Then he turns to Dina. “Walk us through anything I’ve missed from your report, and the wards,” he says, like he’s tossing her a ball he knows she’ll catch.
She does. She’s cool and detailed, describing the kidnapping and then the wards; the shimmer and knotwork, the way the air changed, and the way the wards collapsed when she disrupted the circuits. She sketches a diagram on the pad in front of her, and as she does, it’s like every eye in the room is recalibrating its estimate of her. Even Luna, who’s seen her at work before, leans in, nodding along as if Dina is the only one speaking her language.
I listen, proud and a bit awed. She doesn’t flinch or stumble over technical terms, and she’s so damn impressive in her delivery, I feel a rush of pride every time she delivers a perfect observation that has everyone nodding along.
As Dina wraps up her explanation, Nick raises a hand. “Hold on. I want you to see something. Cameras we recovered from one of the other cabins.” He taps a key on his laptop, then gestures at the wall-mounted monitor as the screen comes to life
For a second, it’s just motionless frames of the cabin’s exterior and a slice of dirty window. Then Dina appears in the top left corner, a blur of movement as she muscles open theframe, Alora strapped to her chest. I know the story already, but nothing could have prepared me for how it looks from the outside. Dina is calm, deliberate, and terrifyingly efficient. She slides through, protecting Alora the whole time, barely making a sound. She lands catlike, then, without hesitation, scans the perimeter before melting into the shadows behind the cabin.
Nick switches the camera angles, and there she is again, glancing up once at the lens before ducking out of view. For a moment, I think the rogues must have seen her, but the timestamps say they were arguing on the porch, not watching the feeds. She’s within a foot of the camera and doesn’t hesitate. Then the feed jumps again. This time, she’s crouched by one of the ward posts, Alora cradled in the crook of an elbow, her free hand carefully unwinding the thread and breaking the circuit in two sharp moves. The shimmer in the air distorts the whole screen for a second, then collapses. The feed pixelates, then returns. She’s already gone.
Nick lets the video loop silently, then turns to the room. “I want you all to watch that again,” he says, voice low and even. “Because that is how we beat what’s left of the Cheslem rogues. Not with brute force, but with initiative, brains, and the kind of courage that doesn’t wait for permission.”
Everyone is watching Dina now, and she looks a little uncomfortable, like she’d rather crawl out of the room than accept the attention, but she holds her ground.
“I don’t know if you realize how important your training was here, and a little luck,” Nick goes on. “You were two seconds away from being seen by the runner on the south side.” He points at a shadow in the far corner, a shape I hadn’t noticed before. “But you never panicked. You read the field, you adapted, and you broke those wards. That’s the kind of thinking I want on my patrols.”
He glances at me, as if trying to figure out what’s going on between us before offering what comes next. “Dina, I want you to join the security detail. Not just as a consultant or a temp, but as a full member. If you’re willing.”
I don’t even let the beat hang. “She’s in,” I say, and the room laughs, the sound genuine and grateful. “We’ll work out the logistics with Alora. Whatever it takes.”
Bryan leans over, grinning. “Your dad would’ve been proud, you know. Dina blinks fast, and for a second, she’s not the warrior on that screen but just a girl who lost her whole world and somehow found her place here.
“Thank you,” she manages, voice steady despite the emotion rolling off her. “I…I appreciate it.” Her eyes flick to me, and there’s a warmth there, something that passes between us because she knows I understand.
I slide my arm around her shoulders, easy and public, making no effort to hide the fact that I’m staking a claim. I feel the ripple through the room, a few glances exchanged, but nobody says a word. If anything, Connor just lifts his chin and smirks, as if he knew this was coming all along.
Nick runs through the rest of the agenda: the new patrol rotations, Luna’s plan to reinforce the magical barriers, and the plan for rounding up the remaining rogues. When Nick finally adjourns, the mood is a strange cocktail of exhaustion and uplift; like a team that just survived overtime, battered but maybe more bonded than ever. Most of the betas file out, but Dina gets waylaid by Luna, who chatters to her in low, excited tones. I watch them, the way Luna puts a hand on Dina’s arm and holds her gaze, and I know she’s not just talking about wards or security. She’s checking on her the way only a Luna can. Dinamanages a smile, then a real one, and for a second, she looks lighter than I’ve ever seen her.
As I’m bundling up Alora, tucking her limbs into her puffy snowsuit, Nick comes over. He’s approaching differently than usual, less alpha, more…dad, maybe. He tugs me aside, just for a second, his voice low so nobody else can hear.
“You good?” he asks, nodding toward Alora, then to where Dina stands with Luna and Ruby. “Really good?”
I know what he’s asking. I could give him a speech about my wolf and the bond and the future, but none of that’s what matters. “I’m better than I’ve ever been,” I say. My voice surprises me. It’s not a joke, not a defense; it’s just the truth. “Thank you,” I add, because I know what he risked bringing me into Silvercreek, and I appreciate that more than ever today.
Nick’s mouth twitches. “You earned it,” he says. “She belongs here, and so do you. Soak it in.” He claps my shoulder, then heads back to the table, already brainstorming another round of contingencies with Thomas and Bryan. He’s not going to stop until those rogues are finished. None of us will.
When we finally head home, Dina tugs her coat tighter and walks at my side, our steps matching unconsciously. The air is crisp and almost impossibly clear, the sky that blue that makes you think everything’s going to be ok—at least for a moment. I want to memorize the walk; the way the town looks at this hour, the sound of Dina’s laugh as she tells me about the time her dad made her do perimeter in a blizzard as “character building.” I want to bottle this feeling of calm, keep it safe from whatever comes next.
Home is warm in a way that has nothing to do with the new heating system. The old house has started to settle into itself, the kitchen smells warm and comforting now, the livingroom is littered with Alora’s toys, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I shed my jacket and watch Dina peel Alora’s layers off with the deftness of a woman who’s been doing it for years. She sits on the couch, settles Alora into the crook of her arm, and pops a bottle into her mouth. Alora latches on instantly, blissed out and greedy.
I stand back for a second, just watching them. Dina’s head tips, her hair falling like a curtain around her face and the baby’s, and for a second, the world narrows to that. Her, and Alora, and the way the late sunlight cuts through the window and softens the whole scene. My wolf goes quiet, which is stranger than any of the chaos that’s ruled my life for months. There’s no hunger, no fear, no edge. Just this yawning, gentle certainty that I have everything I’ll ever need or want right here.
Chapter 20 - Dina
There’s magic in the way Alora’s hair never stays tidy, no matter how long I try with the detangler and the soft bristle brush. She sits in the bouncer on the bathroom counter, a blue gingham dress bunched around her thighs, and every time I try to smooth out a cowlick, she grins wider and swings her feet harder. Her eyes track my every movement in the mirror, and even though she’s still so little, her gaze is old and cunning. I know that look. It’s the one that means if I turn my back, she’ll grab everything within reach and cause chaos.
Today, she’s especially excitable, catching the air with both palms and shrieking at her own reflection. I stop for a second, struck by the color of the dress against her skin. It’s almost exactly the shade I’m wearing; Luna’s idea, not mine, but secretly, I love it. The fabric is soft and thin, making Alora look like a tiny, defiant doll, which is almost too much.
“Are you ready to cause trouble?” I ask her, setting the brush aside.
She gives a solemn nod, then immediately blows a spit bubble so huge it pops and spatters the glass.
“That’s what I thought.” I wipe up the mess and lift her down, clutching her close to my chest. She’s heavier than last week, and I know I’ll be saying the same thing next week, and the week after that. She’s growing so fast I can’t keep up, and when I hug her, I feel something like terror and joy all at once.
The whole town’s been talking about the pack fayre for weeks; Luna, Skylar, and Fern have put so much into it, planning every detail to perfection. It’s more than a celebration; it’s a white flag to the universe that we survived the winter, survived the rogues, survived everything that the world has thrown at usrecently. It’s a promise to the pack that there’s something worth looking forward to.
I adjust Alora’s dress, tucking a rogue curl behind her ear, and she tries to eat my finger, all gums and determination. “No,” I tell her. “You wear the dress, you don’t eat the dress.” She giggles, and it almost sounds like she understands.
