Chapter 5: The Cabin

I pulled away from Weston and crossed my arms over my chest.

"You should go."

"Go where?"

"Home. Away from me. Anywhere that is not standing next to the most disgraced wolf in Evermont."

He blinked at me like I had just spoken in a foreign language. "Serena, are you serious right now?"

"I am completely serious." I took a step backward, putting distance between us. "Your father and my father are allies. If Harrison Calloway finds out his son is running around in the middle of the night looking for an exile, it will cause problems for your entire family. I will not be responsible for that."

"You are not responsible for anything except standing in a park at midnight with blood on your forehead and no coat." He shrugged off his jacket and held it out. "Put this on."

"I do not want your jacket."

"You are shivering."

"I am fine."

"You are bleeding and shivering and sitting on a bench in the dark with no phone and no wallet. That is the opposite of fine, Serena."

I opened my mouth to argue, but nothing came out. Because he was right. I had nowhere to go. I had nothing. The reality of it settled over me like a wet blanket, heavy and suffocating.

Weston watched the fight drain out of my face and took a slow step closer, draping the jacket over my shoulders without waiting for permission.

"I have a place," he said quietly. "A cabin. Out past the ridge, about two hours from here. I bought it a few years ago with the idea that maybe someday I would settle down there with a mate. Grow old somewhere quiet." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost embarrassed. "Nobody knows about it. Not my father. Not my pack. It is completely off the grid."

"Weston, I cannot take your house."

"It is not a house. It is a cabin. There is a difference."

"The difference does not matter. I cannot accept that kind of help from you. Not now. Not after everything."

"After everything what? After your father kicked you out for keeping your baby? After you chose to do the right thing and got punished for it?" His voice hardened, just a fraction. "Serena, I have known you since we were six years old. I watched you beat up a kid twice your size because he pulled Lillian's hair. You think I am going to walk away from you now because things got hard?"

My throat closed up. I looked at the ground because I could not look at his face without crying again.

"Let me drive you there. Stay as long as you need. I will check on you when I can and bring supplies. Nobody will find you."

"And if your father finds out?"

"He will not."

"But if he does?"

"Then I will deal with it. That is my problem, not yours."

I stood there in the cold with his jacket warm on my shoulders and the taste of salt on my lips. I had lost my family, my title, my home, my future. I had nothing left except the baby growing inside me and the stubborn, impossible loyalty of a boy I had known my whole life.

"Okay," I whispered. "Okay. Just for a little while."

He nodded once, then put his hand on the small of my back and guided me toward his car.

The cabin was small and quiet, tucked into a grove of pines at the end of a dirt road that seemed to go nowhere. It smelled like wood smoke and pine needles, and the silence was so complete it felt like a living thing. I stood in the doorway with my arms wrapped around myself and felt the tension in my body begin to loosen for the first time in weeks.

Weston made the drive every few days. Sometimes he brought groceries. Sometimes he brought books. Once he brought a secondhand sweater that was three sizes too big, claiming it was the only one the store had. I wore it every day.

Then one morning, the doorbell rang.

I had barely turned the handle when the door flew open and a body slammed into mine so hard I stumbled backward. Arms locked around me. A face buried itself in my neck. And the sound of sobbing filled the quiet cabin like a flood breaking through a dam.

"Lillian." I wrapped my arms around my little sister and held on. "Lillian, it is okay. I am here."

"You are so thin!" She pulled back and grabbed my face with both hands, examining me with tear filled eyes. "Look at you! Your cheeks are hollow! What have you been eating? Have you been eating at all?"

"Hey!" Weston appeared in the doorway behind her, looking offended. "I have been bringing her food every three days. Good food. Protein, vegetables, everything."

Lillian spun around and kicked him in the shin without a moment's hesitation.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"For letting my sister get this thin! What kind of caretaker are you?"

"The kind who drives four hours round trip every three days while lying to his entire family about where he is going! You are welcome, by the way!"

"You are supposed to be feeding her, not patting yourself on the back for showing up!"

"I brought her a roast chicken yesterday! A whole chicken, Lillian! With mashed potatoes and gravy!"

"Then where did the chicken go? Because it certainly did not go into her body!"

I put a hand on each of their shoulders. "Come inside. Both of you. I will make tea."

They followed me in, still glaring at each other. Lillian held my arm the entire way to the kitchen, refusing to let go even when I reached for the kettle. She sat at the small wooden table and pulled me down beside her, pressing close like she was afraid I would vanish.

"Dad put guards on my door." Her voice cracked. "Real guards. Two of them. Rotating shifts. He told the pack I was sick. He would not let anyone visit me, not even the elders' daughters. I had to bribe Marcus's son with my entire jewelry box just to get a phone."

"Lillian, you should not have risked coming here."

"Do not tell me what I should not have done." Her eyes flashed with the Ashford temper. "You are my sister. You chose exile over killing your baby. And Dad chose pride over his own daughter. I know exactly who I am angry at, and it is not you."

The gentleness I had been growing into over the past weeks softened my heart even further. I reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Are you really going through with this?" she asked, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "The pregnancy. The baby. All of it."

I nodded. "Yes."

"Even knowing what it means? The inferior wolf brand? The exile? Everything?"

"Even knowing all of that."

"Why, Serena? I need to understand why."

I placed my hand on my stomach, where the smallest, most fragile swell had begun to form beneath my shirt. "Because the Moon Goddess gave me this life. And no matter how it happened, no matter how much it has cost me, I will not be the one who takes it away. I refuse to carry that cruelty. I refuse to betray what I believe just because the world says I should."

Lillian stared at me for a long, trembling moment. Then she pressed her forehead against my shoulder and cried quietly, and I held her and stroked her hair, and for the first time since my father turned his back, I felt like maybe I was not completely alone.

Weston stood in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, watching us with something soft in his eyes that he would deny if anyone ever mentioned it.

"The tea is getting cold," he muttered, looking away.

"Then make more," Lillian shot back without lifting her head from my shoulder.

"I already made two pots. There is a limit to my hospitality."

"Your hospitality has no limit when it comes to my sister. That is the deal."

"I do not remember agreeing to any deal."

"You agreed the moment you showed up at that park. You are stuck with us now, Weston Calloway. Both of us."

He opened his mouth, closed it, and shook his head with a reluctant half smile. "Fine. I will make more tea."

Lillian lifted her head just long enough to throw a wadded up napkin at his face.