MasukJACEI don’t even know why I’m thinking about this, but... yeah, I’ve always been the guy who watches.Not complaining. Swear. It’s not some sad backstory thing. Just how I’m put together. Some people charge straight into the middle of everything, all bright and loud. Me? I hang back half a step. Walk into any room and I’m already clocking the exits—not ’cause I’m scared or planning to bail, but because it shifts how the whole space sits in my head. I catch stuff coming three beats before the rest of them, and then I’m stuck deciding if I should say it out loud or just let it play.This time I did say something. Took me a minute, but I did. That’s pretty much how my better moves happen anyway.Watching’s never bugged me much, though. When you’re on the outside looking in, you actually see shit clearly. Most people are too deep in the moment, too busy living it, to notice what’s really going on.I’d been watching Asher for twenty years. Straight up. And Sierra... man, only eight months
AsherThe paperwork took eleven days.Jace did most of it. Made sense. He built the fake stuff from the beginning, so he knew exactly how to pull it apart without leaving anything hanging. Three filings, two offices, one careful letter to the enrollment office at the university, and this twelve-minute phone call with Harlen that Jace listened in on. Harlen wrapped it up with, “Get it to me by Friday,” in that voice that said he’d smelled something off since March but figured it wasn’t worth bothering about.I asked to be the one who actually talked to Harlen.Not the full story, obviously. No palace, no poison, none of that. Just that the names we’d been using weren’t ours, we’d needed cover for a while, the mess was over now, and we wanted to play hockey with our real names on the roster.He didn’t interrupt.When I finished he went quiet for a second.“You’re still Rayce to me,” he said. “Twenty years coaching and I’ve never figured out how to switch a guy back once I’ve been yellin
Sierra.The message popped up on a Tuesday, late April.Not through any of Jace’s usual channels or the council stuff we’d been watching. Straight to my phone, from some burner number down south. Four words, that’s all.*I’d like to meet.*I slid the phone over to Jace. He stared at it for a good long minute.“Sebastian,” he said.“Yeah.”“Direct to your personal line.”“Yeah.”He set it down like it might bite him. “He’s skipping the whole legal song and dance.”“He’s been dragging his feet on that for six weeks,” I said. “This is him trying something else.”“What’s he after?”“No clue yet.” I picked the phone back up. “But asking for a face-to-face instead of filing more paperwork? Means he thinks he’s got a better card to play.”Jace gave me that steady look. “Or he figures he can lean on you in person, the kind of pressure that doesn’t leave a paper trail.”“That too.”---I told Sierra that night.She was curled up in the chair in our little living room, nose in some book for the
SierraMy mom took one look at Edric Vane and decided she liked him. Like, right away. Twenty minutes tops. Then she spent the rest of the weekend making damn sure he knew it.I say “decided” because with her, nothing just happens by accident. She’s got this warm way about her—she really does like people—but she can point it like a damn laser when she wants to. She zeroed in on him as someone worth her full effort, and she gave it. By Sunday morning this guy who’d spent thirty years brushing off charm was sitting in his own kitchen at nine o’clock, talking about kitchen gardens like he was actually into it. And smiling. Really smiling.Dad watched from across the room with that face he makes. The one that says he’s seen her do this a hundred times and it still gets him.---They showed up on Saturday. A proper visit this time, not the quick in-and-out from the council weekend. Two full nights. Time to actually be there instead of just rushing through.Mom brought food, obviously. That
SIERRA---Asher told me once, early on, that the pack wasn’t some show he put on.He said it almost like he was ready for me to argue, bracing himself. The hierarchy wasn’t about looking important, he explained. It was about actually handling things. His place in it came down to responsibility, not status. From the outside it probably looked one way, but inside it felt completely different. I nodded and figured I understood.Then I saw him walk into the spring assembly and realized I didn’t have a clue.---Edric wanted us up there the second weekend in April.The message didn’t sound urgent. No emergency tone, no hidden stress. Just the usual quarterly gathering, Asher said when he mentioned it. The pack gets together to sort out pack stuff—arguments that need settling, decisions that need making, all the everyday things that keep a group like theirs running on old ties, habits, and sometimes someone who can sit at the head of the table and actually decide.“What do you need me to d
SIERRAA month later---Spring came in swinging again, same old story in this city. One warm week everyone’s peeling off jackets and grinning at random people, then bam—three cold days that make you scramble for your coat. Sun pops out for a minute, gets you hopeful, then rain rolls in and kills the vibe completely. Campus turned all jittery and loud. Kids tossing jackets aside too early, dragging tables out in front of coffee shops like the owners had magically decided it was patio season. They definitely weren’t.I kinda liked the chaos though.After that rough winter we barely made it through, spring felt bigger this time. The light in the apartment window slanted different. That heavy wet-dirt smell after the first real rain stuck in the air. Even the grass looked like it finally remembered it was supposed to grow. I’d wasted too many months in those fancy empty palace hallways and didn’t know I’d missed plain regular life until one random Tuesday I was standing at the kitchen wi
Sierra. It was a different feeling in the courthouse this morning. As we passed through the doors every step reverberated a warning sound that followed us. The entrance was once more lined with cameras but nobody yelled this time. Instead they kept a close eye on the story watching to see how it
SierraWe didn't wait for Sebastian to come back.Asher half-carried me to the truck while Dad and Jace covered us, guns pointed at the tree line. Mom was leading Rebecca with one hand, the other already dialing her phone. Evan brought up the rear, his face pale but determined.My hands kept trembl
Sierra We were at the courtroom, everyone was watching Sebastian’s face changed. I glanced in disbelief for a moment. He was not prepared for that. He had always believed that terror, aggression, and dominance would arise.The judge leaned forward as she took notes, her eyes moving between us an
Sierra I woke up to the soft drone of the packhouse, the gentle stir of life outdoors at my window. The house was alive, though muted.I heard someone in the kitchen, the gentle rasp of a spoon on a bowl. Someone was patrolling the perimeter. Asher and I, seated now at the same table and without







