As Ambrose tends to the wounded and my mom converses with the Fae, I hold Kit in my arms, vowing never to let go of him again. He leans against me, limp with exhaustion and relief, and shivers with the aftermath of adrenaline.
"I'm fine," Dane grumbles, swatting Ambrose's hands aside as the other man crouches next to him, trying to get a look at his wound. "Help someone who needs it."
"If you'd like to bleed to death, you may do so on your own time," Ambrose snaps. "Though I suspect your Mate will have something to say about it. Now, hold still."
Dane glowers, but allows him to treat the tears in his flesh. A moment later, Ambrose sits back with a sigh, brushing auburn curls out of his face with bloodied hands.
"That will have to do for now. I'll need the rest of my strength for Martin. He's in a bad way, but I can't help him until he Shifts."
"Take him to Sasha's," Dane says, pushing himself to his feet. "It's less than a mile, if you cut through the meadow to the south and follow the stream."
"I'll show you," Sasha volunteers. "Ophie should come too. She sprained her ankle pretty bad when Jake caught up with us."
"Where is that bastard, anyway?" Dane asks, glancing towards the entrance of the canyon. "And the rest of Ferrault's guys?"
"I knocked one out cold," Darius says, shifting his grip on Martin's unconscious form. "Frey and Noah beat the shit out of the two that had Martin. They fucked off back to the starting line, I think. As for Jake and One-Eye..."
He glances at Sasha, and she grimaces.
"They caught me an' Ophie at the creek — the one dad likes to fish at. They might've killed us, but..."
"I came along," Ambrose interjects. "Jake must've thought I was easy prey, and came right at me. Turns out I'm too hot to handle — unless you know how." He winks at Noah. "Hope he didn't mind cremation."
"Ambrose!" Noah hisses, mortified.
"Sorry," Ambrose flinches. "You know how I get when I'm tired."
Noah softens and rests a hand on his back. "I do. I'm just glad you're alright. What about the other guy?"
"One-Eye? Er..."
Ophelia shrugs. "We were fighting in water. I guess he forgot to breathe."
"Great." Dane rubs his brow. "So now what? There's still guys with guns guarding Julian and the kids, and Dad. Not to mention Elena and Selene."
Our mom straightens her shoulders. "Dane Hunter, do you imagine your mother would go all the way to Faerie, broker a treaty with the Summer Queen, and come back with only three Fae? It's taken care of."
"Oh." He slumps, obviously relieved to relinquish the hero role, despite his tough-guy act. Some exhausted corner of my brain wants to laugh — nothing like having your mom save your grown-up ass — but I just give Kit a little squeeze, instead.
"You okay?" I ask.
He looks up at me, his eyes wide in the dark. "No," he whispers. "But I think I will be, now."
"Good." I kiss his forehead. "Me, too."
~ ☾ ~
It takes a while, but eventually everything gets sorted out.
While Darius carries Martin back to Sasha's, accompanied by Ambrose, Ophelia, and Sasha herself, the rest of us head back the way we came, to meet up with the remainder of our enemies.
The three Fae lend me, Dane, and Kit their outer robes for modesty and warmth. Then they quickly fashion a makeshift stretcher from branches, and force Stefan and Ferrault's other men to Shift and carry the Dire's body as proof of his defeat.
Our mom didn't lie, and halfway back to the ridge, we're met by Julian and our dad, bearing Luna and Luca, Martin's four children, and a party of six Fae, who guard Elena and Selene. The rest of Ferrault's men and their vehicles have been escorted off our land.
As Dane reunites with his family, our mom addresses Elena and Selene.
"What you see here is what remains of your forces. Ferrault is dead. He died in combat, and with honor. Your own people may attest to it."
This is a more generous spin than I would have put on it, but our mom is known for her diplomacy. What other Wolf could make a deal with the Fae?
Elena looks to the line of bedraggled men, and Stefan nods in acknowledgement. Selene gazes down on Ferrault, but her expression is closer to relief than grief. I hope she realizes what a narrow escape she's had.
"And Jake?" Elena asks, scanning the faces that surround her.
"Dead," Mom says, "as is another whose name I do not know. Our condolences on your loss."
Elena's lips draw back in a snarl.
"Traitorous bitch," she hisses, echoing her brother's words. "You would rather lick the feet of these Fae filth than face honorable defeat? When the White Dawn—"
Our mom raises her hand, and the Fae raise their bows. Elena shuts up.
"Your brother's death was avoidable, as was your Chosen's. They did not have to come here, intent on harm. As for treachery, it is you who ought to be ashamed. You have used my son poorly, and according to the old laws you hold so dear, I would be within my rights to demand your life for it. Do you deny it?"
Elena's lips thin to a line, and she lifts her chin, but makes no answer.
"Moreover, your Dire and his second's deaths leaves you in command. Perhaps we should follow tradition and make an example."
Elena pales and glances at Selene, and I get the feeling she's the sort to throw others under the bus to save her own skin.
Mom continues before she has the chance. "I am willing to let 'tradition' slide, and to pardon past offenses, however — if you will abide by certain conditions, of course."
"Name them," Elena snaps.
"First, you sever all ties to my family, including to your former Mate, my son."
"Done, and gladly."
Ignoring the other woman's sneer, Mom goes on in an even, measured tone.
"Second, you will convey this message to the rest of your brother's Pack, to the White Dawn, and to the Mortaines: this land is no longer Wolf territory. It belongs to the Fae, and to trespass here is to ask for death."
Elena scowls, but nods. "Consider it done. No one wants your tainted devil-ground, anyway."
A growl emanates from Dane, who holds Julian and his children at his side, but our mom merely lifts a brow and lets the insult pass.
"And finally," she says, "the children stay with us. Flora, Miguel, Rio, and Nico belong to the Hunter Pack."
I expect Elena to protest at this, but she looks almost relieved. "Fine. Martin raised them to be weak, anyway, and the damage is done. If you want them, they're yours."
I glance at the children, who watch the proceedings with wide, frightened eyes. The two older siblings seem to be trying to protect the younger pair, but all four faces show the marks of recent tears. When their grandpa beckons, they run to him as if at the promise of a lifeline, and my heart breaks for my nephews and niece. They've got some therapy in their futures for sure, if I have any say in it.
My mom turns her attention on Selene, last.
"As for you, Selene Mortaine, you've pitted yourself against us twice now, and lost. You will not survive a third attempt. Bring word of what has passed here to your uncle, and warn him well: if a Mortaine so much as looks askance at a Hunter again, it means war. Our Packs brokered peace for a reason; he should remember it."
Selene glances at Ferrault's body again, and sniffs. "Fine. Consider it done. May you all eat wolf's bane and die."
"May you go in peace," Mom says, even-toned as ever. "And perhaps if you stop chasing power, you will even find happiness, someday."
Selene scowls, but says nothing more, and the Fae escort the last of our enemies off our lands.
~ ☾ ~
"Will they have to move?" Kit asks as we all walk slowly back to Sasha's house, taking our time beneath a moonlit sky.
"Will who have to move?" I return, squeezing him against my side.
"Your mom and dad, and everyone. If this isn't their land anymore."
"It's still our land, on paper," my Mom answers, coming to walk at our side. "We can live here as we please. The only difference is that instead of Pack-land, it's Fae territory now. We're stewards, not masters."
"That was the price for helping us?" I ask.
She shrugs. "Not necessarily. It was my idea. I figured if the land wasn't Wolf-territory, Ferrault couldn't challenge for it according to his outdated laws. Turned out, the Fae were only too happy to agree. Thin places are hard to come by, these days, and they were eager for the chance to control one again. Honestly, not much will change, except a bit of Faerie will probably bleed through. The land will grow more lush and wild, and things may slip between, now and then. We might glimpse a strange beast, or see lights in the sky or in the wood; nothing to fear, as long as we're respectful."
"Will you and dad stay?" I ask.
She nods.
"We'll rebuild. Ophelia and Ed are welcome, too. I think a cottage would be nice for them. Maybe by the lake, on the side nearer to town."
"Kitka will be a lucky girl, growing up here," I say, glancing forward to where Dane walks with his arm around Julian, each of them carrying one of the twins. Then my eyes stray to Martin's kids, and my heart constricts. My dad holds Rio's hand and carries little Nico piggyback. Flora and Miguel trail behind on either side.
"She will," my mom agrees, and sighs, seeing the direction of my gaze. "As for the rest... that remains to be seen."
~ ☾ ~
The others greet us on our return to Sasha's house, and as we gather in the living room, Ambrose descends from the second floor.
He looks awful. He's explained how he processes the pain of the injuries he heals, and from how pale and shaky he looks, I gather Martin was in bad shape.
"How is he?" Mom asks, as Noah goes straight to his side.
"Not well, I fear," Ambrose says, leaning on his Mate and swiping a trembling hand through his hair. "I've done what I can, but the body is all I can heal. Mind, heart, spirit..." He shakes his head. "The rest is up to him."
Mom nods. "Thank you, Ambrose. You've done more than enough. Go and rest, now." She looks to me and Kit, Julian and Dane, Freya and Darius, Sasha, Ophelia, and Ed. "All of you — get some rest. Tomorrow we will put the darkness at our backs. In the meantime, I will do my best to convince my son that we want him at our side, to greet that new day."
She goes upstairs, and the rest of us spend the night huddled in the living room, taking comfort in the nearness of family and friends.
~ ☾ ~
Martin isn't with us, though, when we gather for a subdued breakfast the following morning. Mom joins us, pale and unhappy, having clearly not slept a wink. She worries her bottom lip and stares into the blackness of her coffee cup, and finally raises her eyes to mine.
"Will you talk to him, Monty?" she asks. "Somehow, I think if anyone can get through to him, it's you."
"Is he...?"
She shakes her head. "He's not hurt, physically. But as Ambrose said, there are other kinds of hurts, and... He's given up. It's the Devouring. If he can't let Elena go and forgive himself..."
I swallow. "How long does he have?"
"I don't know. A few days, at most. He's already..."
She bites her lip again, not wanting to say the word.
We both know Martin has weaknesses, and maybe he was wrong to cling to whatever illusion of love he had with Elena, but he isn't 'weak.'
"I'll do my best," I promise, and squeeze her hand.
Kit accompanies me up to Martin's room, trailing me like a warm shadow at my back. I enter, and find my brother apparently asleep, lying beneath a blanket with his hands folded on his chest.
I sit beside him, take one of his hands in mine, and call his name.
"Martin?"
He opens his eyes and turns his head towards me, but his gaze is empty and blank.
"Monty..." His voice is a whisper of dry breath.
"Hey." I try to smile, but fail. "You got us worried, brother."
He shuts his eyes and murmurs, "Sorry."
"Don't be sorry. Just come back to us, okay? Your kids need you."
Tears leak from his eyes. His lips are dry and cracked, and hardly move as he speaks. "They don't," he rasps. "They're better off... And you'll all take care of them, I know..."
He draws a ragged breath, and I squeeze his hand.
"Martin, listen to me. Hear their names: Miguel; Flora; Rio; Nico. They need you. We need you. We love you, brother."
He takes another breath, and more tears escape him. "But I hurt you; and Kit; and Dad," he murmurs. "Elena's right. I should just..."
"No!"
I shake him, and the sound of my voice startles us both. He stares up at me, more awake than he's been so far.
"No, Martin," I repeat, a little softer. "Elena was wrong. Yeah, you made mistakes. We all have. I have. Mistakes like you don't even know. But I'm here for you. Like I hope you'll be there for me, one day, if I ever need it — and like your kids need you, right fucking now."
With his amber eyes locked to mine, he swallows, and loses more tears, but nods.
"Okay," he whispers. "Okay, Monty. Okay."
~ ☾ ~
And so, over the next two weeks, Martin recovers.
We all do — slowly, together, one by one, until at last we can smile and laugh again without thinking too hard, and without pain.
Ambrose and Noah head home first, followed by Julian and Dane. Freya and Darius go next, having caught wind of a new bounty up north in BC.
Finally, it's just Kit and I, Martin and his Kids, Sasha, Ophelia's family, and our mom and dad.
"I'm staying," Sasha says, popping into our tent as Kit and I pack our things. "I think Mom and Dad need me here, and I do love my house. Built the damn thing myself, after all."
"It's a beautiful home," I say. "I hope..."
I stop myself, but Sasha gets me.
"I know." She sniffs. "I don't know how Jake fooled me so bad, but I hope so too, Monty. When I'm ready, I hope I find someone to share it with, someday. But if I don't, I won't be unhappy, either. I know how to be alone."
She smiles, and embraces me, and then Kit, and then leaves us to pack.
As for Martin, he and his kids need a bit more time, but then they plan to join Dane and the rest of us in Spring Lakes for a fresh start.
In the meantime, Mom and Dad have moved in with him, bringing a bit of much-needed warmth to his cold, sterile house. They're thinking to remodel it and save some of the insurance money from the fire to build a cottage for Ophelia and Ed.
When Ambrose's construction crew came back to break down the temporary shelters they'd erected, they left one of the larger tents for Ophelia's little family, but it won't be suitable, come winter.
"You ready?" I ask, as Kit and I stand outside Sasha's home, a rental car waiting to take us away.
Kit leans against me, a bag full of all the things he can call his own slung over his shoulder. I plan to expand that list exponentially.
"I'm ready for anything," he says, linking his hand with mine, "as long as I've got you."
"You got me, Kit," I laugh, and kiss the side of his head. "So, let's go home."