“This is on me,” I say firmly. “I’m the pack alpha. I was the one he worked under. I was the one he tried to kill.” I tighten my hands briefly on Beck’s legs, grounding myself as much as him. “If anyone missed something, it was me.”
Warren shakes his head. “That’s not?—”
“I’m not debating you,” I say, calm and absolute. “You protected this pack. All of you did.” My gaze moves deliberately from Warren at the table, bloodied but breathing. To Beck, perched in front of me with a bruised eye. And to Tansy, with her marked arms and steady gaze. “You were all so brave. Every single one of you.” I pause, looking at each one of my boys. “I’ve never been prouder of my pack.”
Silence settles over the kitchen, heavy but steadier than before.
Warren closes his mouth. His shoulders sag a fraction, like he’s finally letting the weight shift off him—even if he doesn’t want to.
“I get it now,” Tansy’s soft voice breaks the silence.
Every head turns. Mine included.
I frown, confused. “Get what?”
“What you said about revenge.” Her expression is so soft and open, like every fiber of her being is calm. “About how revenge isn’t always about anger or punishment.” She glances briefly at Warren, then back to me. “Sometimes it’s about protecting the people you love. Making sure the threat stops for good.”
The room goes very still.
“I don’t feel bad that Jimmy is dead,” she says, evenly. “Not even a little.” Her chin lifts a notch. “I’m proud that I was the one who ended it.”
Something in Beck breaks at that.
He makes a small, involuntary sound and leans hard into her side, like his body finally remembers where it’s safe. The shock drains out of him all at once, leaving exhaustion and relief in its wake.
Tansy wraps her arms around him immediately, pulling him close. She presses her face into his hair and breathes him in, scenting him slow and deliberate. Beck’s hands clutch at her shirt, his forehead dropping to her shoulder as he finally lets himself come apart.
I watch them hold each other. Tansy, steady and upright, Beck folded into her as if he’s been waiting for permission to stop being strong.
Inside, something tighter and heavier moves through me.
I recognize the look on Tansy’s face. The calm. The certainty. It’s the first stage, and I know better than to believe her happy mood will last. Right now, she feels content with what she did.
It won’t stay that way.
Soon grief will come, followed by anger and maybe even depression. But that’s okay. I’ll be by her side when it happens. We all will.
Three Months Later
Tansy
I wake up a little too warm, buried deep in my nest.
A slow yawn works its way out of my chest, then I stretch slowly. Toes pointing, arms reaching up and out. But instead of the usual pleasant pull, a deep ache begins to bloom low in my belly. It's not sharp, just a steady soreness that seems to resonate right through to my core.
I feel my abs contract, not in a spasm, but in a slow, deliberate clench that holds and holds.
Uncomfortable, I try to roll, but Cass’s solid weight is at my back, familiar and grounding even in sleep. His scent is everywhere. Deep, steady, unmistakably him. Warren is there too, close enough that I can feel the calm, cool edge of his presence like a quiet hand on my thoughts. Grason’s warmth presses in from the other side, all solid comfort and quiet strength, his breathing slow and even.
Someone snores softly. I’m pretty sure it’s Grason. It’s low and rhythmic and ridiculously comforting.
I smile to myself and turn my head.
Beck is inches away.
His eyes are already open, bright and blue and focused entirely on me, like he’s been waiting for me to wake up. “Good morning, gorgeous,” he whispers.
The smile that spreads across my face feels too big for my cheeks. I can’t stop it even if I wanted to. “You’re staring,” I whisper, teasing.
