The Flame They Raised

The Beta house was still dim with early morning light when Lexara entered the kitchen. Her mother was already there. A pot of something warm simmered on the stove, and her mother’s hands moved slowly — not because she was tired, but because she was thinking. Deeply.

Lexara paused in the doorway. Tried to pretend this wasn’t harder than facing down an Alpha. Tried to pretend her mother didn’t already know that.

“You packed light,” her mother said without turning.

Lexara exhaled a soft laugh. “Didn’t know how long I’d be staying.”

Heather Veyne — their mother — stirred the pot once more before setting the spoon aside and wiping her hands. When she turned, her eyes were sharper than Lexara had braced for. Not angry. Not wet with tears. Just full of the kind of knowing that made you feel seen all the way to your bones.

“Seraphine’s a wise wolf,” her mother said gently. “And she’ll treat you with the care you deserve.” A pause. Then she added: “But that Alaric… he’s a wildfire waiting to find dry timber.”

Lexara blinked. “Mom.”

Her mother arched a brow, unconcerned. “He’s bold. Smart. And that kiss on your wrist? The whole house can smell it.”

Lexara’s face flushed hot. “You knew?”

“Of course I knew.” She tilted her head, folding her arms. “He’s not the only Alpha who’s noticed you’re unclaimed.”

Lexara’s shoulders tightened. “I’m not a prize, Mom.”

“No. You’re the fire they all want to hold without getting burned. And most of them don’t realize it’s never been about whether you’d choose them… It’s whether they’re strong enough to survive choosing you.”

From the hallway behind them, a floorboard creaked. Lexara didn’t turn, but her ears twitched. More footsteps. The hush of voices behind the door.

She narrowed her eyes. “You told them, didn’t you?”

Her mother only smiled. “Of course. You think I was going to let your brothers and their mates leave without hearing that? They’ve protected you for so long, they never learned how to let you go. But I did.”

Lexara’s throat tightened.

Her mother stepped forward and gently cupped her face. “This pack wouldn’t be what it is without you, Lex. But it won’t grow until they feel the absence of your fire. So go. And when the world finally wakes up to who you are…” She kissed her forehead. “…don’t apologize for the burn.”

Lexara stepped into the sitting room and stopped short. Vanessa. Bella. Esme.

All waiting. All watching. Each perched in her own corner of the room like silent guardians… or wolves in the middle of holding back a growl.

Lexara narrowed her eyes. “How long were you listening?”

Bella: “Long enough.”

Esme: “Long enough to hear the word kiss.”

Vanessa smirked. “He’s lucky it was just a kiss. If he’d tried to scent-mark you again—”

“Vanessa.”

“What? We’d have mauled him. Politely.”

Lexara sat heavily on the armrest near Bella. “You know I’m not a child.”

“We know,” Bella said softly. “But that doesn’t mean we trust every Alpha who looks at you like they want to stake a claim.”

Esme crossed one leg over the other, voice dry. “Especially not ones who aren’t afraid of your fire. The ones who fear it? They avoid you. We like them. The ones who want to use it? We worry.”

Vanessa leaned forward, expression serious now. “We’re not your mothers. But we’re mated. We know how power plays out. And you’re about to walk into territory where wolves have been waiting for you to slip away from Blackridge just long enough to try something.”

Lexara’s voice was flat. “I can handle myself.”

“We know,” Bella said again. “We’re not warning you for your sake. We’re warning them for theirs.”

The brothers didn’t show up all at once. They trickled into the courtyard as the sun climbed higher. Kael, Rurik, Bran, and Dain — each silent at first, each carrying something small and personal for her journey.

Kael handed her a blade. Simple. Balanced. Forged by his own hands. “It doesn’t matter what they call themselves—Alpha, warrior, diplomat. If they try to touch you without your consent, this’ll make sure they bleed for it.”

Rurik dropped a small, carved pendant into her palm. “Wear it under your shirt. If I don’t hear from you in a week, I’ll track it. And I’ll come.”

Bran offered a weatherproof journal — the same kind he carried on every border run. “Write it down. Whatever happens. Every name. Every Alpha. Every deal offered. Because if I have to come after someone, I want receipts.”

Dain, last, didn’t give her anything. He just folded her into a hug. Longer than the others. “You’re not alone, Lex. No matter how far you go. You never have been.”

As they pulled back, Lexara finally spoke, voice hoarse. “You always acted like I was the one who needed protecting. But I think maybe you needed to protect me just to keep yourselves from falling apart.”

Rurik smiled crookedly. “Maybe. But we like being useful. So let us.”