Chapter Fourteen: New Blood and Old Wounds

I stepped out of the SUV, gravel crunching under my boots, when Cade came barrelling across the yard, his broad frame cutting through the afternoon haze, hazel eyes wild. My gut clenched—trouble?—but then a grin split his face, bright and raw. "Callie just went into labour!" he shouted, voice booming with panic and joy, dust kicking up around him.

I met him halfway, clapping his hand in a firm shake, my own smile tugging up despite the exhaustion dragging at me from the drive. "Congrats, man," I said, voice rough but warm.

He nodded, breathless, his grip tight with a gratitude I could feel. "We'll catch up about Midnight later—I've gotta get back to her." He flashed another grin, jogging off toward the pack house, boots pounding the dirt. I watched him go, the weight of the trip—Natalie's rose-scented taunts, Electra's tears, Liam's smirk—still heavy, but his news sliced through it like a shaft of sunlight. Cade had barely been seen around the pack house lately, glued to Callie's side as her belly grew, his temper a short fuse with the wait. Maybe now, with the baby here, he'd settle down.

I needed to move, to shake off the road's stiffness and Midnight's ghosts. The forest loomed beyond the pack house, its dark edge calling, and I didn't fight it. Stripping by the porch, I left my jeans and shirt in a messy heap, shifting fast into my dark green-eyed wolf, fur rippling dark grey against the breeze. I bolted, paws sinking into the damp earth, the wind threading through my coat, sharp with pine and freedom. I'd been off patrol since the Shane mess weeks back—after the fight, Dr. Ellis's sessions, Cade sidelining me to "cool off"—but these trails still felt like mine. No roster, just running for me, though old habits pulled me east, toward the traps I'd set before the ban. Might as well check them while I was out.

The forest hummed—birds chirping, leaves rustling—but no rogue stench or blood soured the air. I slowed near the first trap, a steel jaw buried under moss, chain taut and empty. The next, a snare by the creek, hung undisturbed, wire glinting in the weak sunlight. Hours slipped by as I looped the border, the sun climbing, its rays slanting through the canopy. Not my job anymore, but it felt good—useful—like I was still holding the line, even with Cade's leash on me.

A flicker ahead snapped me alert. I crept closer, belly low, claws silent on the moss. Diana stepped from the trees, dark hair tangled, brown eyes darting as she crossed the border. I tensed, ready to growl—pregnant or not, she shouldn't be here—until she fell into someone's arms, hers wrapping tight around them. Shane. My hackles spiked, anger flaring hot and fast. What the hell was she doing with him?

"Shane, how are you out here?" Diana's voice was soft, submissive, her head dipping low.

He smiled, small and crooked, running a hand along her cheek, light brown hair catching the light. "Found a small pack a couple hours away that took me in. It's not much, but I want you to come with me." His blue eyes glinted, possessive, a edge to his tone.

They weren't fated—just ceremony-bonded, a choice some wolves made when love hit and the Moon Goddess didn't step up. Strong, sure, but brittle—breakable when the shine wore off. I'd seen it unravel before.

"I don't know if I can," Diana murmured, voice cracking. "The baby...""The baby's mine," Shane cut in, sharp, anger flashing in his eyes. "We should be a family."

She shifted, boots scuffing the dirt, head hanging. "I want to, but we need to think of the baby." He pulled her into a hug, her shoulders slumping against him.

"I know," he said, softer, pausing. "I'll be back next week, same time. See you then." He kissed her forehead, a tender move that twisted my gut, then turned and melted into the trees.

"Goodbye," Diana whispered, small and sad, watching him go before trudging back toward pack lands. I stayed crouched, the scene looping—her doubt, his push. Anger simmered, bitter on my tongue. I'd fought Shane, banished him for her, taken hits and bled, and now she was sneaking out to him like it was nothing. It stung, but I choked it down. Her choice—if she wanted to chase that jerk, I wouldn't drag her back. Not my fight anymore.

I loped back to the pack house, the afternoon sun dipping, shadows stretching long. Shifting by the porch, I grabbed my clothes—jeans stiff with dust, shirt wrinkled—and dressed, the fabric cool against my sweat-slick skin. Hunger gnawed, sharper after the run, and I headed for the dining room. Not dinner yet, but the kitchen always had scraps out. Inside, the long oak table sat empty except for Electra, light brown hair loose, green eyes fixed on a plate of untouched bread. She looked up as I entered, a faint smile curving her lips.

I piled a plate—roast chicken, mashed potatoes, a slab of cornbread—and slid into the seat across from her. "Hey," I said, casual, digging in, the savoury heat hitting my tongue.

"Hey," she replied, grin widening. "I don't think the baby's far off now—Cade hasn't left Callie's side in an hour, and he's barely been around lately with her so close." Her voice bubbled, excitement spilling out, her smile catching.

I nodded, swallowing a bite. "Happy for them. Maybe with the baby here, Cade's temper will settle down." A beat passed, my fork clinking. "Boy or girl, you think?"

She leaned back, tapping her chin, brow furrowing in mock thought. "Boy. They don't care either way, but I bet Cade's secretly hoping." Her eyes sparkled, teasing.

I leaned back, arms crossing, chair creaking. "Our future alpha." The words hung, heavy with a future I could see, a tiny Cade, leading someday. Silence fell, her smile softening, my mind drifting to the mate I hadn't found.

Her gaze sharpened, cutting through. "Listen, about last night—"

I cut her off, voice low. "Don't worry, I won't tell Cade." My promise from the forest held—I'd bury Liam's crap.

She shook her head, hair swaying. "No, it's not that. Just... thank you. I knew he'd been drinking, but I went with him anyway." Her cheeks flushed, a faint pink against her pale skin.

"You're welcome," I said, pausing, then blurted, "How do you know him?"

She smiled, shy now. "Training school. He was there a year—we got close, made out a few times. Nothing big." Her blush deepened, but her tone stayed light.

Before I could answer, Cade burst in, grin blinding, hazel eyes blazing. "It's a boy!" he yelled, voice bouncing off the walls. "Come meet Blake, you two!" He waved us up, already half out the door.

Electra bolted ahead, her laugh trailing, and I followed, boots thudding on the hardwood. The pack house buzzed, wolves poking heads out as we passed, the news spreading fast. The medical wing hit me with antiseptic and sage, a sharp tang over the usual pine-and-smoke. Cade led us through double doors into a small room, white sheets stark against wood walls. Callie sat propped up, chestnut hair damp, soft brown eyes tired but glowing. In her arms, Blake squirmed, face scrunched, a tuft of dark hair peeking out.

"Congrats," I muttered, nodding to Callie as Electra echoed me, brighter. Callie smiled, weary but warm.

"Want to hold him?" she asked, glancing at Electra, who nodded fast. She scooped Blake up, cradling him close, green eyes softening as she gazed down, a tender glow radiating. I watched, a pang hitting—not jealousy, but a quiet ache for a mate, a kid, something the Moon Goddess hadn't dealt me yet.

Cade clapped my shoulder, grin still plastered. "Good trip?"

"Yeah," I lied, Midnight flashing—Natalie's smirk, Liam's hands, Amelia's jab. "We'll talk later." He nodded, oblivious, eyes back on Callie and Blake.

Electra handed Blake back, her smile lingering, and we slipped out, the hall quiet after the room's warmth. "He's perfect," she said, soft, glancing at me as we walked.

"Yeah," I agreed, hands in my pockets. "Future alpha's got a good start." We hit the dining room, my plate cold. I sat, picking at it, her thanks from earlier echoing. Time to clear the air.

"Electra," I started, voice low, "about the other night—Amelia, in the tent—I'm sorry you saw that." Rough, unpolished, but real.

She blinked, surprised, then waved it off. "It's fine, Kyan. I wasn't... it's not my business." Her smile was small, forgiving, a flicker of relief in her eyes.

I nodded, a knot loosening. "Just didn't want you blindsided." She shrugged, grabbing her bread, and we ate in easy silence, the pack house humming with Blake's arrival. His birth, Diana's choice, Electra's trust—it swirled, duty mixing with something deeper I couldn't pin. The ache for a mate lingered, quieter now, overshadowed by the kid upstairs and the wolf across from me, less a burden, more a tether I wasn't ready to name.