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"That's why I brought her here. Our walls can protect her. Our territory can protect her." I did not say what my wolf's sole thought was ; I can protect her.

"Our proximity to her is also the thing that paints a target on her back. The further she is from the Blackwood name right now, the safer she is."

He was right. He was always right. Zeus on a mountaintop. Santa checking his list twice. If my father looked closely enough, he'd find me on the Naughty List.

"Your brother mentioned Anchorage."

Fucking Vidar. "I think it would look weak if we hid an asset."

My father's eyebrows rose, curving upwards like a question mark. His pupils remained dark, his wolf not sensing any danger. Only the human part of him was paying attention. He turned to look out the window at all he commanded.

"Four packs were coming for us," I continued. "We hit back, and we hit hard, with Nell's help. She's earned her place in our infrastructure. Which should come with our protection."

My father made a sound at the back of his throat. It wasn't disagreement. It wasn't assent. It was the sound he made when one of his children was naughty and he asked us what we thought our punishment should be. The funny thing about children, they often choose a harsher punishment than the parent had been prepared to dole out. Gunnar would hand over his boxing gloves. Astrid would delete her social media apps from her phone and hand the device over. Ivar would ground himself for a month. Vidar never got into trouble.

Me? They didn't need to punish me. I'd let any wrong choice eat me up from the inside out until my father called me into his office and told me to let it go.

"Sorsha called your mother while you were out. She wants the wedding date moved up."

My jaw tightened. One degree. I controlled the rest. The words, when they came out, were level. "If you think that's best."

He turned from the window then. Not all the way — just enough to look at me from the side. The lamp caught the gray at his temples and the old scar along his jaw. "You've been running the pack's intelligence operations for eight years. You've managed alliances, buried bodies, and kept this family's name clean through three territorial disputes and a federal investigation that was dropped before it could begin. I am so very proud of the work you have done, son."

The pride moving through my chest was like the first real heat after a long winter; slow and spreading, reaching places that had gone cold and stiff without my noticing until the warmth of those words found them. My jaw loosened more than a fraction. My shoulders dropped a full degree. It felt like being wrapped in a thick blanket. Or a curtain.

"Marriage is different between Alphas. We chose Rosalind Lobo for you because that alliance would make the pack stronger, but also because a pack needs an Alpha pair, not a lone wolf."

I understood what he was telling me. Not about the wedding date. About the woman in his kitchen.

He had seen it. Of course, he had seen it. Fenrir Blackwood had been reading rooms since he was born. He had watched me look at Gunnar standing too close to her. He had seen the way I crowded her. I'm sure my eyes had flashed for at least a fraction of a second.

He wasn't forbidding me. He wasn't warning me. He was telling me that he had taught me the lesson, that he trusted the lesson had taken hold, and that whatever happened next was a reflection of who I was and who I intended to be as the next Alpha of this family.

Which was worse than a warning. A warning left room for argument. This left room for nothing except the quality of my own character.

"I'll talk to Ma about the wedding date."

Fenrir studied me for one long moment. Then he turned back to the window. The green curtains were still in the lamplight. No draft. No movement. Just silk, floor to ceiling, the color of deep forest, exactly where they had always been.

"Good," he said. "Go eat something. Your Ma said you look thin."

The conversation was over. The test, I believed, was passed. I walked to the door, my hand closing around the brass handle.

CHAPTER NINE

NELL

The guest room at Blackwood Manor was an indictment of every cramped, one-bedroom apartment I’d ever worked my way through. Mei Ling led me into a space that smelled of expensive linen and fresh-cut lilies. The walls were a soft, muted cream, accented by heavy silk drapes that looked thick enough to stop a bullet. Or at least keep out the prying eyes of the golden-eyed sentinels in the woods. Every piece of furniture was a masterpiece of joinery and polish, looking more like a high-end boutique hotel room than a spare space in a family home.

“Sit,” Mei Ling commanded in that soft voice that was full of authority. Her tone reminded me of my grandmother's. She set a silver tea service on a low table. The porcelain clinked with a delicate chime. There were small cakes, too, and savory snacks that smelled of sesame and salt. “You have had a long day, Ms. Odhiambo. You are the center of a very loud storm.”

I sat, but I didn't relax. I watched the way Mei Ling moved. She was graceful, efficient, and entirely unreadable. She stopped in the doorway, her frame small against the massive mahogany frame. Once again, those dark jeweler's eyes appraised me. Her voice reminded me of my grandmother dusting me off after a fall and sending me back out to the playground. Her scrutiny reminded me of my mother blinking a few times when she remembered I was still in the room with her.

“Will your parents be missing you? Magnus has a habit of forgetting that people have lives outside of his requirements.”

“I don't have anyone.”

Mei Ling’s dark eyes sharpened. “No one?”