“It embedded in the drywall, Finn. That’s not a pencil throw. That’s a statement.”
We pushed through the doors into the night air. The grounds were dark, the treeline black against a sky full of stars. I breathed it in, pine and cold earth, and the tension I’d been carrying in my shoulders all week loosened for the first time.
Then Luca’s tone shifted, dropping the lightness like a coat he didn’t need anymore.
“Lorraine’s been quiet. Two weeks, no pack hall visits, no calls, no scenes. And your mother hasn’t contacted the pack liaison in over a week, which has never happened.”
I stopped walking. “Both of them? At the same time?”
“Both of them. At the same time.”
“Maybe they got tired.”
“Lorraine’s hobby is you, Finn. She doesn’t get tired. She regroups.” He faced me, hands still in his pockets but his posture had changed, shoulders squared, chin up. The laid-back mask was gone. “I’m telling you, this is coordinated. They’re planning. You need to get ahead of this before it gets ahead of you.”
“I’ll handle it.”
“When?”
“Soon.”
“You said soon three weeks ago. Soon is starting to feel a lot like never.”
“I said I’ll handle it, Luca.”
“And I believe you. But you’ve got a blind spot the size of this estate when it comes to your mother, and Lorraine knows how to exploit it. They both do.”
He held my gaze for a beat, and his face said everything his mouth didn’t. I turned and kept walking and felt his eyes on my back the whole way to the car.
At the estate, in my office, my phone lit up with Margaret’s name. I’d been ducking her calls for weeks, texting back one-word answers, and I knew I couldn’t avoid her forever. My moodwas good tonight, the wolf calm and quiet inside me. I figured I could handle a conversation.
“Hello, Mother.”
“Finneas! I wasn’t sure you’d pick up.” Her voice was warm, pleased, and my shoulders loosened a little because she sounded like the version of her I missed. The one from before my father died, before she became the woman who cried at every conversation.
“I’m here. What’s going on?”
“Does a mother need a reason to call her son?”
“No. But you usually have one.”
She let that pass with a light laugh. “I was thinking about your father today. About how proud he’d be of you. The company, the pack, everything you’ve built.”
My chest tightened. She always started with my father. “Thank you, Mother.”
“He always said leadership was about making wise choices. Not just the business decisions. The personal ones too. Who you trust. Who you surround yourself with.” She paused. “Who you build a future with.”
“Mother.”
“I’m not pushing, sweetheart.”
“You’re always pushing.”
“I’m thinking out loud. You’re thirty-two. You have the pack, the company, a legacy your father started. I just want to know you’re building with the right people.”
“I am.”
“Are you? Because I hear things, Finneas. I hear you’ve been distracted. Missing briefings. Spending time away from the pack.”
