I stand in the kitchen of the cabin at Frostbourne and feel the connection between me and the woman in the next room, and my son at the table. And I know—with the certainty that lives below thought, in the place where wolves make their decisions—that I am exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Tomorrow I’ll stand in front of my pack and let them go.
Today, I’m going to sit down and eat breakfast with my family.
Chapter 34
Merric
I call the pack together three days after the attack. The compound has been repaired. The wounded are healing. The evidence has been delivered to Viktor at Aurora, and the coalition work is underway. Edda reaching out to sympathetic council members, Brenna’s field contacts carrying coded messages, Viktor building the larger case across the territories. That’s a war for many days. For battles not yet fought.
Today, I have a different announcement.
Brenna knows I’m ready for this. We discussed it last night, lying in the dark, her head on my chest, breath soft on my skin.
“You’re sure about this?” she asked yet again.
“Absolutely.” I look down at her in the shadows. “Do you have doubts?”
“You’re asking me to be the reason you lose your pack,” she said.
“I’m asking you to be the reason I find my family.”
She was quiet for a long time after that. Her fingers traced patterns on my chest—circles, lines, the absent geometry of a woman thinking hard.
“They’ll think you’ve lost your mind,” she said.
“Probably. Does it change anything?”
“No. But I wanted it on the record.”
Now I stand in the lodge, facing my pack yet again. Brenna to my left, Cameron beside her. To the right, Rook, Sienna, Dane, Briar—my wolves, my people, the ones who followed me south without question and have been beside me through everything that came after.
“I’ll keep this short,” I say. “You know what happened three days ago. You know what we found in the evidence. And you know that the political landscape of the southern packs has changed in ways we’re still understanding.”
The room is attentive. Waiting. They can feel it: the shift in pressure, the weight in their alpha’s voice that means something foundational is about to move.
“I’ve been your alpha for two decades. In that time, I’ve tried to lead with honesty, with strength, and with the best interests of Frostbourne at the center of every decision.” I pause. Look at the faces I’ve known for years: Tom Hale, who taught me to track when I was twelve. The kitchen women who fed me when my mother died. Petra, who I trained from a green recruit into the best fighter in the compound. “I haven’t always succeeded. My absence these past weeks was a failure of leadership. Edda was right to call me on it. Jonas held this pack together in my place, and he deserves recognition for that.”
Jonas, leaning against the wall in his usual position, shakes his head slightly. Not false modesty. Genuine discomfort with public praise. Some things don’t change.
“I’ve made a decision,” I say. “And I want you to hear it from me, directly, before the rumors start.”
The room shifts. They know something’s coming. Wolves read their alpha’s body language.
“I’m stepping down as alpha of Frostbourne.”
Silence. Total. The kind of silence that you can feel pressing against your skin.
“I’m moving to Ravenclaw territory. With Brenna. With Cameron. My mate and my son need a home, and I need to be where my family is.”
The silence breaks. Not into shouting; into murmurs. The low, spreading sound of a host of wolves processing something they didn’t see coming. I scan the room: shock on most faces, understanding on a few, anger on fewer still. Petra’s nostrils flare, and her eyes are bright. Karl Harwick has closed his eyes, one hand on the table, absorbing. Tom Hale grips his wife’s hand. Mira is staring at me like I’ve announced the end of the world.
Edda Beaumont is completely unmoving.
“I’m not abandoning this pack,” I say. “Frostbourne will always be part of me. Every wall, every path, every wolf in this room… you’re in my blood. You’ll stay in my blood. But I spent eighteen years putting my title above my family, and I won’t do it again. The man who walked away from his mate because an elder told him it was necessary… that man made the wrong choice. I’m making the right one now, even though it costs more.”
Rook speaks from beside me. His voice is low. Measured. The voice he uses when he’s translating something emotional into something the room can process.
