“I've got you.” Daniel's voice was rough against my ear. “I've got you, Michael. You're safe. You're safe.”
I believed him.
Here, in the Moon Clearing where I'd buried my wife and almost died twice, with moonlight pooling around us and Anna's permission still warm in my chest, I believed him.
And when I finally pulled back enough to look at him, when I saw my own fear and relief and something deeper reflected in his eyes, I let myself want.
Not yet. Not tonight, with blood on my arm and grief still raw. But soon.
The moon watched us from above, patient and ancient, and I could have sworn I felt it smile.
8
WHAT WE CARRY ALONE
DANIEL
The maps spread across my office desk looked like battle plans because that's what they were. Territory boundaries marked in red, patrol routes in blue, weak points along the perimeter highlighted in yellow. Evan stood across from me, Nate at his side, both of them studying the layout with the kind of focus that suggested they understood exactly what I was asking.
“I need you to take over patrol coordination,” I said, tapping the northern boundary. “Luke and Maren have been running it, but I need them freed up for reconnaissance. Which means you're stepping into tactical command.”
Evan's expression didn't change, but I felt the tension spike through our bond. Not fear. Calculation. Weighing responsibility against capability, the way I'd taught him.
“How many wolves?” he asked.
“Eight on rotation. Three-hour shifts, always in pairs. You'll coordinate with Luke on handoff, but after that it's yours.” I looked at him, held his gaze. “Questions?”
“Coverage gaps.” Evan pointed to the eastern section, where the forest pressed thickest. “If we're running pairs on three-hour rotations, we've got a sixteen-minute window here during shift change where coverage drops. That's exploitable.”
He was right. And the fact that he'd spotted it immediately while I'd been staring at these maps for two days made something complicated twist in my chest. Pride and fear tangled together.
“So fix it,” I said. “That's your job now. Find the gap, close it, make sure no one dies because we got sloppy.”
Evan studied the map, fingers tracing routes, lips moving as he calculated timing and distance. Nate watched him with the kind of quiet attention that spoke of intimate knowledge, of knowing exactly how Evan's mind worked when he was problem-solving.
“Stagger the shifts,” Evan said finally. “Instead of clean three-hour blocks, offset by thirty minutes. First pair starts at six, second at six-thirty. Creates overlap during transition, eliminates the gap.”
“Good.” I marked the change on the master schedule. “What else?”
“Communication protocol. If something happens during a shift, who do they report to? You? Me? Both?”
“You, unless I'm unreachable. Then Luke.” I watched him process that, watched the weight of command settle onto shoulders that were still learning how to carry it. “You're not just coordinating anymore, Evan. You're making calls. Real calls. People's lives depend on you getting it right.”
The silence stretched. Nate shifted slightly closer to Evan. Not obvious, just a subtle closing of distance that spoke of support. Of presence. My son noticed, and some of the tension bled from his posture.
“I can do this,” Evan said quietly.
“I know you can.” And I did. But knowing didn't make it easier to hand him responsibility that could get him killed. “But Evan. You make a mistake, you own it. You don't hide it, don't minimize it, don't make excuses. You bring it to me immediately so we can fix it before it becomes catastrophic. Clear?”
“Clear.”
“Good.” I rolled up the maps, handed them to him. “Start tonight. Luke's expecting you at eighteen hundred hours for briefing.”
Evan took the maps, and I watched something shift in his expression. Boy becoming man, heir becoming Alpha. It happened every time I pushed him, every time I trusted him with pieces of the pack's survival. Claire would have been proud. Would have seen our son stepping into leadership and known she'd raised someone worth following.
“Dad.” Evan's voice pulled me back. “I won't let you down.”
“I know.” The words came out rough. “Now get out of here. Both of you. Go do something that doesn't involve logistics and death.”
