Keon
SCOTCH WAS Aterrible idea, but Keon poured one to leave on the coffee table. While he wallowed in self-pity and chased painkillers with water, Weston bustled around the house, gathering supplies to make a splint.
After half an hour, he was feeling himself again, a strap of leather between his teeth as he crafted a splint for his ankle and knee from torn bedsheets, planks of wood, and masking tape.
“How are your injuries, Alpha?” Weston asked, packing the unused items and lifting his foot onto a low stool for support.
“A cracked rib, a broken leg, a sprained ankle, and bruises, but I’ll live,” Keon replied, aware he’d been lucky. If it weren’t for first aid training at the fraternity, he’d have been screwed. Usher could pack one killer punch. Which reminded him… “What shape is Usher in?”
Weston cleared his throat and perched on the armchair across the table. “I’m afraid Alpha Thatcher refused treatment,” he revealed, pausing long enough for Keon to lift his gaze. “He said he didn’t trust you, or your pack. He’s having Usher treated by their pack doctor.”
Keon hummed and tried to get comfortable. “Which means he brought the pack doctor,” he said, considering the implications. “You remove your doctor from your village for two reasons: you plan to cause trouble and expect to need him, or you plan on moving in.” He glanced at Weston. “I think we know what Thatcher was betting on. Shame he underestimated the scrappy kid never meant to be in charge.”
He would gladly prove Thatcher wrong a hundred times, if he had the chance.
“He won’t repeat that mistake.”
Farley’s strong voice was a welcome relief. Keon gestured to the sofa. “There’s a drink with your name on it,” he admitted, sipping at the bottled water to rehydrate. With painkillers and thinking clearly, the initial fatigue and pain fought through, he needed to replace the water he’d been sweating and bleeding out during the fight.
Farley grunted, pausing by the coffee table to lift the glass. “Scotch?” He didn’t wait for a reply, downing the contents and hissing at the burn. “Be a good lad and pour me another.” He sank onto the sofa beside Keon, scrubbed at his face, and breathed slow and steady as Weston poured another drink.
Farley brightened as Weston delivered the top-up. “To your continued good health and fast recuperation,” he toasted to Keon, sipping with appreciation.
Across the table, Weston muttered a reciprocation and drank coffee.
“I had an interesting complaint from Thatcher. He’s missing men. Six, he reckons. I can’t imagine where they’ve gone.” Farley’s eyes sparkled with knowing approval, as surprise swirled uncomfortably in Keon’s belly.
He’d have shrugged if he didn’t feel like his shoulders had been beaten raw. “I can’t be held responsible if pack members choose to jump ship after seeing how much of a tyrant their Alpha is. I’m a weak Alpha-in-training, and I don’t have the authority to do anything against the big bad Thatcher.”
They laughed, but Farley hadn’t delayed his departure to have a scotch and chat. He was a busy man, and they’d spent most of the evening gossiping over dinner. He had a reason for lingering, and the sooner they dealt with it, the sooner Keon could sleep.
The Meskli hummed. “I’ve known you all your life,” he said, gazing into what was left of his scotch. “Weston told me what happened with Vega, and the man I see today is different to the lad you were. Stronger.” He glanced at Keon and his lips twitched. “But you’re struggling. You hold an immense responsibility on your shoulders. One you weren’t properly prepared for. After what happened with your brother and father, with Vega, I understand you’re overwhelmed. You surrendered everything?your dreams, a new life, new friends?to return home, not knowing your world would change in soul-shattering ways.”
What an understatement. Keon swallowed his emotions and waited for the point.
“Don’t close off your emotions, lad. They’ve guided you well, and are what held you together during the fight. Your people stood behind you, because you bled emotion on that podium. You showed them who you truly are, andthatis why you won that fight,” Farley argued, encouraging but rubbing at a raw wound. “Hold them tight and utilise them. Don’t hide your greatest strength.”
Laying his head against the sofa, Keon contemplated the words, but couldn’t see how they made sense. “How do I find balance?” he asked, refusing to pretend he wasn’t a volcano waiting to erupt. He hadn’t grieved, he’d lost his true mate, was floundering as Alpha, and everything he worked for could incinerate if he didn’t find a new mate by his birthday. “I feel like I’m ready to crack, if I let them out.”
He needed to sleep, but sleep was impossible when he constantly woke to new drama and new problems. If he didn’t get a mental break from the stress soon, he may not recover from the inevitable fallout.
“Break.” Farley patted his thigh and shook his head. “You will be stronger, in the end.”
It was hard to trust his emotions. Everything had become conflicted and twisted, past mixing with the present, everything blurred. Truths Keon had known for years became unclear.
Vihaan had changed or he’d stopped seeing it through rose-coloured glasses. An old professor said everyone viewed life through the window of their experiences. If his experiences had been shaped by his brothers, being unwanted by his pack, and losing half of his family by the age of eighteen, what did that say about him?
“In Dnara, life and love are easy. People meet, date, become lovers, fall in love, and get married, if they’re lucky,” he explained, wondering if Farley had spent time in Dnara. “I was accepted for who I was; I wasn’t an anomaly or different. I was me. Some parts of the world would have hated me, but I never experienced that,” he said, hoping to give an honest, unbiased view. “I was always different to the rest of the pack. I wanted to be accepted, even when I went to Dnara. I wanted this perfect life that, I never realised, doesn’t exist. No one gets the fairy-tale story.”
He sipped water and raked a hand through his hair. The sweat had dried sticky, indicating a potential bloody wound, but he couldn’t find the will to care. “I didn’t realise I was heartsick for home. I wanted to have that acceptance and support here, with my family. My father thought I’d be safer and happier in Dnara.”
“What did that teach you?”
“I was lucky my father loved me. Supported me. He never shunned me for who I am, or how I feel,” Keon replied automatically, though he’d learned much more. “We need more acceptance. Our children, friends, and family are banished or escaped to Dnara because they weren’t safe at home.” He revealed the bare truth, meeting Farley’s steady gaze. “I came home hoping to give them the freedom Rylee gave me. We need someone to set the precedence. I knew I needed to come home and teach the pack new ways. To fight for our freedom to love and be who we are,” he confessed, proud of the realisation, though he’d done a shitty job of implementing it.
Keon took another sip of water. “Seeing the bad shit—especially what Drew went through—made me angry. No one should suffer what he did, but watching him confront Aniel showed me how strong he was. He’d suffered, but was still a man, strong and brave. I wanted to be as brave as him.”
Farley tutted and nudged him with his shoulder. “Youarebrave.” Shaking his head, he ticked off the fingers of his left hand. “Brave to return, knowing what Simeon had done but unsure of your reception. You faced Vega and rejected him. You challenged Thatcher when he violated your invitation and killed a member of your pack. You fought Usher, bravely and with determination, for the sake of your pack. When you take a matenotyour true mate, you’ll show further bravery, by putting your pack before your heart.”
