“What happened to him?” I asked quietly when the twins got distracted by Cole showing them how to arm wrestle properly, his massive hands gentle as he adjusted their form.
Hunt’s cheerful mask slipped entirely. “Feral rogue attack. Seven years ago. It was supposed to be an easy patrol, just Blake, Noah, and Knox checking the borders. Knox had just taken over as Alpha, still learning the ropes.”
The room went quiet except for the twins’ giggles as Cole let them win their arm wrestling matches.
“There were more rogues hidden than our intel showed,” Hunt continued quietly. “Blake... he saved a family. Mom and two pups, visiting from another pack. Held off three ferals by himself while Knox got them to safety. By the time Knox got back...”
The silence said everything.
“Knox has never forgiven himself,” Hunt said, watching the twins play. “Thinks everyone close to him gets hurt because of him. Keeps detailed files on every threat within a hundred miles now. Trains constantly. And pushes people away before they can get close enough to be in danger.”
Cole spoke for the first time since sitting down. “Idiot thinks if he cares about someone, they’ll die.” He looked directly at me. “Like keeping you at a distance would somehow protect you from being his mate.”
Hunt elbowed him hard. “Subtle, Cole. Real subtle.”
“What? It’s true. He was terrified of her getting hurt like Blake did. So he hurt her himself instead. Moron logic.”
I processed this new information, pieces clicking into place. Knox losing someone precious, blaming himself, developing the belief that loving him was dangerous. It didn’t excuse what he’d done to me, didn’t erase the pain of being called a warm hole and abandoned. But it explained the self-hatred I’d seen in his eyes, the way he’d said he left to protect me.
“Uncle Hunt’s telling us stories!” Thea announced as the door opened, Knox and Noah entering with grocery bags.
Knox froze in the doorway, taking in the scene. Hunt on the floor with our children draped over him, Cole teaching them proper fighting stances, me curled in the armchair processing everything I’d just learned. His expression cycled through surprise, worry, and something softer that made my chest tight.
“Hunt, Cole,” he said carefully. “I didn’t expect you yet.”
“You said guard duty,” Hunt replied cheerfully, Thea now attempting to style his hair into pigtails. “We’re guarding. Also entertaining. I’m multi-talented.”
“I see that.” Knox’s eyes found mine, a question in them. I looked away, not ready to acknowledge how the stories had affected me.
Dinner became chaos with seven people crammed around Noah’s table. Hunt grabbed a pair of chopsticks and attempted to eat his spaghetti with them, twirling the noodles dramatically before they fell back onto his plate.
“It’s a sacred werewolf tradition!” he declared as Thea giggled uncontrollably. “Only the bravest attempt the chopstick spaghetti challenge!”
“You’re making that up,” Rowan said, but he was grinning as he watched Hunt’s theatrical failures.
Cole, meanwhile, had quietly taken over Thea’s plate when she struggled with her meatballs, cutting them into perfect bite-sized pieces without saying a word. When Rowan’s water glass emptied, Cole refilled it before anyone noticed. He moved with the same silent efficiency he probably used in battle, except now he was battling the chaos of a family dinner.
Knox kept stealing glances at me throughout the meal, something soft and vulnerable in his expression that made me want to both comfort him and shake him for being an idiot.
“Picture time!” Noah announced after the plates were cleared, producing photo albums that looked well-loved. “Time to embarrass everyone equally.”
The first photo showed five young men grinning at the camera, arms slung around each other’s shoulders. Blake and Noah were identical except for Blake’s slightly wider smile and the mischievous glint in his eyes that Noah lacked. Young Knox stood in the middle, all sharp angles and serious expression even while trying to smile.
“Look how skinny Knox was!” Hunt pointed out gleefully. “All elbows and attitude. He thought scowling made him look tough. We called him the Grim Reaper’s apprentice.”
“I was cultivating an image,” Knox protested, but his lips twitched.
“You were cultivating teenage angst,” Cole corrected. “You had a leather jacket you wore everywhere. In summer.”
“It was a phase,” Knox muttered while the twins giggled at the photos.
More pictures followed. The five of them at various ages, always together, always touching in some way. The casual affection between them was obvious, the bond of chosen brothers who’d faced the world together. And in every photo with Blake, I could see the shadow of future loss, knowing what was coming for these carefree young wolves.
After dinner, I took the twins upstairs for bed. Their protests about not being tired died instantly when Knox appeared in the doorway, looking uncertain.
“Can Knox read us a story?” Thea asked hopefully, already pulling out her favorite book of fairy tales.
My heart clenched at the naked longing in his eyes, the way he looked at me for permission. “If he wants to.”
