She sloughs off her boots, shaking snow in a neat pile on the mat. “I took Alora to the clinic. Skylar was running late, but it’s fine. It’s not late.” Her tone is so even, so pointedly neutral, I can feel the wall she’s built between us already. I ignore it for now and reach for Alora, who’s still snoring, cheeks bright pink from the cold.
I want to say something about last night, about the way she left this morning, but the threat I’ve dealt with today feels so much bigger. “There’s been movement on the border,” I say, voice low. “They’re not just sniffing around. It’s organized, and they’re using spellwork.” I hope she hears the warning beneath the words; that this is bad, and it’s getting worse.
Dina doesn’t flinch, just hangs up her coat, and then glances at me, eyes dark. “So what’s the plan?” She asks. No fear, just a challenge.
I hand her the printout from my pocket, the one with Connor’s map and the red X’s. “We’re doubling patrols. They want you to stay closer to town for a while, only go out when youhave to, at least until we know more.” I expect an argument; she doesn’t disappoint.
She scans the map, lips pressed tight, then slaps it on the counter. “That’s not really feasible.” Her laugh is sharp, humorless. “I’ll just stay indoors and play house. If Cheslem rogues attack, staying home won’t help.”
“I know, but…” I try, but trail off as she paces.
Restless energy radiates off her. “You think I can’t handle myself? I survived Cheslem, Caleb. I survived worse than border raids and bad magic.”
“I know that,” I say, softer, because I really do. The problem is, I know exactly how vulnerable she is, and the thought of her caught in a crossfire of old grudges and new Cheslem magic makes me sick.
I watch her, the way she bristles, the way her hands won’t stop moving, and I realize there’s no good way to win this argument. She doesn’t want to be coddled, but I’m wired to protect her, whether she wants it or not.
“We’re all targets,” I say. “But you and Alora…”
She stops, finally, and her eyes go glassy for a second. “It’s not about us. It’s about the whole pack.” She swipes the map back up, tracing a line along the border. “They’ll hit here next,” she says, tapping a spot west of the quarry. “It’s the only place you haven’t tripled up. If I were them, I’d go through the marsh, wait for a thaw, and come in under the ridge.”
I lean closer, surprised by the detail. “You sure?”
“I’m sure,” she says. “And if you had a minute to think past your own guilt, you’d see it, too. You want to stop them, you need to think like them.”
“Problem is, we don’t know who ‘them’ is,” I admit with a sigh, “I don’t recognize any of the scents specifically. It’s Cheslem, but a new guard, I don’t know who.”
She gives me a look that’s halfway between disgust and pity, before grabbing her coat, signaling she’s not staying. “Just more Cheslem rot. More evil.” She says quietly, and it stings even though I know she’s not wrong.
She heads toward the door, and everything in me screams to stop her again, just like last night, hold her close, keep her here. But I’m rooted to the spot by a mixture of guilt and ghosts, so instead, I just watch her walk away.
Chapter 14 - Dina
Rain is always a mood, and today my entire world is absolutely drowning in it.
I watch it sheet down the glass, blurring the view out of Caleb’s kitchen window. Alora is in the crook of my left arm, squirming with the kind of restlessness that says she’s either about to have an existential crisis or wants to be fed. I bounce her, waiting to see which way it’s going to go, and because the alternative is to put her down and listen to her scream, a sound that lately seems to vibrate at a frequency only the truly sleep-deprived can hear.
She’s been like this all morning, off and on, and I suspect that she’s picking up on my own shifting mood. Babies are sensitive to that, aren’t they? Body language, hormones, the low-grade electrical storm of anxiety that’s been crackling in me since things have escalated between Caleb and me. I haven’t been able to shake it, no matter how many times I tell myself to grow the fuck up.
I close my eyes for a second, letting the repetitive sound of the rain fill my head, hoping it’ll drown out the replay. It never does. I remember the way he looked at me, like he didn’t know what to say, or didn’t know if there was any point saying anything at all. I remember the way my heart hammered with the urge to stay, and then the way it shrank cold and hard when I thought of what my father would say if he could see me tangled up with a Cheslem wolf, even a reformed one. The ghosts between us aren’t just mine, but it feels like they’re mine to deal with.
Alora lets out a soft, grumpy sound, and I shift her to my other arm. She’s getting heavier, growing so well that it’sclear her wolf is going to be strong. Sometimes she’s so calm it’s unnerving, and sometimes she wails until I’m left in no doubt that she’s going to have a strong personality. Right now, she settles for staring at me with those wide, dark eyes, as if she’s trying to figure out what my problem is.
It’s a good question. What is my problem? I have a job, a home, and the relative safety of a pack that seems to want me here. I even have a baby to look after, who, for all her moods, is objectively adorable. But I can’t let go of the idea that I’m always one step away from losing it all. Maybe it’s the news about the Cheslem rogues on the border, or perhaps the situation with Caleb that has me so unsettled.
I set Alora in her bouncer and watch as she kicks her feet, frowning at the dangling toys. “You and me both, kid,” I mutter, and she gives me a look that feels vaguely accusatory. I turn back to the window, watching the rivulets on the glass, and think of my father. He used to say that fear was just a chemical, like caffeine or adrenaline, something you could burn off if you worked at it hard enough. He never let me see him afraid, even when he should have been, maybe especially then. I used to think that was his strength, but maybe it was just stubbornness.
I lose track of time watching the rain, only realizing I’ve been staring so long that Alora’s gone quiet. That’s never a good sign. I snap out of it, guilt prickling under my skin, and check on her. She’s still there, wide awake, but she’s just staring at me with her brow furrowed like she can read my mind somehow. I want to tell her it gets easier, but I know she doesn’t understand me, and I’m just spiraling and probably in need of an adult to talk to.
A sudden ray of sunshine splits the clouds, hitting the window so hard my eyes water. The rain doesn’t stop, not really, but the world looks a lot brighter, and it’s clear that the rain isbeginning to slow at least. I blink and realize my cheeks are wet. It takes a second to piece together that I’m crying, my damn emotions overwhelming me when I’m least expecting it.
My father hated it when I cried, even when I was small. Not because he didn’t care, but because it broke something in him to see it. He’d get this lost look, then tell me to run it off, as if misery could be outpaced by running laps around the house until my legs gave out. Maybe it worked for him, but my wolf is less about flight and more about standing her ground, digging in, refusing to let go of the thing that’s making her suffer, even if it ends up hurting us more in the long run.
I wipe my cheeks and look back at Alora, who’s now flailing in the bouncer with real drama, her face red and her fists flying. I know that mood. I wish I could tell her it’s okay to be angry about things you can’t control.
We have to get out of this house. We need fresh air.
Caleb’s text from this morning sits at the top of my phone, so clearly bossy that I can hear his tone shining through the words. “Can you keep Alora inside the town lines? Heard more chatter last night.” I bristled so much the first time I read it, because one, I’m not an idiot, and two, I’d never put her in danger. But I understand the real message: he’s worried, and that only makes me feel more worried. But I won’t cower in the house all day; Cheslem has taken enough from me.
