No. It’s not right. Can’t be right.
I study him harder. That jawline… That’s mine. The way he sets his shoulders, stubborn as hell even half-dead. My build starting to show through the starvation.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Is he mine?
Did Brenna…?
Quit it, Rourke. Wrong time. Wrong place.
The question burns, but I swallow it. Not here. Not now. But the possibility sits there, coiled like a rattlesnake.
“I’ll take you home,” I say, voice rougher than road rash. “Get you back to your people. I’ll make sure they’re protected.”
Relief floods his face; first real emotion that isn’t pain. “The elders will… They won’t like it. Supporting Ravenclaw after everything; they’ll come at you hard.”
“Let them fucking try.” The alpha command bleeds into my voice, the kind that makes other wolves show throat. “Your mother was right about one thing. I keep my word. And I’m giving it now. You and yours are under my protection.”
“There was a war,” Cameron says, quiet but firm. “Ma told me. Your pack and Ravenclaw. Wolves died. Both sides spilled blood.” He’s watching me like he’s trying to read my soul. “Taking me back means walking into that.”
“I know exactly what it means.” And I do. Means facing the old bastards who made me choose. Means potentially fighting wolves I’ve known since I was a pup. Means risking everything I’ve built.
But Brenna deserved better. This kid deserves better. And if he’s mine—Christ, if there’s even a chance—then I owe them both more than I can ever pay back.
He’s still watching me, eyes sharp despite the damage they’ve done to him.
“You think you can travel, kid?”
He nods quickly. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Rest up,” I tell him. “We leave in a day. You’re riding with my pack.”
He nods, sinks back into the pillows, exhausted just from talking.
I get out of there before I say something stupid. Walk Aurora’s maze, trying to get my head straight.
Brenna’s been dead two years, and I never knew. Never felt it. What kind of mate doesn’t feel that?
One who rejects his own. That’s what kind.
And yet I might have a son. Seventeen years old. Tortured for six months by those Syndicate fucks. Carrying her magic and maybe my blood.
My pack’s waiting in the loading bay. They take one look at my face, and Rook’s eyes narrow.
“What happened?”
“Change of plans. We leave day after next. We’re taking one of the rescued kids south. He’s going home to Ravenclaw territory.”
Dead silence. They all know what that means. The war. The blood. The politics.
“Merric—” Rook starts.
“I know what I’m fucking doing,” I cut him off. “Yeah, there was a war. Yeah, wolves died. Yeah, the elders are gonna lose their collective shit, and every traditional pack from here to Mexico is gonna have opinions about it.” I look each of them in the eye. “But we’re doing this. That kid needs to get home. His people need protection. And I owe them.”
Sienna nods slow. Dane crosses his arms but keeps his mouth shut. Briar looks thoughtful. Rook just stares at me, reading between the lines like he always does.
“Day after tomorrow,” I continue. “We head south. Into Ravenclaw territory. Into whatever shitstorm is waiting.”
