Page 89 of Curses and Casualties
“You’d do that?”
“Georgia, I’d do anything for you. Meeting your parents seems tame compared to facing down insane Elders.”
Jason laughs. “Oh man, you have no idea what you’re signing up for. Dad’s interrogation techniques make enhanced interrogation look friendly.”
“I survived an ancient wolf hell-bent on destroying our bond. I think I can handle your father.”
“Famous last words,” Jason and I say together, then dissolve into giggles.
Scarlett helps me take the dishes into the kitchen then leans against the counter with her can of seltzer—spiked with witches’ whiskey since it’s one of the only kinds of alcohol shifters can feel. She does it when she thinks I’m not looking, and she gets caught every time, and does it anyway. And I get it. She’s still dealing with a lot.
“I like your brother,” she says, her voice pitched low enough it almost gets lost in the hum of the fridge. “He seems pretty chill.”
“He is,” I say, sliding the dishes into the dishwasher. “It’s weird seeing him here though. Like two worlds colliding.”
Scarlett glances at her watch and straightens up suddenly. “Shit, I forgot about Ethan. We’re supposed to be checking the northern boundary today.”
“Everything OK up there?” Ryan asks, his Alpha instincts immediately kicking in.
“Just routine. Those new wolves from Seattle want territory assurances before they relocate. Everyone’s hoping that if they come here, they’ll find their soul-bound mate too.” She tosses back the rest of her drink in one gulp. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this. You entertain your brother.”
She grabs her jacket from the hook by the door. “Nice to see you again, Jason. Don’t believe anything Georgia tells you about me.”
“Too late,” I call after her. “I already told him about the karaoke incident!”
“You wouldn’t dare!” She points an accusing finger at me, but she’s laughing as she heads out the door.
I watch through the window as she jogs down the porch steps. She’s barely reached the tree line when a massive silver-gray wolf emerges from the shadows. Even from here, I can see Fenris’s ragged limp, the way he favors his right side—painful, permanent. Even with supernatural healing, there’s a limit. But there’s an air to the way he moves now, a pride, even in brokenness. He bows his head as Scarlett approaches, and for a moment she just stands in front of him, eyes searching his face, fingers hesitant at his jaw. Then she bends down, her hands framing his battered head, and presses her forehead to his. The moment is intensely private, so full of forgiveness and longing that I feel like I should look away. Instead, I commit it to memory, knowing it’s the kind of moment that saves a life, not just a day.
Jason sets his coffee down, watching through the window too. “Is that the wolf from the compound? The one you said almost died?”
“That’s Fenris,” I say softly. “Scarlett’s—it’s complicated, but they’re soul-bound, like Ryan and me.”
“He doesn’t shift back to human much,” Ryan adds. “It hurts him. The man side—Magnus—he resists the bond. Or did for a long time. But they’re trying to work it out.”
Jason whistles. “Heavy.”
“Pack is complicated,” I say, sitting beside him. “Family is complicated.”
“Worth it though?” Jason asks, and there’s genuine curiosity in his voice.
“Every complicated, messy, wonderful bit of it,” I confirm. “Come on, let me show you around properly. Can’t have you going back to Mom and Dad without the full tour.”
We spend the next hour walking through our territory, and I watch Jason’s mind cataloging everything. The training grounds where young wolves learn control. The community garden Ethan insisted on, with a, “Wolves need hobbies too.” The nearly complete nursery building, waiting for the next generation we all hope is coming.
“Three pregnant wolves now,” I tell him as we pass the medical center. “Since Ryan and I freed the magic, fertility’s returning. First successful pregnancies in decades.”
“So your legacy’s already secured,” Jason teases. “What’s next? Running for Alpha president?”
“Not likely. We’re kind of making up the structure as we go. But it’s really important to us that there’s no absolute power anymore. We lead as a pack.”
I point out Amara guiding young witches through containment spells, her voice carrying the authority that makes even me think twice about interrupting. At the edge of the yard, Ryan and Owen are deep in brotherly conversation, occasionally glancing at the training field with matching expressions of pride and exasperation.
This is what peace looks like for us. Wolves, witches, even the occasional vampire who stops by for questionable drinking games with visiting Úlfhéðnar. We’re a patchwork family stitched together by crisis, but still—family.
I’m lost in the rightness of it when Jason stops short at the hill’s crest. “Whoa. You didn’t mention the view.”
The valley spreads below us in impossible green beauty. The waterfall creates rainbow mist in the afternoon sun, cabins scattered like carefully placed stones, the air alive with birdsong and distant wolf calls.
