Chapter Thirty – Family Business
CHAPTER THIRTY
Family Business
I ’ m shaking as we walk back to the Bronco. Everything changed so fast, it’s hard to keep up. We were happy and hopeful minutes ago, like we had a real shot at winning this.
And now, out of nowhere, we find out we didn’t just blow our chances at trial; we put Jo on the target list of a criminal network that makes women disappear.
That freezes them alive and sells them to brothels.
Jo’s on the list of the same man powerful enough to take my mother and walk away untouched.
Our mate. The love of our lives.
I drive the familiar path home without thinking, forgetting Jo’s not there. She’s at the hospital. My brothers must be just as gone, because no one corrects me; I only realize it when I park in front of the house.
We stay in the car. No one moves. No one speaks. The buzz of my phone jolts all of us, ripping through the silence.
It’s Renner. I don’t want to answer. I already know what he’s going to say. But I swipe the screen and lift the phone to my ear. “Yeah.”
“Kory, it’s Thomas. Judge Loyle stepped down this morning. He filed a formal notice citing health concerns.”
I close my eyes.
“MAB already flagged that something is off, but we can’t trace it, and DOJ won’t move unless Loyle speaks on the record, which he won’t,” he continues.
“Your case was reassigned thirty minutes later to Judge Charles Gesson. He has a history of favoring prosecution narratives, especially ones that paint aegis as unstable.”
Renner goes silent, waiting for me to speak. I don’t.
Eventually, he adds: “I won’t lie to you; this changes everything.
We’ll challenge every move, contest every angle, but the room we had to work with just got a lot smaller.
” He sighs. “We still have a path. But it’s narrow and steep.
And we’re going to need everything to break our way. But I will fight for your pack, Kory.”
“Thank you,” I say, and hang up. There’s nothing else to say.
I stare out the windshield, everything in me hollow. Then I see it: a torn flap of white sticking out of our mailbox, creased and warped from being forced in. I open the Bronco’s door, cross the yard and pull it out.
It’s not just one piece; it’s five. Each one a photo of the same person — Jo .
One shows her leaving the house. Another, parking the F-150 at the hospital.
One inside, talking to a nurse at a distance.
Another just outside Fatimah’s, the restaurant she loves.
One from behind, crossing the sidewalk by the hospital’s entrance.
And another just outside our home, trash bags in her hands.
They’ve been tracking her for days, maybe longer. They’re showing us they can reach her. She’s not safe. Not even inside the hospital.
I bolt back to the Bronco and shove the stack into Shane’s lap as I start the engine.
He lets out a rough growl as he sees them. Jay leans forward from the back, shoulder pressing against Shane’s seat. He reaches over and pulls the photos from Shane’s hands, and I hear the sharp hiss of air between his teeth.
We’re at the hospital in half the time the drive usually takes. I barely throw the Bronco in park before I’m out, striding fast toward the main entrance, Jay and Shane right at my side, the same urgency etched across their faces.
We need her in our sight. Now.
At the reception desk, I flash my badge, voice low but sharp. “Dr. Johane Larsen. We need to speak to her immediately.”
The receptionist looks up, startled. “She’s on shift right now. Is this—?”
“We’re her mates,” I say, then quickly rephrase with something easier for the human understanding. “Her husbands.”
Jay steps up beside me. “This isn’t a request. Call her down. Now.”
The receptionist stares for a beat, then picks up the phone.
We wait less than five minutes, and then Jo is there.
As soon as we tell her she’s in danger, her face goes still. She doesn’t resist, doesn’t hesitate. “I need a minute to grab my things,” she says, serious and focused.
I nod and let her go, but we follow her all the way. We pass through doors marked Authorized Personnel Only, but no one tries to stop us.
She grabs her purse, her laptop, and follows us back out. It’s a good thing she sold the Corolla and kept the truck: none of us would’ve been able to drive the Corolla, and there’s no way we’d let her be alone right now.
Jay squeezes himself into the F-150. Shane and I take the Bronco with Jo.
She’s tense but composed as we tell her everything during the drive. She listens carefully, nods, then pulls out her phone and calls Dr. Lindstrom as we’re entering Milstone.
I know how bad this is for her career. It’s her third leave in less than six months. And the truth is, I don’t even know when or if she’ll be able to go back to work. If we get arrested after the trial, with Aranya still walking free... I don’t think I’ll ever let her go anywhere alone again.
The words come out before I think. “We need to talk to your family,” I say. “Make arrangements for the trial. If we go down, I want them to take you for a while, just until we get out. Your grandfathers, your uncles, they’ll protect you. ”
“I’ll call them,” she replies softly.
I thought she’d push back. Argue. But she just agrees. Pride and respect swells in my chest. It’s already an incredible thing to be a fiercely independent nyra. But to know when to step back, to walk away from everything you’ve built, that takes even more strength.
The guilt hits hard.
It’s my fault.
I’m the leader of this pack. My brothers and I do everything together, but the shots fall to me. If I’d made peace with letting Aranya walk, none of this would be happening. We’d have a real shot at winning the trial. Jo would still be on track to finish her residency.
I’m drowning in it when I feel a soft wave of calming pheromones from the back seat. I almost can’t believe it: in one of the most stressful moments of our lives, it’s not me steadying Shane. It’s him grounding me.
I take a deep breath, letting him carry me.
I glance at him in the rearview mirror. He meets my eyes and nods once. I nod back, a quiet thank you.
We don’t talk much for the rest of the day. I think we’re all still too stunned by how fast everything flipped upside down. We keep Jo close. Don’t let her out of our sight.
Alice and Jayme arrive by six in the afternoon. We didn’t know they were coming.
Shane answers the door, and when Alice steps inside, she goes straight to Jo and hugs her. “Jayme told me about the judge,” she says, voice so soft it surprises me. “I’m so sorry, Jo. Whatever happens, we’re on your side. All the way.”
We leave the two of them on the couch, talking in low voices, and head out to the backyard with Jayme.
Shane’s direct. “How much jail time are we talking about?”
Jayme runs a hand over his jaw, eyes heavy. “Worst case?” He glances between us. “Six months. County jail.”
Shane doesn’t flinch. “And best case?”
“Probation. Fines. Maybe house arrest. But…” He hesitates. “With the way things are going, it’s leaning toward the worst. Renner said the DoD wants a conviction to make you three the perfect headline.”
Six months.
It’s not serving time itself that scares me. What tears at me is the idea of being away from Jo, and of losing our jobs. We’ll have to leave Milstone for sure. No way we can afford to stay, especially in the historic district, on a private security wage or cage-fighting paychecks.
Actually, we’d have to move anyway. First, because those jobs aren’t easy to find. We’ll have to go wherever the work is. Second, and more importantly, because after this I want us gone. I want Jo completely off the radar of fucking Aranya and whoever the hell is backing him.
We’ll need somewhere cheap to live. Somewhere with a strong enough cage-fighting league to make money and give Jo a decent life.
“We’ll need some kind of arrangement for Jo’s heat,” Jay says to Jayme, blunt. “She’ll have two in that time.”
Jayme sighs. “I’ll look into that. See how the system handles it for mated packs who serve time.”
Jay nods.
“We’ll take care of her,” Jayme adds. “We’ll be here to support her if you’re away.”
I’m grateful, but it doesn’t matter. “I appreciate it, Jayme,” I say. “But we’re sending her to her family in Idaho.”
I wish I could keep my voice neutral, but the words come out harsh.
Jayme frowns. “What?”
“We have to,” Shane says, flat.
Jayme straightens, his tone shifting. “Look, I get that you’re angry, and you have every right. But Jo’s not a kid. You don’t get to send her anywhere. Her life isn’t over. She has her career, her friends, Alice—”
Jay cuts in, sharper than usual. “Exactly. And it’s because we don’t want to risk her life being over that she can’t stay. She’s going. That’s not up for debate.”
Jayme stares at us like we’ve lost our minds. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Shane and Jay tell him about the Eneas pack’s warning, the photos at the mailbox, the threat nobody else knows about. I don’t say a word. I can’t bring myself to speak another syllable about it.
By the time they finish, Jayme’s face is red. “I can’t believe it,” he mutters. “I just—can’t.”
Yeah, man. Our life turned to shit. You’d better believe it.
When we go back inside, Jo and Alice are crying on the couch. So Jo told her about the threats, too.
My chest starts to hum, Shane’s and Jay’s quickly following.
We’re used to it by now; it happens without control whenever Jo cries, but it’s the first time it happens in front of Jayme, and I see the puzzled way he looks at us, like he’s trying to figure out what the hell we’re doing. But he doesn’t ask, and we don’t explain.
Right before nine, they’re gone.
We cook together. Not the T1P diet, just regular food again. There’s no reason to keep training rules now.