Page 121 of Wolf's Reckoning
I looked down. There was a gash on my forearm, raw and ugly, and I hadn’t shifted to heal it yet.
“I’m fine,” I said.
“Uh-huh.” She stood, crossed the room, glared at the gash in my arm, and leaned back. “Shift.”
I quickly undressed, shifted, healed and shifted back, because she wouldn’t let me leave if I didn’t.
I got dressed again and noticed the bruises forming under her collarbone. The shadow in her eyes.
“You alright?”
Her jaw flexed. “I wasn’t the one covered in claw marks.”
“Adair.”
She looked up and there it was—that flicker of fear she kept buried under thoughtfulness and usefulness. “We lost three tonight,” she said. “One was seventeen. One was a father.”
“I know.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I thought we were safe. That with Wolfe…we were going to be okay.”
I didn’t answer because I’d thought the same damn thing.
“Do you trust him?” she asked suddenly.
“Wolfe?”
She nodded. I stared at the wall across from us. “I trust him to protect the pack.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“No,” I said, “it’s not.”
Adair dropped the towel, then sat beside me. “You used to be so sure of who he was.”
“I used to be a lot of things.”
Silence fell again, but it was heavier now. Shared. Tired.
“I’m not ready to let go,” I admitted. “Of this place. Of my father’s legacy. Of me in it.”
Adair didn’t argue. She just leaned her head against my shoulder. “I think you’re still in it,” she murmured. “You’ve just got company now.”
I didn’t cry. I wanted to. But instead, I reached for her hand, held it tight, and stayed there a little longer—because tomorrow, I might not get the chance.
And tonight? Tonight, I needed to remember those we had lost.
Chapter 29
Wolfe
The pack was already assembledwhen I stepped outside.
They knew I was coming. They always did now. The druid had checked that all the rites were met, just me and them under the Heartwood, and I was very much the alpha of this pack as much as Stonefang.
Rowen stood to the side, arms crossed, chin high. Watching. Calculating. That sharp mind of hers hadn’t dulled, and good—because it was about to be tested.
I stopped at the top of the steps leading to the communal clearing, the morning sun cutting sharp across the tree line. I let the silence hang. Let them wait for it.
