“Dane looks good,” I say, handing Ben a fresh bottle of beer. “Good to see our Alpha back on his feet.” I study Ben’s face—the gray pallor that had me worried is gone. “How are you feeling?”
“Much improved. Whatever Lyanna did worked.” Ben takes a sip of his beer. “Vitals are completely normal for everyone.” He glances at Callum. “Thanks for hauling me in. Couldn’t have been easy.”
I pat Ben’s stomach with a grin. “Might want to lay off Wyatt’s chocolate chip cookies for a while. Hauling your ass across the territory was a bitch.”
Ben’s mouth twitches. “And here I thought you were finally putting those muscles to good use.” He takes a long pull of his beer. “Besides, I was unconscious. What’s your excuse for being slow?”
Gabriel and Amara sit together on the sectional, her head on his shoulder as they talk quietly with Connor and Mariel, Kieran and Cassie. Kari’s helping Dawn distribute trays of food while Mateo bounces between groups with ridiculous enthusiasm.
My eyes find Lyanna across the room. She’s smiling as Harper murmurs something that makes her nod with visible relief—pack business handled, one less worry on her shoulders.
“Scanning for threats?” Ben asks quietly, amusement in his voice.
I glance at him. “Always.”
“Right.” His smirk is brief but knowing. “That why you’ve looked her direction six times in the last ten minutes?”
I don’t dignify that with a response.
Nova sits beside Dane in matching armchairs near the fireplace, their hands linked as they oversee the celebration. Both look remarkably healthy for people who were unconscious four days ago.
“This pack owes you their lives,” Dane says as I approach. “Every one of us.” He stands, extending his hand. “Thank you for holding things together while we were down.”
I take his hand, somewhat taken aback. Alphas don’t offer handshakes lightly—it’s a gesture of respect between equals.
“Lyanna made the breakthrough,” I say automatically. “I just kept things running.”
“You held the pack together when half of us were dying,” Dane says. “Security, logistics, kept everyone fed and functional. That’s leadership.”
I nod once. Step back.
Derek appears at my shoulder. “The monitoring equipment Lachlan sent is still active. We’ll know immediately if anyone relapses.”
When I glance up, Lyanna’s watching me. Her smile is small, private—just for me. Something warm unfolds in my chest.
Pack bonds hum through the Lodge like electricity, each connection clean and vibrant after the bond dampening procedure. The sensation reminds me of the first deep breath after being underwater too long—essential, life-giving.
“To Lyanna!” Kieran raises his glass from the sectional where he sits with Cassie. “Without whom half of us would be dead.”
A chorus of cheers erupts as Lyanna smiles, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. She’s been moving between recovered pack members all evening, checking on them socially rather than medically now. The transition from crisis to celebration suits her—she looks lighter, less burdened.
“To everyone who kept us alive,” Dane adds, raising his glass higher. The pack echoes the sentiment.
I grab two plates from the buffet and start loading them—roasted vegetables, Gabriel’s enchiladas, the honey-glazed carrots Dawn makes. Kari appears beside me, following my gaze toward Lyanna.
“She’s been checking on everyone else all evening,” Kari observes. “Hasn’t stopped moving.”
I add more food to the second plate without comment.
Kari’s mouth quirks. “Subtle.”
“Wasn’t trying to be.”
Across the room, Lyanna accepts a glass of wine from Nova. When she looks up and catches my eye, something shifts in her expression—surprise, then warmth.
I make my decision. Time to find somewhere quieter.
I find Lyanna near the windows, momentarily alone. “Hungry?” I ask, offering the second plate.
