Chapter 120
DEREK
The bouquet was clutched in my hand like a shield, and I was two seconds from turning around and walking back to the car.
I’d picked the damn flowers myself—real ones, not store-bought. Lavender sprigs for calm, moon roses because they reminded me of her, and a few wild irises from the edge of the Silverclaw valley. I didn’t know if it was too much. Or not enough.
The Moonstone packhouse loomed ahead, a perfect blend of elegance and earth, and I’d barely stepped onto the porch before the door opened and Elena was standing there.
She wore jeans and a long-sleeved tee, hair pulled back, eyes sharp. Not unfriendly. Just… guarded.
“Hey,” I said, clearing my throat.
“Hey.” She eyed the flowers, then looked back up at me. “Are those for me or for the camping trip?”
I handed them over. “You. Figured I owed you something nice after ambushing you with a proposal under questionable circumstances.”
Her lips twitched. Almost a smile. She took them gently, holding them to her chest. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”
That one smile made it worth it. Even if she buried it the next second under a tidal wave of mom energy.
“Okay, Aiden’s bag is by the door, but I added extra socks—he always ruins at least two pairs. He’ll say he brushed his teeth, but check the toothbrush. If it’s dry, he’s lying.”
She was getting into the rhythm now.
“And no scary movies! He acts all tough, but then I’m the one getting woken up at three a.m. because he’s convinced a ghost is living in his closet.”
I nodded, trying to keep up.
“No soda after seven. He gets hyper. And he’s going to try to convince you that marshmallows count as a vegetable. They don’t.”
“Copy that,” I said. “No ghost movies. No sugar demons. Marshmallows are not a food group.”
She squinted at me. “And bedtime?”
“Ten.”
“Nine.”
I smiled. “Nine.”
Her expression softened slightly. “He’s really excited. He wouldn’t stop talking about it last night.”
I tried not to puff up at that, but I failed.
“I’m excited, too.”
She handed me the bag and watched as I hoisted it over my shoulder. “Bring him back in one piece.”
“I promise.”
I wanted to say more—so much more—but her eyes flicked toward the clock on the wall behind me and she said, “You’ll miss him if you don’t leave now.”
Right. The school.
I jogged down the steps, threw the bag in the back of the SUV, and took one last look at her standing in the doorway.
She still held the flowers.
And that almost-smile still lingered.
Aiden saw me before I even got out of the car.
“Dad!” he yelled across the schoolyard, backpack bouncing as he sprinted toward me. He skidded to a stop beside the vehicle and flung his arms around my waist. “You’re really here! I thought maybe you’d forget.”
I knelt so we were eye level. “Not a chance.”
His grin was blinding. “Can I show you my classroom? And the tetherball court? And my best friends?”
“I’d love that,” I said.
We made the rounds—his teacher gave me a wary glance, but nodded when I introduced myself. The Moonstone kids eyed me like I might sprout horns, but Aiden’s enthusiasm was infectious.
“This is my dad,” he told them proudly. “He’s the Alpha of Silverclaw, but he’s also really cool and knows how to cook hot dogs and use a sword.”
The kids blinked. One of them asked if I knew how to wrestle a bear.
“I’ve wrestled a wolf who thought he was a bear,” I offered.
They nodded solemnly. Apparently that passed.
We packed his things and headed for the car.
“I told them I might not come back until Monday,” Aiden said as he tossed his backpack in the back seat. “If I like the wilderness enough, maybe I’ll stay forever.”
I ruffled his hair. “Let’s see how you feel after two nights without indoor plumbing.”
“Gross,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “But fair.”
The stables were quiet, a few of the horses already saddled. I’d had the gear prepped the day before—packs loaded, tack checked, trail cleared.
Aiden’s eyes widened when he saw the horses.
“We’re riding to the campsite?”
“Western ridge,” I confirmed. “Too remote to drive. But the views are worth it.”
I handed him my phone. “Call your mom, okay? We won’t have cell service once we get up there.”
“Cool,” he said dialing.
I stepped away to give him privacy, but I could hear his end of the conversation—light, happy. He told her about the horses and promised to brush his teeth. Twice.
When he handed the phone back, his smile hadn’t dimmed. “She says to keep me away from bears and don’t let me drink river water.”
“Solid advice.”
He took to the saddle faster than I expected. Nervous at first, but game—gripping the reins like a little warrior. I let him set the pace, and we made our way through the forest trails in companionable silence, the rhythm of hooves and rustling leaves soothing in a way I hadn’t expected.
As we crested the final ridge, Aiden gasped.
The campsite sat at the edge of a bluff, overlooking a valley flooded with late-afternoon light. The sky was a watercolor of oranges and pinks. Below us, pine trees rolled like waves.
A canvas tent stood waiting, and the firepit was already ringed with stones. A pile of firewood sat beside it, and I’d made sure the sleeping bags were thick enough for the chill that would roll in after sundown.
“This is awesome,” Aiden breathed.
We dismounted, tied up the horses where they could graze, and then headed down a narrow trail to where the river split through the valley floor, clear and fast-moving. I pulled out the rods I’d packed and handed one to Aiden.
“Come on,” I said. “Time to catch our dinner.”
“Wait,” he said. “You mean we’re really fishing for dinner?”
I raised a brow. “What did you think camping was?”
“I don’t know! Magic coolers full of pizza?”
“You want pizza, you gotta catch it.”
He laughed, shaking his head, but watched carefully as I showed him how to bait the hook, cast, and wait.
The first few tries were messy—he nearly hooked my sleeve once—but eventually he got it. And then, just before I could tell him to reel in and try again, the tip of his pole jerked.
“I got something!” he yelled.
“Keep the line tight! Reel it in slow.”
He did, face red with effort, until finally, thrashing and glistening, a medium-sized trout flew out of the water.
“I did it!” he screamed.
I helped him unhook it and set it in the cooler.
“Think that’s enough for dinner?” I asked.
“We need at least one more,” he said with exaggerated solemnity. “I eat a lot, you know.”
“I’m learning.”
We fished for another hour, sitting shoulder to shoulder on the rocks. I watched the current, but more than that, I watched him.
My son.
Mine.
“I’ve never done this before,” he said suddenly. “Fishing.”
“I figured. Did your grandfather ever take you?”
He shook his head. “He’s… not really the fishing type.”
I nodded, choosing not to comment further. Elena’s father was a whole other issue.
“I’m glad we’re doing this,” Aiden said. “It’s like… it’s something moms don’t do, you know? No offense. Mom’s amazing. But this feels different.”
I looked at him, and my chest ached.
“She did it all,” he added, quieter now. “Tried so hard. I could tell she was lonely sometimes, even when she smiled.”
I swallowed the lump rising in my throat.
“She did everything for me,” he continued. “And she never complained. But sometimes I’d hear her crying after she thought I went to bed. And I didn’t know what to do. I just wanted to make her happy.”
My hand found his shoulder.
“She loves you more than anything, Aiden. You know that, right?”
He nodded. “I know. But I think maybe she was waiting for someone to love her that much, too.”
I didn’t speak for a long moment.
“She deserved better,” I said finally. “And I’m trying to become the kind of man who knows that. Who can show you both what love is supposed to look like.”
His hand found mine and squeezed.
The sun was dipping low behind the trees, the sky deepening into dusk. We packed up the gear, our fish secured in the cooler, and began the trek back toward the ridge.
That’s when I heard it.
A snap.
A twig breaking where no one should be.
I stopped walking. Aiden bumped into me.
“What?” he whispered.
I raised a finger to my lips and tilted my head, scenting the wind.
Nothing. Just pine and fresh air. No foreign wolves. No rot of rogue flesh. No metal or blood or fear.
Still.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
If I were alone, I’d shift. Let Erebus loose and tear through the woods until I found the source. But I couldn’t leave Aiden here. Not even for a second.
“Just a deer,” I said quietly. “But let’s get the fire going, yeah?”
He nodded, his face serious.
But even as we walked, even as we lit the fire and sat there absorbing its warmth…
…I couldn’t shake the feeling that we weren’t alone.
