I glanced at the feeds: Silas in his office, Silas at his desk, Silas in the kitchen berating the world’s most nervous prospect about the coffee. “He can’t hurt you from there,” I said, taking her hand. “And if he tries, I’ll make it ugly.”
She stared at our joined hands like they were a foreign object. “You don’t understand. If I let my guard down—”
“You’ll break,” I finished. “Yeah, I know the drill.”
I let her go and stood up, stretching my arms behind my head. “You need a break, Parker. Fresh air, or at least a window that isn’t a screen.”
She looked at me like I’d suggested skydiving without a parachute.
“Come on,” I said. “There’s something at the pack house you need to see.”
Her first reaction was suspicion. Her second was to grab Rocket from his donut-bed and tuck him under her arm like a talisman. I didn’t say anything about it. She wore armor where she could.
The drive out to the compound was silent except for the panting of the dog and the squeak of the truck’s shocks. Parker stared out the window the entire time, watching the landscape for threats that weren’t there. The sky was a featureless stretch of gray; the air so dry it left dust on your teeth.
As soon as we hit the pack road, I could smell the difference. The air here was full of life: wood smoke, baking bread, the clean metallic bite of wolf. This was home, even if I spent most of my time outside its walls anymore.
There were five cars in front of the clubhouse, all parked at awkward angles, as if the women who’d driven them couldn’t be bothered with lines or order. Inside, it was chaos—laughter, shouted insults, the slap of cards on a table. Kids ran up and down the hallway, cute little wolf cubs. It was a scene I’d grown up inside, but now I watched it from the threshold, just another shadow among a hundred moving parts.
Maddie and Juliet were there, along with three other pack women. When we walked in, Rocket barked once and made a beeline for the only other dog in the room—a beefy hound with paws bigger than Parker’s hands. The women barely glanced up, but I felt their attention skate across us like radar.
Parker hung back, all nerves. I watched her count the exits, map the room, read every face in a second. Everybody knew her, knew her story.
Juliet came over first, arms folded, mouth curled into a smirk. “Look who decided to crawl out from behind his monitors.” She looked me up and down, then glanced at Parker, her gaze softening. “Hey, Parker.”
Parker gave a typical practiced smile. “Hi, Juliet.”
Maddie waved from the kitchen. “There’s food. You look like you haven’t eaten in a week.” She called out over her shoulder, “Arsenal’s on his way back from Amarillo—he said to save him the big cinnamon roll. Hey girl! It’s been a damn month of Sundays since you’ve been around. It’s good to see you.” Bronc’s younger sister Maddie was all personality. You never knew what was going to come out of her mouth. Your best bet was just to buckle up and hang on.
“Hi Mads. Good to see you too.”
Juliet herded us toward the table, which was covered in craft supplies and a tangle of wrapping paper. “Toy run’s in a few days,” she explained. “We’re trying to get toys gathered. Pearl’s been wearing us out to get these toys wrapped like something she saw on TikTok.”
Parker scanned the table, the neat rows of books and puzzles and small plush animals. “Y’all still delivering the presents to the same places?”
Juliet shrugged. “Pretty much. Most go to the children’s hospital, some to the foster home, and the rest to the church out on County 9. They handle the rest of the disbursement to needy families. This is just a tiny fraction. Most of the toys, especially the bigger ones, are down in the basement. But I think we’re about out of room down there. We’re considering moving the operation to the Dairyville Civic Center so we can really spread out.”
Parker smiled. She twisted a piece of ribbon in her hands until it snapped.
I let the conversation drift, watching her from across the room. She tried to fold into the background, but Maddie kept pulling her back in, asking for help with scissors or tape, or asking her opinion on which toy was “least likely to traumatize a second grader.” It was clear, after ten minutes, that none of them had a clue about what Parker had been involved in, or what she’d endured. To them, she was just a pack member who’d been gone for a while. Another wolf, awkward about being back.
For the first time in days, her shoulders unclenched. She even laughed—a weird little cackle, but laughter all the same. Rocket, meanwhile, got into a wrestling match with the hound, and for once, lost.
Juliet brought me a coffee and leaned on the counter beside me. “She’s doing okay,” she said. “Better than I thought.”
I looked over at Parker. She was showing Maddie how to tie a ribbon without the knot coming undone. Her hands were steady; her face flushed with the heat from the stove.
“She’s tougher than she looks,” I said.
Juliet nodded. “So are you. You gonna tell her?”
I sipped the coffee. “Tell her what?”
“That you want to mark her. That you’re thinking about forever, not just right now.”
I shrugged. “I actually told her that the other day. Told her we needed to wait. She thought it was because I didn’t trust her.”
Juliet snorted. “You’re the scariest bastard in four counties, and she didn’t run. She’s not going anywhere. She understands. That’s pretty damn brave, if you ask me.”
