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I hear rustling from down the hall. The sound of horseplay. I poke my head out and call down, “You two better not be wrinkling your tuxedos!”
Orson stumbles into view from the kitchen. He clears a playful grin from his lips and smooths his hair with both hands. “Showing your brother a few stretches.”
Braxton enters the hall to hook an arm around Orson’s neck. “In return for a few moves.”
I shake my head. At least they’re getting along. I just hope it’s not at the expense of the mission. Jitters take many forms, I learned that during my time in the service. Those that exorcized them through play fared better than those who wallowed in dread. “How’s everything fit?” I ask.
They turn to one another and adjust each other’s bowtie. “You look spiffy, Orson,” Braxton says in a proper little voice.
“Dapper as any man’s ever looked, Braxton,” Orson says, giving a little bow.
You’d think they were headed to prom instead of battle. In their defense, this is a peculiar way to meet the enemy. Even I don’t know exactly how to process it. How to feel. I rummage for the pre-mission angst, but where it would ordinarily be found, I discover only focus. That should be reassuring, yet I can’t shake the sense I’ve missed something.
And it’s this mystery that finally sets off my nerves.
We’re going in blind. No matter how many times Orson runs the program, we can’t verify the count. We don’t know the exact layout of the compound, nor at what point in the proceedings Simon intends to make his entrance.
There are just too many variables.
But I’ve already decided no member of our team — of our pack—is going to die tonight. No matter the cost to the mission. It’s antithetical to Enforcer philosophy, but I’m no longer an Enforcer first. I’m Asha’s mate above everything. Asha and her well-being take precedent.
Last night’s flight of fancy has congealed in my thoughts to become my singular goal. The charming house on an acre of land, next to the woods, neighbored by the Blood Pack. The tire swing hanging from the bough of a willow tree in the front yard. The three to five children and all the noise and wonderful nuisance that come with them. Heaven.
Nobody will take this from us, not the Enforcers, not the Blood Mages, not Simon — or whatever the fuck has replaced Asha’s brother.
Tonight, I lead my team to victory. There is no other path.
The man in the mirror looks back at me with a cold and resolute stare. At his sides hang fists squeezed into hard balls, fingers tucked neatly into palms, knuckles white and ready to strike. In his eyes lurk the pacing beast of his wolf, snarling with its hackles raised and head lowered.
I step out of the bedroom to join Braxton and Orson in the kitchen. “Listen, nobody dies tonight,” I tell them, not mincing words.
“Not even Blood Mages?” Braxton asks bearing a wiseass smirk.
I don’t let him distract me. “At the first whiff of real danger to any of us, we abort.”
They flick their eyes at one another, then back to me. “The objective—” Orson starts.
“Fuck the objective,” I say emphatically, cutting him off. “The objective is last night’s dream, got it? Nothing else matters now. The only way to get to that dream is to free her pack and handle Simon, but that doesn’t mean it needs to be done tonight. If we can’t do it safely, we don’t do it.”
I know it’s not what Asha wants, but it’s the truth. If you go into a mission thinking that you have to accomplish your task, no matter the situation, you’ll likely end up dead. If you prepare yourself to pivot as needed and understand that you just need to live to fight another day, things change.
We just need to do our best. And survive.
“We can’t fight another day if we don’t survive,” I tell them, emphasizing each word.
Each inspects his own heart to find the same priority written there. They both nod. “Sure,” says Braxton.
“Pack over all,” says Orson.
I pull them together in a huddle. “Pack over all,” I echo.
“What’re you boys conspiring about?” The huddle breaks as we turn to watch Asha descend the stairs. By some magic foreign to me, she’s gathered up all the light in the room to wear its radiance like an accessory. Stunning. It's the only word for it. Or perhaps breathtaking, as the air suddenly seems scarce. When’s the last time I felt this intimidated by a woman? Likely never.
The blue dress she wears falls around her like a flower. Its delicate petals are like tiers of a waterfall as they stream down her body. The blue fabric is gathered above one leg, revealing the beauty of her flesh. It has a low neckline and thin straps, and the pale fabric floating over her pale skin is perfection.
She reaches the first floor like an angel descending from heaven, stilettoed feet delicately lighting on the carpet. “You…look…incredible,” I whisper. For some reason, volume feels irreverent so I make my voice as soft and gentle as her presence.
“Amazing,” Braxton adds.
