If you’re going to be another source of chaos in my life, then just go away.
I sit frozen, caught between the urge to drive away, to run to Emma, and the pull of responsibility and family connection that I’ve been avoiding for years.
Movement in my peripheral vision makes me turn. Mason emerges from behind the old garage, stopping short when he spots the truck and catches a trace of my scent in the air. Even from this distance, I can see his eyes widen in surprise. He raises a hand, more greeting than summons, then jerks his head toward the bar, which serves as the clan headquarters.
No backing out now.
The familiar scent of home hits me as soon as I climb from the truck and step outside. Pine and earth, motor oil from the garage, stale beer and sawdust. It should be comforting and nostalgic. Instead, it makes my muscles tense, and the teenage boy who still lives inside me wants to shift and run.
Mason waits as I approach, and when I get close enough, he pulls me into a brief, back-slapping hug. “Jesus, have you gotten even bigger?”
Another Lennox bear who’s working for Chase, I see him regularly at the training grounds or on the mountain, but never here.
“I don’t want to say I told you so, but it’s about time you came back,” he says against my shoulder before stepping back. His eyes scan my face, taking in the wildness that still clings to me, and his smile vanishes. “You look like shit. Was telling Ben that bad?”
“Worse.”
He knows about Emma but wisely opts not to broach it directly, leaving the door open for me to talk about it if I want to. I don’t.
My voice comes out rough. “Where’s Mitch?”
Mason frowns but knows better than to expect small talk and banter from me. I’m not in the mood for hanging around. I’ll do what I came to do and then be on my way, guilt assuaged and conscience clear.
“Bar. Fair warning, half the clan’s already gathered.”
As he leads the way, I scan the area, noting changes as we walk. New construction on the east side, fresh paint on several buildings, and a training field that wasn’t there before. Signs of growth, of life moving forward without our father’s negative influence. All Mitch. He’s done a good job. Anyone who’s saying otherwise is doing so for their own selfish reasons.
Clan members emerge from doorways as we pass, some nodding acknowledgment, others just staring. I recognize most of the faces, even if I can’t recall all their names. They keep their distance, unsure of my mood and my intentions, used to hearing my father’s warnings that I was too big and dangerous to betrusted. He’d goad me into a reaction, then call me aggressive and feral to justify pushing me out.
And nobody was strong enough to stop him.
The bar sits at the centre, a rustic log structure that’s been expanded over generations, with guesthouses being added upstairs and meeting rooms at the back. Voices drift through open windows, too many to count. The rumble of conversation stops as Mason and I climb the front steps and push through the old saloon-style doors.
You could hear a pin drop as they realise who’s come to join the party.
Mitch greets us in the doorway, the touch of grey hair at his temples hinting at the stress he’s under. He studies me for a long moment, then steps aside with a brusque nod.
“Come on in,” he says simply. “We’ve been waiting for everyone else to get here.”
The great room is packed. Marcus is leaning against the fireplace, arms folded across his chest, but his expression is unreadable. Eyes dark and intense as always. Maddox perches on a windowsill, watching every movement. Filling the rest of the space are at least thirty clan members.
All eyes turn to me as I find a seat, both the weight of their attention and the absolute silence suffocating.
“Bodhi.” An older woman, Iris, pushes forward from the crowd. “It’s so good to see you back home.”
The room holds its breath, everyone waiting to see whether I confirm I am, in fact, home for good.
“I’m here to support your Alpha,” I say carefully. “Nothing more. But it’s good to see you again too.”
Disappointment flashes across several faces while others look relieved. Garrett, standing with a cluster of the old guard near the back door, smirks as if I’ve just confirmed something he suspected. And it’s made his day.
“Support?” Iris’s voice sharpens. “I thought you were coming back to teach these insubordinate cubs a lesson?”
She glares at Garrett, clearly not a fan of his, and he smirks back, earning himself the middle finger from the sweet little old lady who looks like she spends her evenings knitting and baking cakes.
“Iris.” Mitch warns, but she waves him off.
“Don’t tell me to be quiet.” She turns back to me, and I see decades of frustration in her weathered face. “You’re not a scared teenager anymore, Bodhi. You’re a grown man with responsibilities to this clan, to your bloodline. It was you who took down the previous alpha, after all. You’ve earned your spot.”
