CHAPTER 7

CATRIONA

“What do you mean he’s at Gabriel’s house?” I asked slowly, like the words were foreign. Wrong. Misheard.

“I mean what I said,” Edrine replied. Calm. Too calm. “Abriel showed up about fifteen minutes ago. He’s safe. I was already at Gabriel’s place when he walked in—alone.”

Alone.

The word sucker-punched the air from my lungs.

“How?” I croaked. “How the hell did he even get there? Gabriel doesn’t live in this territory, Edrine. That’s two towns out—”

“I know,” he said. “That’s why I called.”

My throat tightened as I glanced up—Jayden was staring at me, unreadable. Godmother stood behind him, one hand pressed over her chest.

Lauren whispered, “What’s going on?”

I looked straight at Jayden as I spoke into the phone. “We’re coming to get him. Don’t let him out of your sight.”

Click.

I didn’t say goodbye. I just dropped the receiver.

Jayden’s voice was quiet, deadly: “He’s where?”

I swallowed hard. “He’s at Gabriel’s.”

I braced for the explosion. For yelling. For something to shatter.

But Jayden didn’t snap. He didn’t even blink hard.

He just moved.

“I’ll go get him,” he said flatly, brushing past me, his voice tight and unreadable.

I stepped after him, instinct taking over. “I’m coming too.”

He stopped at the door, turned halfway, and met my eyes with a steel-cold stare. “No. You stay. I’ll bring him back.”

“No.” I took another step, jaw clenched. “You are not going alone.”

A breath passed between us—too quiet, too sharp.

He didn’t argue again. Just turned and kept walking.

We moved through the foyer, past the confused stares of a few pack members still lingering. Outside, the air was sharp, the moon hidden behind thick clouds. Jayden opened the trunk of his car, reached in, and pulled out a shirt—black, worn, and clearly folded and stashed there for emergencies.

For when he shifted.

He tugged it on without a word and got in.

So did I.

The doors slammed shut like punctuation.

The silence inside the car was unbearable. Tighter than the air. Thicker than the fog on the windshield.

Jayden didn’t look at me once.

His jaw clenched, locked tight.

One hand gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white. His nails were pressing faint half-moons into the leather.

I didn’t say a word.

I didn’t dare.

Because if I did—if I asked anything, said anything—it would not end well.

The only sound was the hum of the tires as we left Red Moon territory, heading toward the borderlands that separated us from Gabriel’s pack.

But even in the silence, my thoughts were screaming.

How?

How did Abriel get there?

He couldn’t drive. He couldn’t shift. He was a child. A deaf child. How did he cover that kind of distance without help?

Or worse—with help.

I pressed both palms against my forehead, then dragged them into my hair and held tight, exhaling hard. My body shook from how badly I wanted to scream.

None of it made sense. None of it should be possible.

But it was.

And the closer we got to Gabriel’s house, the louder one question pounded in my skull:

What the hell is going on with my son?

---

The gates creaked open slowly, and Jayden drove straight through without waiting for permission.

Gabriel’s pack house stood ahead—quiet, dimly lit, and far too calm for what we were walking into.

Jayden didn’t knock. He shoved the front door open like it belonged to him, the sound echoing through the hallway as we stepped inside.

The house was nearly silent. No pack members. No guards. Just the muffled hum of voices from deeper inside.

We found them in the main room.

Edrine stood near the fireplace, arms folded, watching everything like a referee who didn’t want the job.

And on the sofa, in the center of it all, sat Gabriel.

Abriel was on his lap—curled up, holding tight to Mr. Patches, head nestled against Gabriel’s chest like he’d known him forever.

The moment we stepped in, Gabriel’s head lifted.

Our eyes locked.

Just for a second.

Just long enough to make my chest ache.

Then I looked away.

“Abriel,” I whispered, already moving forward, hand outstretched. “Come to mummy.”

He didn’t move.

He just gripped Gabriel tighter, little arms squeezing like he couldn’t bear to let go.

“Abriel,” I said again, firmer this time. “Stop being stubborn. Come. To. Mummy.”

I reached for him—but Gabriel raised one hand slowly and gently rested it on mine.

“Not like that,” he said, voice low. “You’re scaring him.”

My breath caught.

Jayden was already moving.

With one swift motion, he slapped Gabriel’s hand away, stepping in and yanking Abriel from his arms—not violently, but not gently either. Abriel gasped, clinging harder to Mr. Patches as Jayden pulled him free.

Then Jayden grabbed my wrist.

“We’re leaving.”

I stumbled behind him, barely finding my footing as he stormed back toward the front door with Abriel cradled against him and me in tow. But just before we stepped outside, Jayden stopped.

He turned his head slowly—shoulders squared, voice razor-sharp.

“I don’t want to see you near my family again.”

His eyes locked on Gabriel like daggers.

“Stay buried. Forever.”

Gabriel didn’t answer. He just sat there, hand raking through his hair like the weight of everything had finally crushed him.

Like he had no more words left to give.

Jayden walked out without another glance.

The cold air hit us as we reached the car. He yanked the back door open and turned to me, his voice low but commanding.

“Buckle him in.”

I nodded silently, opening the door on the other side. I adjusted Abriel in his seat, his small body trembling, his little hands clinging tighter to the bear. Silent tears streamed down his face, and I didn’t know what to say. Not to him. Not to Jayden. Not even to myself.

I buckled his straps, kissed the top of his head, then shut the door and climbed into the front seat. Clicked in my own belt.

Jayden started the car and drove.

The silence was brutal.

No music. No talking. Just the sound of tires, wind, and Abriel crying—quiet, muffled sobs in the back seat like he was trying not to be heard.

I kept my eyes out the window, face burning with shame, confusion, and something deeper. Something that hurt worse than all of it:

Helplessness.

I didn’t know how to fix this.

Not for Jayden.

Not for Abriel.

Not even for me.

By the time we pulled into the Red Moon compound again, the car was still thick with unsaid words. Abriel had cried himself to sleep, head tilted to the side, one hand still gripping Mr. Patches.

I reached to open my door, then moved to unbuckle him—ready to hold him, soothe him, tell him everything was okay, even if it wasn’t.

But Jayden caught my arm.

“I’ll carry my son.”

His voice was quiet.

Final.

And something about the way he said it made me let go.

The moment we stepped through the front doors of the pack house, we were met by a wall of silence and waiting eyes.

Nearly everyone was still awake.

Pack members stood scattered through the foyer, down the hall, leaning on the bannisters of the upper floors—waiting. Watching.

No one said a word.

Not until Jayden spoke.

“Everyone can turn in,” he said, voice firm, carrying authority that filled every corner of the house.

He didn’t stop moving.

With Abriel still asleep in his arms, he walked straight toward the elevator, not glancing at a single soul.

I snapped out of my daze and rushed forward, slipping inside the elevator just before the doors closed. He didn’t look at me, didn’t speak, but the air inside that small space was heavy with tension—unspoken, but loud enough to feel.

I watched him from the corner of my eye, his arms wrapped protectively around our son, his jaw still locked. And though I didn’t say it aloud, a small part of me ached at the sight.

This… this was the man I knew.

The one who would burn down the world for his child.

We reached the top floor.

The doors slid open and Jayden moved quickly, silently, down the hallway toward Abriel’s room. I stayed close behind, my heartbeat picking up with every step.

Inside the bedroom, the lights were dimmed, casting a soft amber glow across the walls. Jayden gently lowered Abriel onto the bed, brushing the curls back from his forehead as he adjusted the covers around his small shoulders.

He moved like a man walking through glass—careful, quiet, haunted.

I took a step forward. My voice came out small. “I’ll sleep with him tonight.”

Jayden’s movements paused. He stood fully, slowly turning toward me.

Our eyes locked.

And just for a second, I couldn’t breathe.

There was something in his gaze—heat, fury, exhaustion, maybe all of it tangled together. But it jolted my heart hard in my chest.

His voice was low. Steady. Final.

“No. We need to talk.”