The beta wolf leaned against the bar, watching Wyatt with an expression that was uncomfortably perceptive.
“You going to sit there all night, or are you going home to your mate?”
Wyatt didn’t answer. Some things didn’t need saying out loud.
Beck pushed off from the bar. “Then we’re going to make sure she survives this.”
The certainty in his voice was absolute. Not hope. Not optimism. Just the simple, unwavering conviction of a pack protecting its own.
“We?”
“Haven Shores.” Beck’s gaze swept the empty brewery—the table where the alpha network had put defenses in place. “All of us. You’ve got her. You’ve got us. You don’t have to fight alone anymore.”
The words echoed what Narla had told him, what her friends had told her. Community. Pack. Family.
But sitting in this brewery, surrounded by the lingering presence of men who’d just pledged to fight beside him—for him, for Narla, for the community they’d all chosen—he felt something shift. Not weakness. Not vulnerability.
“Thank you.” The words came out stiff, unpracticed. “For everything. For?—”
“Don’t.” Beck’s grin was back. “Save the gratitude for after we’ve burned the bastard. Buy the first round at the victory celebration.”
Despite everything—despite the uncertainty, despite the fear he couldn’t quite shake—Wyatt felt his mouth curve.
“Deal.”
THIRTY-FOUR
WYATT
He drove home through empty streets, the town quiet around him. The cabin’s lights were on when he pulled into the driveway. Narla’s silhouette moved past the window—pacing, probably. Waiting for him the way she’d promised.
Warmth unfurled in his chest. He found her in the kitchen, tea in hand, Ember perched on the windowsill watching the tree line. She turned when he entered, and the relief in her expression hit him like a physical blow.
“How’d it go?”
“Defenses are ready.” He crossed to her, took the tea from her hands, and set it on the counter. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her close. “Wolves on perimeter. Lions on flanks. Bears protecting civilians. Dragons ready to burn.”
“And you?”
“I’ll be with you.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “Every step. Every moment. Wherever Derren is, that’s where we’ll be. Facing him down.”
Her breath caught. “Wyatt?—”
“Beck sends his regards.” The words came out quieter than he intended. His hands found her waist, pulling her close.
“I’m standing inourkitchen.” The correction slipped out before he could stop it. “This stopped being just mine the moment you started sleeping here.”
Her smile was slow. Radiant. Something bright and fierce that made his chest ache.
She kissed him. Deep and slow and thorough, her body pressing into his, her fingers threading through his hair.
“Take me to bed.” The words were murmured against his mouth. “Show me what that means. All of it.”
He lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he carried her toward the bedroom.
Derren could strike at any moment. They’d face a monster that had stolen everything from her. One way or another, this would end.
But tonight, he had her in his arms and hope blazing behind his ribs. It was enough.
