Chapter 41 Mona #3
Mona cycles through moods like seasons these days—mostly landing on irritation.
She hates being pregnant. She complains about everything, and she and Beep get into arguments constantly, which is a trip watching the woman you love argue with a voice in her head.
But that’s okay. We can all take it. That’s why there’s four of us.
By the time we departed on our planned journey, Mona had barely wrapped her head around the idea.
Grayson maneuvers the RV into the tiny dirt clearing, branches scraping the roof as he wedges us between the giant trees and Mamá’s overgrown garden.
I’m the first one out, boots hitting the familiar ground just as the cabin door creaks open.
Mamá usually waits inside for me to let myself in, so I’m surprised when she appears in the doorway.
She clutches her shawl, pulling it tighter across her shoulders, nerves and excitement radiating off her, eyes brighter than I’ve seen in years.
Her eyes crinkle with that familiar warmth, but when I move in for our usual quick embrace, she inhales sharply and freezes.
Her gaze fixes on Mona for a long, quiet moment before she turns to me with a knowing smile.
Before I can react, she brushes right past me and folds Mona into her arms, tears streaming down her cheeks.
She holds her for so long I worry I’ll need to track down Trin, Kendrick’s clan doctor.
“The Sages have returned, mijo,” she whispers.
“You knew we were coming,” I say, glancing meaningfully at Mona’s still-flat stomach. Mamá’s eyes twinkle.
“I did. And she’s carrying a Sage. A girl.
” Her eyes drift over my three pack mates as they emerge from the RV, their movements slow and wary under her penetrating gaze.
It’s understandable; witches unnerve them.
And my mother is ancient. “This child... she carries traces of each of you within her.”
I sense the tension ripple through my pack mates. Among shifters, multiple paternity is possible—a child can inherit traits from several partners if matings occur in quick succession—but it’s not a guarantee.
How my mother knows, at only six weeks, our child would be a girl, and a Sage at that, I’ve no idea. But I’ve learned not to question her.
She studies each of the men. “The power in this child...” She touches Mona’s cheek. “She carries threads from all of you, woven together. Such gifts require guidance.” Her eyes find mine. “The old ones taught us that when a Sage is born, a teacher appears. Mona already has her teacher.”
With those cryptic words hanging in the air, she gives Mona’s hands one final squeeze before retreating a step, creating space between herself and our pack.
The pack introduces themselves with careful nods—no handshakes.
Given the cabin’s tight quarters, we decide on dinner on the small table outside.
Grayson and Silas pull chairs from the RV.
While Mona and I help Mamá with the meal, the others make themselves useful around the property.
I watch through the window as Grayson kneels at the porch steps, hammer in hand, while Silas and Orion scale the roof to replace damaged tiles.
I don’t tell them that Mamá prefers the cabin’s weathered look.
Despite how heavily warded her property, she likes the place appearing somewhat derelict.
As if that might serve as some kind of deterrent against unwanted visitors.
Despite my mother barely acknowledging the guys, never meeting their eyes and speaking mostly to Mona and me, the days unfold with surprising ease.
I’d hoped bringing my pack here would reassure my mother about my family, this new path I’ve chosen, to help her feel better, but she remains impossible to read.
Every time I try to steer our conversations toward the future, she deftly changes the subject.
Mona visits with Kendrick and Lily regularly, and on our last night, they arrive for dinner.
Lily and Silas fall into a comfortable rhythm, their shared trauma forged something between them that allows them to tease each other like siblings.
Grayson and Kendrick talk business while Orion dotes on Mona.
I sit back with my mother, and we observe it all.
This life we both shied away from for so long—keeping ourselves apart from others, convinced solitude was safer than connection—it's a lot to take in.
The following morning, on our last day, as dawn barely breaks through the horizon, three sharp raps hit our RV door.
Through the window, I spot Mamá standing there, clutching her shawl.
despite the warmth already settling into the air.
When I open the door, she hesitates only a moment before nudging me backward, and climbing the metal steps.
Everyone is shocked she’s coming inside, and Mona quickly brushes a table clear of crumbs.
“I’ve packed my things,” she says, voice steady, eyes darting around the unfamiliar space. “This grandchild will need her abuela close. Her teacher,” she adds pointedly. “I’m coming with you to Silent Peak.”
For years, I’ve tried to convince her to leave this isolated cabin. In the end, it wasn’t me who convinced her. It was Mona. Or, more accurately, the tiny spark in Mona’s womb.
The RV falls into stunned silence. My mouth opens, but I’m too shocked to speak.
Then Mona’s face crumples, her eyes filling with tears before she launches herself at my mother, wrapping her in a fierce hug.
Later, she’ll blame that on the pregnancy hormones, but I see the way her fingers clutch at Mamá’s shawl, how she buries her face against the older woman’s neck like she’s finally found something she’s been searching for her whole life. A mother.
I’m still reeling when Mona releases her, and I pull my mate close for a moment, pressing my lips to her temple.
“Better let Kendrick know,” I say with an urgency under my skin, afraid my mother will reconsider.
I’m suddenly desperate to get on the road, and the pack senses my anxiety—one of those pack benefits I never knew I’d appreciate so much.
Grayson’s already typing a message to Kendrick while the others step outside with my mother to help her load up her things.
Hours slip by as we pack up her life. Mamá meticulously transplants seedlings and labels seed packets while Kendrick’s clan members—far more than I expected—arrive to say goodbye to the mountain’s reclusive witch.
Watching the steady stream of visitors, I realize maybe she wasn’t as isolated as I’d always believed.
“That everything?” Kendrick asks as he exits the empty cabin. I nod, anxiously watching my mate through the window of the RV as she chats animatedly to my mother.
Kendrick slaps my shoulder—he’s been doing that a lot lately, treating me more like a son-in-law than his trained assassin. I’m not sure how I feel about that yet.
It makes Mona happy, though. She and Orion keep harping on about how Kendrick supposedly exploited me.
I’ve tried explaining that without him, I’d have self-destructed years ago.
At least Mona’s warming up to him lately.
She’s comfortable enough to speak her mind around him—though with her lack of filter, that was inevitable anyway.
I’m nervous about this move, but excited.
I’m nearly seventy and I feel like my life is just beginning.
I follow Kendrick into the massive RV. Mona sits at the tiny table beside my mother, who clutches her shawl, shoulders trembling slightly from a non-existent breeze. She’s more anxious right now than she’s been all week. Mona’s figured out it’s best not to draw attention to her nerves.
“Tali, you know you’re always welcome back in our clan,” Kendrick tells my mother, keeping careful distance, as he’s used to with her.
Mamá smiles fondly at my Máni. “Kendrick. If I can ever repay you for what you did for me, for my son—”
Kendrick waves away her gratitude. “No need for that. No debts between family.” His shoulders tense as he shifts his weight, clearly uncomfortable with her thanks.
I remember how he welcomed us when no one else would—a suspicious witch and her half-breed son with more hubris than sense. The memory warms something in my chest.
I reach out and return his earlier gesture, clapping his shoulder. After all this time working together, in the end, we really are family. “Thank you, Kendrick. And you know how to reach me if you ever need anything.”
Kendrick nods. “Call once you’ve cleared the Midwest. I’ll see if I can’t find you some help before you sweep the East.”
The plan had been forming in my mind over the last couple of months.
I plan to contact all remaining covens myself.
Deidre might’ve been the most powerful witch, but she wasn’t the only power.
I knew from my sources when she’d begun her crusade, not every witch was on board with her plans.
We needed to gauge where the other covens stood, to see if bridges could be built between shifters and witches after generations of mistrust. With Deidre gone, along with Tracy and the Westward witches who’d murdered my father—the ones who would have gladly seen every shifter wiped from existence—perhaps real peace was finally possible.
I’ve decided to make it my mission to find out. It feels good to have a mission of my own—not pointed, like an arrow, as I’d always been in the past.
“Alright then. And Mona…” Kendrick turns to her, leaning against the wall with arms crossed. They’d already said their goodbyes, first when he left Silent Peak last month, and again before she boarded the RV. He clears his throat. “Take care of yourself, you hear?”
“Don’t worry so much, Kenny,” Mona replies, her lips curving into a mischievous smile. The nickname—one no sane person would dare call the Máni—is a private joke between them. Lily finds it hilarious.