Matt tilted his head in recognition of Tristan’s question but took a while to answer. “He gave me names, timelines, pack structure. If it checks out, we’ll talk again.”
And if it didn’t? Tristan found he couldn’t ask that question.
“It will,” he said, pouring confidence he didn’t entirely feel into his voice. Because Colby was telling the truth, but that didn’t mean he knew enough to satisfy Matt.
Matt shrugged slightly. “He said all the right things. Whether they were true, we’ll see.”
“He’s not like the rest of them,” Tristan said firmly. “He’s definitely telling the truth.”
Matt’s gaze on him was steady. Just as Matt was. He always knew his own mind, and that was what was terrifying Tristan. If he decided against Colby, there’d be nothing Tristan could do or say to sway him.
“You’re not objective in this, Tristan. That’s not a criticism—it’s just true.”
And the worst of it was, Matt was damn well right. Like he always was. “I know,” Tristan said, “but you have to remember, he helped me. I’d never have gotten away without him.”
“And if it turns out he acted in good faith, then I’ll be beholden to him for that,” Matt said. “Now, I don’t know about you, but I could eat.”
Everyone settled around the long table, Jason serving the food as Dave swatted Christian’s hand away from the pie. “For after, not before, damn it.”
“If it’s edible,” Jason muttered. “Someone”—and he looked around, hunting for guilt—“moved the cinnamon. You nearly got cumin with your apple instead.”
“Could’ve been interesting,” Jesse said. “How come Christian’s got more potatoes than me?”
It was warm and familiar and smelled like home—roasted chicken, herbs, and pastry. And yet, something in Tristan didn’t settle. His mind was on Colby in hislonely, cold stall.
Eventually, he hauled his attention back to the bright kitchen, and looked around the table, studying each welcoming, loved face in turn, and thankful beyond words that he was back here.
Bryce was missing, no doubt out patrolling, as was Karl. He’d still be guarding Colby, he thought with a shiver. Karl was intimidating. He’d be a lethal enemy, but he was an amazing ally. He was beyond competent, and caring in a way that would be easy to miss.
He wasn’t like Bryce, who wore his heart on his sleeve and was always right there whenever any of them were upset. Karl was much quieter, less obvious in his care, but Tristan still remembered Karl finding him, supposedly by accident, when he’d been off in the depths of the woods, upset from bullying at school. Karl hadn’t hugged him, assured him he was better than them, or offered to tear their throats out—well, he may have done that last one, but he gave the impression that was more for fun than anything else. He’d simply listened, then spent the afternoon teaching Tristan how to track.
Tristan hadn’t thought of that afternoon in years. Wondering why he was thinking about it now, it came to him—he was frantically clutching onto anything that might save Colby. Any hint of kindness, of understanding. Because while Matt’s word was law, helistenedto Karl. To Bryce too, as pack beta, but Bryce would always follow Matt’s lead. There was a respect between Matt and Karl that went deep, like Karl was almost his equal and his loyalty was something freely given, not expected. And Tristan had never once seen Matt take that for granted. Maybe Tristan’s next step should be convincing Karl of Colby’s innocence.
“Asfaloth’s pacing, and her udder’s filling,” Dave said, glancing at Matt. “I moved her to the bottom pasture, but I don’t love her foaling in the open at this time of year. She should be in the barn.”
“Fucking ridiculous name. Sounds like someone sneezed,” Christian grumbled, as he did whenever the mare was mentioned. Asfaloth was the first—and last—horse Dave had been allowed to name.
“Just cause you want to do your caterwaulin’ in comfort,” Jesse said.
Dave grinned, unbothered. “Damn straight. She likes my singing.”
“Must be the only one that does,” Christian muttered, and laughter rolled around the table, easy and familiar. Even Matt huffed in amusement. It hadn’t even been funny—this felt more like the release of tension.
“She really should be in the barn,” Dave repeated, looking to Matt.
Christian scooped up a forkful of potato. “Well, one stall’s gonna be free soon. Can’t imagine Matt keeping that particular guest in five-star accommodation much longer.”
There was more easy laughter, recognizing the truth of Christian’s statement, but something inside Tristan froze. He stared down at his plate as the conversation went on around him, the same as ever. But for the first time, he was listening to it, not part of it.
He darted a quick glance around and saw only easy smiles. No one had meant it cruelly. But somehow, that was worse.
Not worse than Cale’s pack. God, no. That was a trash fire in a war zone. But still, this stung in a different place, somewhere raw and unexpected. They were relaxed about Colby being kept locked up, being kept prisoner the same way Tristan had been. They were laughing about the fact he mightdie.
Riley was the only one who hadn’t laughed. He was entirely focused on Jason, sitting beside him. And Tristan realized that what the pack was doing to Colby, making him an outsider, someonewho didn’t belong, was exactly what he’d done to Riley. He stillhatedthe way Riley had tricked Jason and hurt him so badly. It had been three weeks since Tristan had thought he’d witnessed someone’s heart literally break.
But now, Jason was quietly and completelyhappy.And Riley was still here, still with him, still part of the pack—and God, that had stuck in Tristan’s gullet when he realized Matt was letting him join. Yet here Tristan was, expecting the pack to accept Colby when he hadn’t extended that same understanding and forgiveness to Riley. He couldn’t ask for grace without giving it.
And if Riley could belong, then maybe... maybe Colby could too. Maybe Tristan wasn’t completely delusional for hoping.
