238 The Line in the Dirt
Lucian
Darian and I dropped Mara off at the mansion and made our way to base. She didn’t look back. Not once. Her shoulders stayed squared, her gaze steady. It was unlike her, eerily so. Normally, I’d have to reassure her, maybe promise twice over that I’d come back in one piece before she’d let me go.
But this time? Nothing.
Maybe my return from Mistwood had changed something. Maybe she finally believed I was as unbreakable as I pretended to be. Or maybe it was the quiet confidence of knowing we had the upper hand this time.
“Mara didn’t flinch,” Darian said, breaking the silence.
I smirked. “Reading my mind again?”
He shrugged. “She’s getting stronger.”
“Or tired of worrying,” I muttered, half to myself.
Then I glanced over. “Did you tell Tiff you were coming on this mission?”
He shook his head instantly. “Hell no. I dare not.”
“Coward,” I said with a grin.
“She freaked out when I told her I was stepping up as alpha. When she found out you were back, she looked like she could finally breathe again. Yesterday morning, before I even opened my mouth, she reminded me you were home now, so
I was off-duty. Loud and clear.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “You should’ve told her anyway.”
“She’ll hear it from Mara,” he said casually, but I caught the tension in his voice. He knew it wasn’t right. He just couldn’t
bring himself to look Tiff in the eye and say it out loud: I’m going on a mission, and I might not come back.
No one wanted to admit that, not to someone they loved.
The base wasn’t far from HQ, and we pulled in fast. Crates of weapons were already stacked and waiting. Rowan stood by
them, arms crossed, eyes scanning inventory. Mara wasn’t kidding about stocking up, this was more than prep. This was
war mode.
Denis stood nearby, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. Honestly, Rowan was more suited to Gamma. Everyone
knew it. My father had kept him as Delta for one reason only: so he’d be close to Mara during the mission. I didn’t love the decision, but I understood it. I let it stand. Denis didn’t need the humiliation right now.
Still, his face looked like he’d just walked out of a funeral.
“What’s with the long face?” I asked.
He exhaled, slow and tired. “Tasha’s sick.”
I blinked. “So?”
He scowled. “So, I should be with her.”
“Not today,” I said, my tone flat. “Today you’re here.”
He opened his mouth to argue, but I didn’t let him finish.
–
(238 The Line in the Dirt
“We were at Mistwood together. You got home the same time I did. And since then, you’ve been indoors, safe, with your wife,” I said, my voice low but steady. “I’m married too, Denis. Mara’s already showing. But the safety of this pack comes first, for both of us. If the pack isn’t secure, then Keisha isn’t safe either.”
I let the silence hang for a second, then exhaled slowly.
I didn’t want to embarrass him. Denis was my friend. But I couldn’t let personal fear cloud duty, not now. And I knew what this was really about. His shift in priorities, his distracted energy… it wasn’t just worry.
It was Keisha. And Mara had picked up on it long before I did. She never liked the girl. Too much like Tina, subtle, manipulative, strategic in her softness.
“If you feel like you should be home right now,” I said, locking eyes with him, “then you don’t belong here. Not in this base.
Not in this rank.”
He looked stunned, hurt, even, but I didn’t blink.
“Your situation isn’t more urgent than anyone else’s. Your wife isn’t more important than ours. We’re all carrying that weight, Denis. Every one of us has someone we’d die for. But we’re here. Because we chose this. And if your heart isn’t in it, I need you to walk away, before someone pays the price for your hesitation.”
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His gaze dropped first, a flicker of submission flashing in his eyes. I felt my mark burn faintly, that tether of dominance and disappointment pressing into him like a silent command.
“I’m sorry, Alpha,” he said finally. He raised his hand in a salute, formal and stiff. “I was out of line.”
I nodded but didn’t relax. His words said one thing. His energy said another. The guilt, the resistance, the barely buried resentment, it was still there, simmering under the surface.
I stepped past him and walked to the crates. My hand brushed the cool steel of the weapons inside. We needed everyone clear-headed and all in. Anything less could get us killed.
