doesn’t try to hide them anymore.
“So what exactly did you do to break it this time?” she asks.
“Didn’t break it. Upgrading it.” A grunt. “Wrong bolt.”
Luna hands him another one without being asked. “You always say upgrading when you mean fixing.”
“Do not.”
“Do too. Like last week with the carburetor.”
“That was—” Axel slides out from under the bike to glare at her, but there’s no heat in it. “Fine. Maybe I pushed it too hard on that mountain run.”
She grins triumphantly. “Knew it.”
I’ve never seen anyone talk to Axel like that. He’s the wild card, the one everyone gives a wide berth. Even Hudson approaches him cautiously when he’s in one of his moods. But here he is, letting Luna tease him, the usual tension in his shoulders absent.
“You riding with me when it’s fixed?” Axel asks, disappearing back under the bike.
Luna hesitates. “I don’t know. It’s pretty fast.”
“I’ll go slow.” A pause. “For you.”
The way he says it makes me feel like I’m intruding on something intimate. I back away silently.
Back at my workstation, I try to focus again, but my thoughts drift. I’ve always taken pride in helping others, being the medic, the one who keeps this house alive so Hudson can concentrate on the bigger picture. But now I’m questioning his judgment, questioning all of it.
My phone buzzes.
A text from Hudson.
He wants to see me. Now.
Perfect timing.
The summons isn’t unusual, but my stomach knots as I head to his office. Patrol reports, maybe. Another attack at the southern border, possibly worse.
The door is ajar. I knock anyway, a habit formed from years of respecting hierarchies.
“Come in, Ethan.”
I push the door open to find Damien standing rigidly by the window.
Great. Just what I need.
His perpetual scowl deepens when he sees me.
The feeling is mutual.
Ever since Luna arrived, there’s been this tension between us. I assume it’s because he opposes Hudson’s plan, as I do, but sometimes I catch him looking at her with something that seems more like longing than hatred.
“You wanted to see me?” I keep my voice neutral.
Hudson sits at his desk, hands steepled. He looks tired. Running our operation and protecting the tenants isn’t easy, but lately, the stress lines around his eyes have deepened.
“Sit down, both of you.” It’s not a request.
I take the chair across from him. Damien remains standing, arms crossed over his chest.
Typical.
“I’ve decided for Luna,” Hudson starts, and my muscles tense automatically. “The original plan is off.”
I blink, not sure I heard correctly.
“What do you mean, ‘off’?” I ask carefully.
Hudson slides a package across the desk.
My stomach drops.
“This arrived today,” Hudson says, his voice unnaturally calm. “From Conrad.”
A dog collar. Pink leather with rhinestones, the name “Luna” embossed in glittering letters. Attached to it is a heavy metal chain leash.
“The entitled little prick,” Damien snarls, snatching up the collar. The chain rattles ominously. “I’ll rip his throat out.”
“There was a note,” Hudson continues, sliding a small card toward us.
I pick it up, my fingers stiff with growing rage as I read, “I’m coming for what’s mine. Have her ready. She’ll look perfect in this.”
I crush the card in my fist, my vision tinged with red. “That sick bastard.”
I’ve seen torn ligaments, broken spines, poison eating people from the inside, but I’ve never felt the same sickness in my gut as I do staring at that collar.
“He’s finally making his move,” Damien says, his voice tight with anger.
Hudson nods, his expression grim. “Still no news from the patrols at the borders. But both of you were right. The plan was always to apprehend him the moment he crossed into our territory,” Hudson says, pushing back from his desk.
“He wouldn’t get anywhere near the compound or Luna.
But this level of cockiness from Conrad—sending this right to our doorstep—suggests he either has a death wish or knows something we don’t. ”
I exchange a look with Damien, momentarily united in our concern.
“You think we have a mole?” I ask.
Hudson’s jaw tightens. “I don’t know. But I’m not taking chances. Conrad’s smart. We all grew up together; he was always calculating and patient, more than we give him credit for. He wouldn’t make a move this bold without having an advantage.”
“Or he’s just that arrogant,” I say.
“Maybe,” Hudson concedes. “But you two were right. We can’t risk the tenants. We’re moving Luna to the lake house tonight.”
“The safe house?” I ask. “That’s smart. It’s smaller—fewer access points. Better visibility. And we won’t be putting the tenants in harm’s way.”
Hudson nods. “No one outside the pack knows about it. We’ll bring only men we trust and keep the compound heavily guarded, just in case.”
Damien finally drops into a chair. “What are we telling her?”
“The truth,” I say firmly. “She deserves to know what’s happening.”
“No,” Hudson corrects. “We tell her we’re going to the lake house for the summer.”
“And the enemy won’t know where we are,” Hudson adds. “It’ll also give us time to devise a better strategy than using Luna as a pawn.”
“Using her as bait was never acceptable; she’s a person with her own wounds, not a piece to be sacrificed,” I grumble. “When do we leave?”
“Tomorrow.” Hudson turns to Damien. “Problem?”
“Several.” Damien sneers. “But you’re the Alpha leader.”
The title seems to hang between them.
Damien is the stronger of the two, but he never wanted the responsibilities of being a leader.
Hudson rises slowly, his power filling the room. “Yes. I am.”
I nod my agreement, ignoring the flash of something unreadable in Damien’s eyes.
“Let Oli, Axel, and Luna know we are going to the lake house,” Hudson continues.
Damien stands up from his seat. “If we’re done playing happy families, I have work to do.”
He strides toward the door.
“Damien.” Hudson’s voice stops him. “I know you have your reasons for keeping your distance from Luna. But she’s pack now. Deal with it.”
A muscle jumps in Damien’s jaw. “Is that an order, Alpha?”
“Does it need to be?”