Page 37 of Wild Thorns

“What did you expect?”

“Someone softer. Someone who’d be overwhelmed by all this.” He gestured vaguely at the house, the property, the night. “Most people are, when they first encounter the Voss family.”

“I’ve dealt with overwhelming before.”

“I bet you have.” He took another drink, studying me over the bottle. “Jasper says you’ve got someone causing trouble. From before.”

I tensed. “Jasper talks too much.”

“Jasper talks exactly as much as he means to. Everything that boy does is deliberate, even when it looks accidental.” Dex shrugged. “He told me because he thought I should know. In case anyone comes around asking questions about a woman matching your description.”

“And will you? Tell them anything?”

“I don’t tell strangers shit about people under this roof.” He said it flatly, like it was obvious. “You’re here. That makes you ours to protect.”

Ours. There was that word again. The same word Jasper had used.

"They're not just rich eccentrics," I said. "Are they?"

He glanced at me sideways. "What makes you say that?"

"Everything. The way they move. The way people react to them. The things that everyone talks around without actually saying." I met his gaze steadily. “The wrought iron fence with inscribed sigils around the preserve. The locked section of the cemetery. The way certain people in this town move like—.”

Something flickered in Dex’s expression. Surprise, maybe. Or respect.

"You're observant."

"So I've been told."

“Most people don’t see that much. Or they see it and convince themselves they didn’t.” He was quiet for a moment, considering. Then: "What do you know about pack dynamics?"

I didn’t know anything about pack dynamics. But I’d noticed the way Rowena sometimes went quiet when conversation turned to family—not the Voss family here, but family in the abstract. The old country. There was a weight behind her silences that I recognized. The weight of someone who’d lost something they couldn’t get back.

“The Voss family and the Beaumonts have been circling each other for generations,” Dex said, leaning back. “Old grudges. The kind of bad blood that doesn’t wash out, no matter how many years go by.” He glanced toward the main house. “The boys don’t talk about it much. But trust me—it’s there.”

"Like... wolf packs?"

"Like any pack. Any group with a hierarchy, with roles, with a way of functioning together." He took a slow drink of his beer. "The triplets have always been different. Callum leads. Jasper smooths. Eli strategizes. They complement each other. Fill in each other's gaps." He paused. "They've never let anyone else in. Not really. They’re making an exception for you."

"I've only been here a month, and wouldn’t say they’ve all let me in. I think Callum tolerates me." It felt wrong the minute I said it.

Dex laughed. "Like I said, you’ve only been here for a month and you've gotten further than anyone else has in years." He looked at me directly, and in his eyes I saw the same sharp assessment I’d seen when we first met, but something else too. Something that might have been warning. "That scares some people. The ones who've been trying to get close for longer. The ones who think they have a claim."

"A claim to what?"

"To them. To this." He gestured vaguely at the property, the preserve, the night. "The Thornwood legacy isn't just money, Serena. It's history, power, responsibility. And whoever they choose to bring in... that person becomes part of it too."

“Becomes a part of it how?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he finished his beer, set the bottle down with a careful precision that seemed at odds with his size.

“Has anyone told you about the founding families?” he asked.

“Eli mentioned something. The Thornwoods, the Voss line.”

“They go back centuries. To before this town existed, before Louisiana was even a state. They built this place. Protected it. Made sure it stayed… what it is.” He chose his words carefully, like he was walking a line he couldn’t cross. “The Thornwood family has always been at the center of that. And they’ve always been… particular about who they let close.”

“Particular how?”