Mac watched a breeze move through the tall grass. “Not even a little.”
Marcus snorted. “You’re lying.”
Mac smiled faintly. “A little.”
Across the clearing laughter and conversation drifted through the air. Soldiers mixed easily with civilians, contractors with old friends and family members who had traveled a long way to be here. A few guests carried themselves with the quiet awareness of something older than any government, but most saw only a wedding on a beautiful stretch of Colorado land.
Melvin’s parents sat in the second row beside his sister Jasmine. Telling them the truth about Mac had been one of the first things Melvin had done after returning from Iraq. His mother had accepted it faster than anyone expected. His father had taken longer, but the moment he met Mac something shifted, and now the older man treated him like a second son.
Jasmine had been easier to convince. She had liked Mac from the moment they met in New York and still claimed credit for calling the whole thing before Melvin ever admitted it.
Mac’s family filled nearly an entire row behind them. His parents sat with Rachel while the rest of his siblings spread out beside them. six brothers and sisters had brought noise, opinions, and more teasing than Mac expected, especially after they all learned Melvin shifted into a panther. They had taken the news surprisingly well. The teasing had never really stopped.
Together they created the easy chaos of a family gathering, the kind that made the quiet meadow feel warmer.
Beyond the chairs stretched the three hundred acres Mac and Melvin had bought that spring. Rolling hills, timber, and the distant edge of the nature preserve that had been neutral ground long before Mac had ever heard the word pack.
The place had felt right the moment they stepped onto it.
Marcus followed Mac’s gaze toward the distant treeline.
“You really did it,” he said quietly.
Mac shrugged. “We did.”
Marcus studied him. “Your Alpha sign off?”
Mac nodded. “He did.”
Approval had come two months earlier during a quiet meeting that lasted less than ten minutes. Permission to establish a pack. Acknowledgment that the land they had chosen would stand as its territory. It had felt less like a promotion and more like being trusted with something older than rank.
Marcus smiled slowly. “Damn.”
Across the clearing Baxter approached with two drinks in hand, his wife walking beside him.
He handed one to Marcus before looking Mac up and down. “You clean up alright, Captain.”
Mac shook his head lightly, still not used to hearing the new rank. “First names today, Quinn. It’s a wedding, not a staff meeting.”
Baxter grinned. “Right. Sorry. Habit.”
Mac glanced down at the suit jacket and tugged at the sleeve. “Still feels wrong without boots.”
Baxter laughed. “You’ll survive.”
His wife nudged him gently. “Leave the groom alone.”
Marcus lifted his drink. “Too late for that.”
More people filtered into the chairs. Diaz waved from near the front row. Lucero stood beside him arguing with Barnes about something that looked suspiciously like baseball.
The easy noise settled across the clearing like sunlight. Peace, Mac thought, and the word still felt unfamiliar. For a long time he believed peace only existed between missions.
Movement at the edge of the chairs caught his eye.
Reynolds was approaching.
He looked different than a year ago, stronger in his posture, more certain in the way he moved. He stopped in front of Mac and Marcus, hands tucked loosely into his jacket pockets.
