LOGINAVERY
The first sign was heat. It bloomed low in my stomach, sudden and sharp, curling inward like something had been touched without permission. I froze mid-movement, fingers tightening around the vial I’d been cataloging. ‘That’s not Rowan,’ Lila said instantly, hackles rising. ‘That’s wrong.’ I swallowed and forced my breathing to steady. The pack clinic was busy around me, wolves moving quietly through their routines, the rhythm of work familiar and grounding. I focused on the shelf in front of me, on the neat rows of labeled vials, on the scent of antiseptic and herbs. Then the voice slid into my mind. ‘Is it true?’ Cade. The sound of him there made my skin crawl. ‘Get out,’ Lila snarled, surging forward. ‘Not yet,’ I replied grimly. ‘I need to end it cleanly.’ I turned slightly, putting my back to the wall as if that would help. It didn’t. ‘You’re pregnant,’ Cade said, the mental connection sharp and invasive. ‘Answer me.’ I closed my eyes for half a second. ‘Yes,’ I replied. The pause that followed stretched long and deliberate. I could feel him processing, could almost picture the way his mouth would curl as he decided which version of himself to be. Then he laughed. ‘Good.’ The word echoed unpleasantly in my skull. ‘Good?’ I repeated. ‘Means I don’t have to deal with it,’ he said easily. ‘I was worried you’d try to use it to drag me back. But if you’re already gone, that’s convenient.’ Lila’s fury burned hot. ‘He rejects the pup.’ ‘I hear him.’ ‘You hear everything,’ Cade continued, casual and cruel. ‘I don’t want it. I never wanted that future. So don’t bring it to my pack. Don’t bring it to me.’ Something inside me settled cold and steady. Not heartbreak. Resolve. ‘You don’t get a say,’ I told him. ‘You lost that when you rejected me.’ He scoffed. ‘I rejected you, Avery. Not the bond. Don’t rewrite history.’ ‘You rejected both,’ I said flatly. ‘And we’re done.’ The silence that followed was sharp with anger. ‘You think you’re safe because you ran?’ he demanded. ‘You think some other alpha will protect you?’ The air around me shifted. Lila went utterly still. ‘He’s near,’ she warned. ‘The other one.’ I opened my eyes. Rowan stood near the entrance to the clinic, speaking quietly with Ilyra. His posture was relaxed, but his attention had shifted, sharpening with unmistakable focus. I could feel him now, a steady awareness brushing the edges of my senses, unfamiliar but grounding. ‘You’re dismissed,’ I told Cade. ‘Do not contact me again.’ ‘You don’t get to—’ I severed the link. The backlash snapped through me like static, sharp but brief. Clean. I sagged slightly against the wall, breathing through the lingering echo. ‘He’s gone,’ Lila said, fierce satisfaction in her tone. ‘If he reaches again, I will bite.’ A shadow fell across me. “You should sit,” Rowan said calmly. It wasn’t a question. “I’m fine,” I said automatically. His gaze held mine, sharp and intent. Alpha-focused. Not angry. Alert. “You just experienced an external link,” he said. “Didn’t you.” Heat crept up my neck as I nodded once. “Who,” he asked, voice even. “My former mate,” I said. “Cade.” Something dark flickered behind his eyes. Ash stirred, a low, dangerous presence pressing against my awareness. “And he confirmed,” Rowan continued carefully, “that the child is his.” “Yes.” Silence stretched between us, heavy and electric. Rowan inhaled slowly, his control a palpable thing. “If he attempts contact again, you tell me immediately.” It wasn’t a threat. It was a promise. “I can handle him,” I said, even as my pulse raced. “I know,” Rowan replied. “That doesn’t mean you should have to.” The words settled deep, loosening something tight in my chest. He stepped back, giving me space without withdrawing completely. “Take the rest of the afternoon.” “I don’t need—” “That’s not a request,” he said gently. Lila exhaled, something like relief curling through her. ‘He would tear Cade apart.’ ‘And he’s choosing not to,’ I answered. ‘For now.’ As Rowan turned away, the strange pull in my chest tightened again, sharper than before. Cade was gone. Whatever link had once bound us was severed for good. And in the quiet that followed, something new and dangerous began to wake.ROWAN I didn’t trust agreements that came too easily. Kael’s proposal had been clean on the surface. No demands for territory. No pressure for immediate action. Everything laid out like a courtesy, cooperation dressed as practicality. The kind of thing lesser alphas accepted because it looked reasonable and because refusing it would make them seem paranoid. I had learned long ago that reasonable was often just another word for patient. Ash was restless as I sat at the long table in the council room, parchment spread before me, ink untouched. He paced beneath my skin, not agitated, but alert in the way that meant he was watching for a trap that hadn’t sprung yet. ‘He is orderly,’ Ash said. ‘Too orderly.’ ‘I know,’ I replied silently. ‘That makes him dangerous.’ The elders filtered in one by one, Ilyra last, her gaze sharp as she took in the documents already prepared. Avery sat
AVERY I woke to the shift before the sound. Not Ember, she was now sleeping through the night more often than not, tucked safely in her own nursery down the hall, her presence a soft, steady warmth at the back of my awareness instead of the sharp, constant vigilance of those first weeks. This was different. Sharper. Like the air itself had pulled tight. Rowan was already sitting up beside me, muscles rigid, eyes unfocused in the way that meant his attention had turned inward. He hadn’t made a sound, but his breathing had changed, deeper, more controlled, like he was bracing against something. “Rowan,” I murmured. His jaw tightened. A heartbeat passed, then another, before his focus snapped back to the room. “Beta just linked me,” he said quietly. That alone sent a ripple of unease through me. Linking at this hour meant urgency, not inconvenience. “What’s wrong,” I asked, pushing myself upright, sheets pooling around my waist. “There’s an alpha at the eastern boundary
ROWANFour months had changed the shape of our days.Not the center, that held firm, but the rhythm. Ember had opinions now, loud ones, and a laugh that felt like a reward every time we earned it. Avery moved through the pack with an ease that still caught me off guard sometimes, Luna in truth rather than title, mother and anchor both. And somehow, between patrol rotations and integration meetings and the constant, low hum of responsibility, we had found our way back to each other.Not stolen moments anymore.Chosen ones.That night, the packhouse had settled early. Ember had finally surrendered to sleep after a long evening of stubborn wakefulness, her small body warm and heavy in Avery’s arms before being eased gently into her crib. I closed the door quietly and turned back to find Avery leaning against the wall, watching me with an expression that made my pulse shift immediately.“You’re thinking loudly,” she said.“I
AVERY Ember was four months old, and already deeply unimpressed by wedding planning.She lay on her stomach on the blanket near the window, fists clenched beneath her shoulders, dark eyes tracking everything with intense suspicion. Every few minutes she kicked hard enough to scoot herself forward an inch, then froze, like she was offended by her own progress.“You’re not invited to make decisions,” I told her gently. “You’re here for moral support.”She answered by grunting and shoving her face into the blanket.Lila stirred, amused.‘She has opinions.’Of course she did.The packhouse felt different lately. Not tense, not celebratory, just busy in a quiet, intentional way. Integration schedules were posted. Wolves moved in pairs that would have looked strange months ago and now felt normal. Emberfall was stretching, not straining.And somehow, in the middle of all that, we were planning a wedding.
ROWAN The first real test of the integration did not come with violence.It came with a sixteen year old boy who shifted for the first time at dawn and did not know where to stand afterward.I felt it ripple through Emberfall before anyone came to find me. That sharp, uneven surge of new wolf energy, raw and untrained, the kind that made older wolves lift their heads without meaning to. Ash stirred immediately, awareness snapping into focus.‘New wolf,’ he said. ‘Unsteady.’‘I know,’ I answered.By the time I reached the lower clearing, the boy stood barefoot in the dirt, chest heaving, skin flushed and eyes wide with the aftermath of his first shift. His clothes lay abandoned behind him. His wolf had already retreated, leaving him exposed in a way that had nothing to do with nudity and everything to do with suddenly being seen.Stoneveil.The scent clung to him, faint but unmistakable.A small group o
AVERY Time didn’t move the way I expected it to after that.It didn’t rush forward in milestones or stall out in fragile pauses. Instead, it widened, stretched itself thin enough to hold everything at once. Days layered gently, feeding schedules and patrol rotations and quiet conversations stacking without crushing each other. Somewhere between Ember’s third nap of the day and a late afternoon walk through the grounds, I realized something that stopped me cold.I wasn’t bracing anymore.Ember lay on a thick blanket near the hearth, arms flung wide like she had already claimed the space by right. Her eyes were open, dark and unblinking, tracking movement with a seriousness that felt far too aware for someone who still startled at her own fingers. She made a small sound of offense when the light shifted across her face.Rowan adjusted the curtain immediately, not even looking at me.“You’re training her well,” I murmured.







