Page 91 of Taken By The Wolves
Reed sleeps upstairs, his breathing steady but shallow. Cami gave him something for the pain, something that dragged him into a healing sleep. I checked on him. His pulse is strong. His color is better. But still, he came close.
My own wounds are bound and aching, but they are nothing serious. Battle scars will mar my skin and remind me of all that is worth fighting for.
Scarlet is upstairs with Ahya, coaxing her into bed after the day from hell. Our mate's voice is a soft hum above us as she sings something that must’ve come from her human childhood, and it makes my throat tighten every time I catch the melodic sweetness.
Goldie’s tucked away in the spare room with her cubs, murmuring soft reassurances, the kind only mothers can give. I don’t know how she has the strength left to stand, letalone parent, after everything we’ve been through. But maybe that’s what moms do; rise even when the world is breaking down around them.
I gather with Nixon, Hunter, Robert, and Evan around the cabin’s main table, the same one we used to stack lumber orders on, back when we thought starting a business together would be the most challenging thing we ever did.
We were so wrong.
Nixon starts with the roll call. Ten wolves from our father’s pack succumbed. Seven bears. Gregory’s forces? Mostly obliterated. His elite guard tore through our front lines, but they went down hard. The only ones left alive are three wolves, now in custody, tied up and guarded while the bears take turns to interrogate them.
Hunter leans forward, rubbing his temple. “They’re not trained. They’re scared. Fanatics with no clue what they were following. Gregory used fear and power to keep them loyal.”
Nixon’s jaw flexes. “And Bruno?”
“Gone,” Evan answers. “Slipped out during the final push. We were so focused on Gregory, we missed the bastard.”
Hunter adds, “He’ll be hunted. Mark my words. No rogue bear escapes a debt like that. He’s a disgrace to our kind.”
None of us speak for a long moment.
Hunter finally breaks the silence again. “I had my suspicions about Aura, but now Gregory’s wolves have spilled what I believe to be true.”
We all glance up.
“She’s descended from a spiritual bloodline. A vessel of magic. That’s how Gregory did it. He fused bear and wolfin her womb through ritual manipulation. Magic.”
The way he says the word magic makes it sound like a curse.
“How could he do that to his mate?” I ask.
“She was never his mate,” Robert says. “That was a cover.”
“She was used,” Hunter says. “And Ahya… she’s the result. A child made of pain and power.”
“She’s also loved,” Nixon says quietly. “She’s our daughter. Not his legacy.”
Softness replaces seriousness across the faces of all the assembled hardened fighters, shifters who are burly on the outside but gooey as marshmallow on the inside, it seems.
Talk turns to my father, and I tense with pain.
He gave everything. Every ounce of strength. Every second of breath.
The final charge to protect our family cost him everything.
Tomorrow, we’ll return to our family home. We’ll bury him beside Matt. Let our cousins, Chris and Macon, step into their role as alphas. The torch passed. The line continued.
My eyes sting, but I don’t let the tears fall. Not in front of the men. Not here.
Harry and three other wolves, Caleb, Marcus, and Theo, have chosen to stay to protect Ahya and find mates of their own in Blackwood Forest.
“We’ll make room,” Nixon says. “In the house. In the business.”
They nod gratefully. It makes me proud of what we’ve built. What we’re still building.
And relieved, too. The bigger our pack, the more chancewe have of keeping our mate and children safe from outside threats.
