“What's that?”
“Light,” Dad said simply.
Nate had saved me from the silence, had given me reasons to speak and laugh and hope for futures that stretched beyond mere survival.
Just like Mom would have wanted.
“We're going to stop them,” I said, and for the first time in weeks, the promise felt like something I could actually keep. “Whoever killed Mom, whoever's pulling Calder's strings, whoever thinks they can use our grief as a weapon against us. We're going to end this.”
Dad nodded, Alpha authority settling around his shoulders like familiar armor. “Together?”
“Together.”
The wind picked up again, carrying that familiar scent of lavender and cookies and love that transcended death. It felt like approval, like blessing, like the woman who'd given us both life and purpose offering her strength for the battles yet to come.
The waterfall kept falling, eternal and indifferent to human pain. But somehow, sitting there beside the man who'd raised me with gentle strength and careful love, I felt less like I was drowning in grief and more like I was learning to swim through it toward something that might eventually resemble peace.
Mom was gone. That would never stop hurting.
But we were still here, still fighting, still choosing to love fiercely despite the cost. And maybe that was enough. Maybe that was everything.
35
MIDNIGHT DUEL
EVAN
Motor oil and morning light filtered through the garage windows in equal measure, turning Gideon's workshop into something that felt almost peaceful. Two days since the ambush in the forest, two days of pretending that Calder's demonstration of savagery hadn't rattled me to my bones.
I bent over the truck's engine, focusing on the familiar rhythm of wrench against bolt, the satisfying click of pieces falling into place. Manual work that required attention but not thought.
Cal and Mason were sprawled on the floor nearby, supposedly organizing spare parts but mostly just arguing about whether the Seahawks had any chance of making the playoffs this year. Their easy banter filled the garage with the kind of comfortable noise that made everything feel normal.
“Hand me that socket wrench,” Gideon said from where he was hunched over the carburetor, silver hair catching light inways that made him look older than his years. “The twelve millimeter, not the ten.”
I reached for the tool, muscles protesting the movement because apparently getting thrown around by supernatural predators left you sore in places you didn't know existed. But the work felt good, normal, like maybe we could go back to being a pack that worried about engine troubles instead of existential threats.
That's when my phone buzzed.
Unknown number, which should have been my first warning. But curiosity won out over caution, the way it always did when you thought you were safe.
“I need some air,” I said quickly, stepping toward the garage door. “Be right back.”
“Everything okay?” Cal asked, looking up from a pile of bolts.
“Yeah, just need to take this call.”
I walked far enough away that their supernatural hearing wouldn't pick up both sides of the conversation, then answered.
“Hello?”
Silence stretched across the connection, long enough that I almost hung up. Then a voice I'd hoped never to hear again came through the speaker, low and amused and carrying the weight of threats wrapped in casual conversation.
“You and me, heir. Midnight. The clearing. Come alone.”
My blood turned to ice water, and I had to grip the phone tighter to keep from dropping it. Calder's voice, as clear as if he were standing right beside me, reaching through whatever supernatural means he'd used to get my number.
“How did you get this?” I managed, trying to keep my voice low while my wolf snarled warnings under my skin.
