Chapter 15
Bishop
The sea had a way of reminding me how small I was.
Not in a diminishing way, but in the way that stripped pretense clean off a man.
Standing on deck with the wind tugging at my coat and the horizon stretching endlessly ahead, there was no room for titles or bloodlines or expectations.
Just water, sky, and the steady thrum of the engine carrying us toward something that would change all our lives forever.
I rested my forearms on the railing and watched the wake spread behind us.
My thoughts drifted back to my life in London, of the life I had been raised for, of the life that had been ripped away from me years ago.
My father had wanted me to follow him into public service.
He’d never really said it, but he’d always carried the quiet assumption that of course I would.
I’d been good at it too. The speeches. The committees.
The careful listening followed by carefully chosen words.
I’d believed, truly believed, that I could make things better from inside the machine.
Back then, I had believed in order, systems and laws that could be continuously refined toward perfection. I believed that if you pulled the right levers, wrote the right amendments, stood on the right platforms, you could bend the world a few degrees closer to justice.
What I hadn’t admitted… What I’d barely let myself think was that something had always felt a little bit off, maybe even a little bit wrong.
When I was ten, there had been a boy who lived three streets over.
His name was Daniel. He had dark hair, an easy smile, and a habit of climbing fences he had no business climbing.
We’d been inseparable for a year, just being boys and trading books, skipping stones across the river, and plotting imaginary adventures through the parks and alleys of a city that still pretended to be safe.
But… Daniel was a wolf.
He hadn’t meant for me to find out. He shifted once, by accident, behind a locked shed when we were both too young to understand what it meant. I’d been terrified for about five seconds.
Then I’d been fascinated.
He trusted me with that secret in a way I hadn’t understood at the time. Trusted me not to tell, and I didn’t. When his family disappeared though, I told myself I didn’t know why.
But I did.
I knew that London had found him.
I sighed.
The sea wind whipped through the air, cold and bracing.
I didn’t miss that life.
Not the galas. Not the speeches. Not the constant, careful trimming of my own thoughts to fit the room.
I was living more fully now than I ever had. I was fighting for something that didn’t require lies to justify itself. The Accord wasn’t perfect, but at least it was honest. Wolves and humans fighting side by side, working to bring the truth to the world.
And then there was Tamsin…
My mate.
Footsteps sounded softly behind me.
I didn’t turn right away. I didn’t need to. I knew it was her.
She came to stand beside me, close enough that our shoulders brushed when the boat rocked. She leaned her elbows on the railing the way I had, her gaze fixed on the same endless horizon. The quiet between us was comfortable.
After a moment, she shifted closer, her shoulder pressing into my arm.
“I’m really glad you’re here with me,” I said softly.
She turned her head to look at me, eyes reflecting starlight and warmth. “Me too.”
We stood like that for a while, the boat carrying us forward, the past and future held at bay by the present.
“There’s something I’ve never told anyone,” I said finally.
Her brow furrowed slightly, but she didn’t rush me. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”
“I know,” I replied. “But I do want to.”
The words came slowly at first, like I was testing whether they’d hold. I told her about Daniel. About the shed and him accidentally shifting in front of me. About the way his family had disappeared after that, and I had never seen him again.
“I think that’s when I first realized the laws didn’t match the reality,” I said. “I just didn’t have the courage to act on it yet.”
She listened without interruption, her hand slipping into mine, fingers warm and steady. When I finished, she didn’t offer platitudes or outrage.
She just nodded.
“That makes sense,” she said quietly.
“And then I met you,” I said.
A faint smile touched her lips. “Careful. You make me sound dangerous when you talk like that.”
I returned it, small and sincere. “You are.”
She leaned her head against my shoulder then, the weight of her easy and grounding. I rested my cheek on her hair, just enjoying the moment for what it was.
I didn’t know what waited for us off in the distance. I knew only that it wouldn’t be easy, and that some part of me would always grieve the life I might have had if I hadn’t become a wolf.
But I didn’t regret the life I was living now.
In fact, I wouldn’t change a thing.