Chapter Forty Eight.

The morning light filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the nest. I shift slightly, warm bodies pressing against mine—Micah is curled against my chest, Callum draped over his back, both of them lost in sleep. The steady rise and fall of their breathing is comforting, grounding.

It’s the most peaceful Callum has looked in weeks. His grip on Micah is loose but present, his expression calm. There’s no tension in his shoulders, no restless tossing and turning. Just him, here, with us.

I brush a hand over Micah’s back, tracing idle patterns on his skin. He hums in his sleep, pressing closer, and a small smile tugs at my lips.

I don’t want to move.

But my stomach growls in protest, and I know if I don’t get up soon, one of the Alphas will come looking for us. Carefully, I untangle myself and slip from the nest, grabbing one of Theo’s oversized shirts from the floor to cover myself.

As I pad into the kitchen, the scent of coffee already brewing greets me. Elias is leaning against the counter, scrolling through something on his phone, a deep crease in his brow. His hair is still damp from a shower, and he’s dressed casually for once—sweatpants and a worn hoodie instead of his usual pressed button-ups.

“Morning,” I mumble, yawning as I reach for a mug.

He glances up, expression softening. “Morning. How’s Callum?”

I hesitate for a second, pouring my coffee before answering. “Better. I mean… last night helped. He seemed lighter.”

Elias exhales, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “That’s good.” But there’s something unspoken in his tone, something he isn’t saying.

I sip my coffee and watch him carefully. “You’re still worried.”

“Of course, I am.” He sets his phone down and crosses his arms. “He’s… trying. I can see that. But it’s not just the attack haunting him.” His jaw tightens, and for a second, I swear he’s about to say more, but then he shakes his head. “Never mind.”

I narrow my eyes. “Elias—”

A door creaks behind us, and I turn to see Callum standing in the hallway. His hair is still sleep-mussed, his shirt hanging loosely off one shoulder, but there’s an alertness in his gaze that wasn’t there before.

“I want to go out today,” he says, voice steady.

Elias and I exchange a glance.

“You sure?” I ask carefully.

Callum nods. “I need to try.”

The town is busy, the usual morning rush filling the streets. Callum walks between Micah and me, Elias behind us. Callums shoulders are a little stiff, but he doesn’t shy away from the people passing by.

It’s the first time he’s really left the pack house since the attack.

I glance at him every so often, watching for signs of discomfort, but he seems… okay. Not entirely at ease, but not panicking either. It’s a step forward, and that’s enough.

Until it isn’t.

We’re at the café, waiting for our drinks, when it happens.

A voice from behind us—deep, familiar in a way that makes Callum freeze.

I don’t recognize it, but it seems to garner a response. Not a good one.

His entire body locks up, his breathing turns shallow, and his fingers dig into my wrist.

“Callum?” Micah asks, voice laced with concern.

Callum doesn’t respond. His eyes are distant, unfocused, like he’s somewhere else entirely. A cold sweat breaks out across his skin, and I realize—

He’s back there.

I react instantly, stepping in front of him, pressing a grounding hand against his chest. “Hey. Callum. Look at me.”

Nothing. His breathing is too fast, his muscles too tense.

Micah’s hand joins mine, gentle but firm. “You’re safe,” he whispers. “We’re here. Come back to us.”

Elias growls at the unknown Alpha and he backs off, hands up. Presumably innocent.

It takes another few seconds, but finally, finally, Callum’s eyes clear. His breath shudders out of him, and he grips my arms like they’re the only thing keeping him upright.

“We should go,” I say softly, and he nods, still shaken.

Micah wraps an arm around him as we guide him back toward the car.

Back at home, Callum paces the living room, frustration rolling off him in waves.

“I thought I was fine,” he mutters, hands clenched into fists. “I felt fine. And then—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head. “It’s like I’m right back where I started.”

“You’re not,” Elias says firmly from the doorway. “You had a moment. That doesn’t erase the progress you’ve made.”

Callum laughs bitterly. “Progress? I couldn’t even handle being in town.”

“The first time was never going to be easy,” Theo says, stepping into the room. His expression is serious, but his voice is gentle. “You’re healing, Callum. And healing isn’t a straight line.”

Callum swallows hard, shoulders sagging.

I step forward, reaching for his hand. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

Micah nods, voice soft. “We’ll get through it together.”

Callum’s fingers tighten around mine. For the first time all day, he looks less like a man drowning and more like someone who’s willing to fight his way back to shore.

He exhales shakily. “I don’t want to be afraid anymore.”

I squeeze his hand. “Then we’ll fight it together.”

That night, Callum doesn’t retreat into himself.

Instead, he stays close.

We curl up in the nest, the warmth of our bodies pressing together, a silent reassurance that no one has to face their demons alone. Theo and Elias are still downstairs, talking in hushed voices, but I can feel their presence through the bond—steady, protective, always watching over us.

Callum is quiet, but not in the way he’s been for weeks. This quiet isn’t hollow. It’s thoughtful. Heavy, but not crushing. He’s still processing what happened earlier, still fighting the weight of it, but he hasn’t shut down.

That’s progress.

Micah shifts beside me, resting his head against Callum’s shoulder. “How are you feeling?” he asks gently.

Callum lets out a slow breath. “Like I want to be angry, but I’m too exhausted for it.”

I glance up at him. “Angry at what?”

His jaw tenses. “Myself. That I froze. That I let it get to me.”

Micah frowns. “Callum—”

“I thought I was ready,” he says, voice tight. “I wanted to be ready.”

I reach for his hand, threading our fingers together. “You don’t have to prove anything to us. Or to yourself. Just trying today was already more than enough.”

His fingers tighten around mine. “It doesn’t feel like enough.”

Micah nudges him gently. “Then we’ll keep trying until it does.”

For a moment, Callum doesn’t say anything. Then, with a quiet exhale, he leans into us, letting his head rest against Micah’s.

I stroke my fingers through his hair, feeling the tension slowly ease from his body. “We’re in this together, okay? You don’t have to fight this alone.”

Callum doesn’t answer right away. But then he nods, just slightly.

And that’s enough.

The next morning, I wake up to the feeling of movement beside me.

Callum is getting out of the nest.

I blink sleepily, watching as he stretches, rubbing the back of his neck. There’s still a shadow behind his eyes, a lingering weight in his posture, but something is different today.

He looks determined.

“You’re up early,” I murmur, voice thick with sleep.

He glances at me, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Micah stirs beside me, peeking up at Callum with bleary eyes. “Where are you going?”

Callum hesitates for a second. Then: “The garden.”

That wakes me up properly.

Micah sits up too, rubbing his eyes. “Really?”

Callum nods, shifting his weight slightly. “I… think I’m ready to be out there again.”

There’s a beat of silence before Micah smiles, soft and warm. “Want some company?”

Callum looks at him, then at me.

For a second, I think he might say no. That this is something he wants to do alone.

But then he nods. “Yeah. I think I’d like that.”

Outside, the morning air is crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and blooming flowers. The garden looks almost untouched, but I know that’s not true.

Callum has been absent from it for weeks.

Still, his fingers brush over the leaves with familiarity, his touch reverent as he kneels beside the plants. I watch as he exhales, his shoulders loosening, his body relaxing into the space like it’s an extension of himself.

Micah crouches beside him, silently passing him a pair of shears. Callum takes them, his lips quirking just slightly.

“Everything’s overgrown,” he mutters, but there’s no frustration in his tone.

Micah grins. “Nothing a little care won’t fix.”

I lean against the fence, watching as they fall into an easy rhythm—Micah clearing space, Callum trimming away dead leaves, both of them working in quiet harmony.

For the first time in a long time, Callum looks at peace.

I smile, stepping forward to join them.

And just like that, we begin to rebuild.

Together.