Page 121 of Starting a New Life

“Let’s drive for another hour to make sure we don’t have a tail, then you can ask him yourself.”

I blew out my breath.

An hour seemed like an eternity to wait to have my mate back in my arms.

The second the car pulled to a stop in the gas station’s parking lot, Nix was jumping from the bed, all the shields and barriers gone. My wolf pushed against my chest, but I wasn’t as quick as my mate. My muscles screamed in agony as I climbed out of the truck’s cabin.

I turned to hug my mate, but Connie was faster, his gangly teenage frame clinging to my mate, sobs wracking his body.

“Shh,” Nix said, eyes locked with mine as he awkwardly patted Connie’s back. “It’s over now. Everything’s okay.”

“He tried to kill Gray,” Connie whispered, but not low enough for me not to hear him. “He had a knife. Oh goddess… what if he’d succeeded?”

Nix’s eyes widened, his face twisting. Electricity danced over my skin, scanning my whole body. Nix’s bright blue eyes were firmly trained on me, gauging my every move.

“I’m okay,” I mouthed silently.

Nix relaxed a fraction and slowly let out his breath.

“He didn’t. Gray won. Everything is okay, I promise. You don’t have to go back ever again,” Nix whispered and pulled Connie in tighter, eyes filled with uncertainty. Like he didn’t know if he was doing the right thing.

And he probably didn’t.

I walked up to them and slowly placed my hand on the back of Connie’s neck, squeezing lightly, just enough for him to feel the gesture.

“You were fucking brave, pup,” I told Connie and waited for him to look at me.

“I didn’t do anything.” He sniffled. “Everyone could smell how terrified I was.”

I nodded. “Yeah, but guess what? Bravery isn’t doing the right thing when it’s easy. It means doing the right thing when it’s hard. When it downright terrifies you. And you did that.”

Connie swallowed audibly, pulling back from Nix a bit to turn his body towards me. “I don’t feel brave. I’m just…”

“Exhausted?” I asked, letting out a laugh. “I’ll let you in on a secret, okay?” He nodded. “I’m exhausted too.” I let a bit of tension bleed out of my shoulders, letting the bone-deep tiredness I was suppressing shine through. “And that’s okay.”

Nix nodded in agreement. “When Gray took care of the wolves threatening me, it was…” He paused, eyes locking with mine even as tears welled up in them. “At one point, it all comes crashing down. Your body and mind have been in survival mode for months now, and that takes a toll. That’s okay. You are allowed to be tired. To be exhausted. You’re allowed to be fucking done and angry and hurt and happy all at once.” Nix swallowed, his lips pressed into a thin white line as his eyes got shiny. “No one expects you to be fine after what you endured, okay? This pack—” He cleared his throat. “We will support you. No matter what, or how long it takes.” He hugged Connie again, and the teen clung to my mate. “The next time you doubt that you did anything, think about this: without you, Callum would still be a… a slave. Without you, we wouldn’t even have known about him.”

Fuck.

The mage.

I rubbed a hand over my face. I’d forgotten all about him.

Shit.

Everything in me protested as I turned my head away from my mate and searched for the unknown mage.

Oak was standing next to me, watching Nix and Connie like a hawk, a smile tugging at his lips. He turned to me and winked. “I hope you have room for two teenagers,” he whispered, low enough that no one else but me and Rhett could hear him.

Rhett snorted, but I only blinked at Oakley. What? As if Connie, the pup we’d just saved from his old Alpha, would want to move in with his new Alpha. Besides, what teenager voluntarily moved in with adults if they could stay at the packhouse instead? I got—and denied—requests from underage teenagers who officially wanted to move into the packhouse all the time.

My wolf, on the other hand, puffed out his chest, pride washing through me as his eyes darted back to Nix, who was still hugging and reassuring Connie.

Maybe…

No. I shook my head. Not happening.

I turned around, searching for the rest of my packmates. Heath and Angelo weren’t far away, and there was a third signature. The scent of ozone, the static right before a storm. Familiar and foreign all at once.