"You should eat lunch." She finally pulled back, her expression shifting into something more practical, though her eyes were still soft with emotion, her hand coming up to smooth my hair back from my forehead. "Kol really is convinced you're wasting away. He's been stress-baking all morning."
"Stress-baking?" I couldn't help the small smile that tugged at my mouth, some of the tension finally draining from my shoulders, my hands loosening their grip on her waist.
"Muffins." She wrinkled her nose, but there was fondness underneath, her gray eyes sparkling with amusement. "So many muffins, Nolan. We're drowning in muffins."
I laughed — actually laughed, the sound surprising both of us — and pressed one more kiss to her forehead before helping her off my lap.
"Then I suppose I should go save us from the muffin apocalypse." I took her hand, threading my fingers through hers, feeling settled in a way I hadn't since she'd come home smelling like another Alpha, my thumb stroking across her knuckles. "But first — pack meeting tonight. We need to discuss security measures. Real ones."
Her expression sobered, but she nodded, her grip on my hand tightening, her jaw setting with determination.
"Okay." Her voice was steady, determined, her gray eyes meeting mine with quiet strength. "Together."
"Together." I agreed, and led her out of the clinic toward the main house, toward the pack, toward whatever came next.
The kitchen was chaos when we arrived.
Kol was indeed surrounded by muffins — blueberry, chocolate chip, banana nut, and something that looked suspiciously like it might contain bacon — his honey-blonde hair dusted with flour, his amber eyes bright with manic energy as he pulled yet another tray from the oven, his movements quick and slightly frantic.
"You came!" His voice was relieved, his whole body sagging slightly as he set down the tray, his gaze sweeping over both of us with barely concealed anxiety, his amber eyes searching our faces for any sign of distress. "I was starting to think you'd barricaded yourself in the clinic forever. Are you okay? You look tired. You should eat. I made muffins. Lots of muffins. Maybe too many muffins."
"I can see that." I surveyed the mountain of baked goods covering every available surface, my eyebrows climbing toward my hairline, a reluctant smile tugging at my mouth. "Kol, this could feed a small army."
"I stress-bake." He shrugged, but his cheeks flushed pink, his hands twisting in his flour-covered apron, his voice going slightly defensive. "It's better than stress-pacing or stress-growling or stress-wanting-to-hunt-down-Easton-and-rip-out-his-throat." The last part came out darker, his amber eyes flashing with something dangerous before he visibly pulled himself back, his expression smoothing into something lighter, his voice forcibly brightening. "Muffin?"
I accepted the muffin he thrust at me, taking a bite more to appease him than out of actual hunger. It was good — really good, warm and buttery with just the right amount of sweetness, the chocolate chips melting on my tongue.
"These are excellent." I told him honestly, watching some of the tension drain from his shoulders at the praise, his amber eyes going soft with relief.
"Reid's in the office." Kol's voice had gone quieter, more serious, his amber eyes meeting mine with unusual gravity, his hands stilling on the counter. "He's been on the phone with lawyers all morning. And Sawyer's been checking the perimeter fences for the third time today." He paused, his throat working as he swallowed, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "We're all... we're all a little on edge."
"I know." I set down the muffin and crossed to him, putting a hand on his shoulder, feeling the tension vibrating through his frame like a plucked wire. "That's why we're having a pack meeting tonight. We need to plan. Properly."
"Good." Some of the manic energy bled out of Kol's eyes, replaced by relief, his shoulders dropping slightly under my hand. "Good. Because I can't keep baking forever. Eventually we're going to run out of flour."
"That would be a tragedy." Aster's voice was warm with affection as she moved to Kol's side, rising on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek, her hand finding his and squeezing gently. Kol's whole face lit up, the anxiety fading into something softer, his arm wrapping around her waist to pull her close, his scent brightening from stressed to content in an instant.
"Yeah?" His voice was hopeful, almost shy, his amber eyes searching her face with desperate need for reassurance, his free hand coming up to brush flour from her shoulder.
"Yeah." She smiled at him, soft and genuine, and I watched some of the shadows lift from his expression, watched him lean into her like a plant toward sunlight, his whole body relaxing. That was what she did, I realized. What she'd been doing all along, without even trying. She made us better. Steadier. More ourselves and less afraid of the darkness inside us.
Easton Branston wanted to take that from us.
Over my dead body.
The pack meeting convened after dinner, all five of us gathered in the living room with the remnants of Kol's muffin mountain scattered around us. Reid sat in his usual armchair, his expression grave, papers spread on the coffee table in front of him, his dark eyes shadowed with exhaustion. Sawyer stood by the window, his pale eyes scanning the darkening landscape outside like he expected threats to materialize from the shadows, his massive frame coiled with tension. Kol was on the couch beside Aster, his hand in hers, his knee bouncing with restless energy. I sat on her other side, close enough that our shoulders brushed, grounding myself in her warmth.
"I spoke with the lawyers today." Reid's voice was tired but determined, his dark eyes moving around the room to meet each of our gazes in turn, his jaw tight with barely suppressed frustration. "The restraining order is... complicated. Easton hasn't technically done anything illegal. He approached Aster in a public place, introduced himself, made conversation." His jaw tightened, disgust flickering across his features, his hands clenching on the papers in his lap. "According to the law, that's not harassment."
"That's bullshit." Kol's voice was sharp, his amber eyes flashing with anger, his grip on Aster's hand tightening until his knuckles went white, his whole body tensing beside her.
"I agree." Reid's voice was calm, but I could see the fury simmering beneath the surface, the way his hands clenched on the arms of his chair until the leather creaked. "But that's the legal reality. We can document the encounter, start a paper trail, but unless he does something more overt?—"
"We wait for him to hurt her?" Sawyer's voice cut through the room like a blade, low and dangerous, his pale eyes still fixed on the window but his whole body coiled with tension, his reflection in the glass showing eyes that burned with barely leashed violence. "That's the plan? Wait until he crosses a line?"
"No." Reid's voice was steel, his dark eyes blazing with cold determination, his spine straightening in his chair. "The plan is to make sure he never gets the chance." He leaned forward, spreading the papers on the coffee table, his movements precise and controlled. "These are security assessments. Upgraded locks on all the buildings. Motion sensors on the perimeter. A rotation schedule so someone is always with Aster when she leaves the ranch."
"I don't want to be a prisoner." Aster's voice was quiet but firm, her gray eyes meeting Reid's with something like defiance, her chin lifting despite the tremble in her fingers. "I won't let him turn me into someone who's afraid to leave the house."
