“No,” he lies badly.
“Liar,” she says kindly.
We finally let her go, and she taps my chest once over the brand. “I’m glad you’re both home.”
“Me too,” I say, voice low.
She turns toward the house and waves a hand. “Well, come on then. Dinner’s ready.”
Beau perks up instantly. “Food?”
“Yes, food.”
“What kind of food?” he asks, already halfway up the steps.
Violet tilts her face toward me, smile teasing, knowing. “You tell him, Jason.”
The scent hits me the moment we step inside.
Red wine, garlic, onions softened in butter, slow-cooked beef, herbs.
Warm bread.
My heart stops for a second.
“Is that—?” I start.
“Beef bourguignon,” she finishes. “I had a very good teacher once. A slightly deceptive one, but… competent.”
I laugh, the sound breaking around the edges. “How’d it turn out?”
“You tell me,” she says. “But no lying this time. Alpha’s honor.”
Beau inhales deeply. “I’m gonna marry this stew,” he declares.
“Get in line,” I say.
We gather around the table. Me, still aching from the brand; Buff, sniffling but smiling; Violet, relaxed and glowing in that quiet way she does when she knows she’s nailed something.
I take the first bite.
The rich, layered flavor floods my tongue. Comfort and memory and future all simmered into one perfect mouthful.
I close my eyes.
“Well?” she asks.
“It tastes like home,” I say.
She exhales, a little shudder of relief and pride.
We eat, we talk, we laugh.
Outside, the world is still dangerous. There are still enemies. There are still old alphas and old grudges and old ghosts to deal with.
But inside this house, at this table, with this woman and this wolf and this new burn over my heart, I have a pack. I have a place. I have a life that isn’t running.
And as Violet’s knee bumps mine under the table and Beau drips sauce everywhere and complains about it, I realize this isn’t just a good start to the rest of our life. This is our life.
