Chapter 92
ELENA
Aiden asked me with those big pleading eyes, the kind that made saying no feel like I was stomping on a puppy.
“Can Dad come for lunch?”
He was up and walking now—slowly, with a slight limp when he got tired, but up nonetheless. And somehow, even on minimal sleep and a house still reeling from the last rogue attack, my son managed to look like pure sunshine in flannel pajamas and socks that didn’t match.
I hesitated.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want Derek around Aiden. That wasn’t the problem. He’d proven himself. Again and again. With gentleness I never knew he had. With patience I couldn’t have taught him. With a fierce, protective love that made me ache just watching them together.
The problem was me.
But I nodded. “Okay. Just for lunch.”
Aiden beamed, already running—well, hobbling—off to tell the kitchen staff. As if we didn’t eat at the same damn table every day.
Derek showed up wearing a casual sweater and jeans, his hair still damp from a recent shower. He looked good. Too good. I tried not to let it bother me.
Aiden—who was still easily winded—grabbed his hand and pulled him into the kitchen, guiding him straight to the breakfast table and sitting him down right next to the place I usually sat. Of course.
Derek lowered himself into the chair with a brief smile, then ran a hand through his hair.
Aiden tilted his head, like he was noticing something for the first time. “Why is your hair like that?”
Just direct. No filter. Out of the mouth of babes, I thought.
“Like what?” Derek asked, glancing at him.
“It has that white swoop in it,” Aiden said, pointing to the thick streak at Derek’s hairline.
It was probably the most noticeable thing about him—aside from his presence and his physique—but I’d never actually asked about it.
“Ah,” Derek said, leaning back in his chair casually. “It’s white there because of a scar.”
At that, he leaned forward and pressed his hair flat against his head. There, starting just at the hairline, was the edge of a gnarly scar—thick and fibrous.
“Whoa,” Aiden breathed, leaning in for a better look. “How’d you get it?”
Derek let his hair fall back into place, then settled in his seat again. “Rogues attacked me when I was twelve.”
Aiden’s eyes went wide. “Really?”
He nodded. “I was out too close to the borderlands,” he said, flicking his gaze to me in that unspoken-parent-language kind of way. “My parents always told me to stay away, but I didn’t listen.”
Aiden nodded seriously, completely engrossed.
“Now I’ve got a reminder every time I look in the mirror,” Derek finished. His eyes met mine again. He winked.
While Derek had been talking, my mother had slipped into the kitchen, and now she stood back politely, keeping a wary eye on the Silverclaw Alpha and watching him interact with her grandson.
I gave her a brief smile.
After assuring his father that he would never do anything so reckless as running off without permission—something he had done several times in his life—Aiden launched into a long, breathless retelling of some ridiculous Moonstone legend involving wolves and celestial alignment. It was a story the whole family had heard a thousand times.
Derek?
He listened like it was brand new. Eyes locked on Aiden. Laughing in the right spots. Asking questions. Smiling so wide it made my throat tighten.
I found myself leaning against the counter, arms folded, watching them.
It was stupid, really—how quickly Derek adapted. How naturally he fit into a role he hadn’t known he had for six years. And how much Aiden clearly adored him.
I looked over at my mother.
She still hadn’t said anything, just stood near the doorway with a tray of herbs in her hands, watching the two of them. Derek was helping Aiden butter a roll, letting him try it himself and then laughing when the whole thing collapsed in on itself.
My mother’s expression softened. Just a little.
And I felt my stomach sink.
Because I knew that look.
My mother was starting to thaw.
Great. Just what I needed—another person quietly voting Team Derek.
She caught me staring and arched a brow. “He’s good with him,” she murmured quietly.
I pressed my lips into a line. “He’s trying.”
She gave a slight nod and turned back to her herbs, humming as she moved to the far counter.
I moved to the table and slid in next to Derek with my plate, but my appetite had disappeared.
After lunch, while Aiden was distracted by a picture book in the living room, Derek caught my eye.
“Can we talk?”
His voice was careful. Gentle. Which immediately put me on edge.
I gestured toward the hallway and led him out to the back porch. It had snowed a little in the night, and now it had melted just enough to leave the air crisp and wet, the scent of pine heavy in the air. I wrapped my arms around myself and turned to face him.
“What is it?”
Derek rubbed a hand over his jaw, suddenly looking younger. Or maybe just vulnerable.
“I want more time with him,” he said. “I know you’re still figuring things out, and I’ll take what I can get, but… I was thinking maybe he could come stay with me. For a night or two. Just to start.”
I blinked. “Stay at Silverclaw?”
He nodded. “Yeah. We could camp out in the estate or maybe even head up to the north ridge if the weather clears. I just… I want to make memories with him. Teach him things. Show him my world.”
He smiled, eyes lighting up like he could already see it.
“We could build something together,” he said. “A den. A real one. He’d love that, right?”
I held up a hand before he could keep going. “Derek—”
“I know it’s fast,” he added quickly. “But he asked if I could show him how to track. I thought maybe—”
“Derek.” I met his gaze, firm. “I’m glad. Really. I’m glad you care. And you’re being… amazing with him. But overnights are a lot.”
His shoulders dropped slightly. “Right.”
“Let’s take it slow,” I said. “You can absolutely spend more time with him. But for now, either here at Moonstone or if I’m with you. Okay?”
He didn’t argue. Just nodded. “Okay.”
His voice was quiet. Disappointed, but understanding.
And for a moment, we just stood there. Close, but not touching. Linked by a boy who deserved more than either of us knew how to give.
Then the front doors of the estate burst open, and two Moonstone warriors jogged past us toward the motor pool.
I stiffened. “What the hell—”
I darted inside, Derek right behind me, and caught Chad heading out of the Alpha’s office, already in uniform, his expression grim.
“Chad!” I called. “What is it?”
He turned mid-step, still moving. “There’s been another rogue attack.”
Derek and I shared a sharp look.
“Where?” I asked.
“Lakepoint,” Chad said, adjusting the strap across his chest. “Pack elders were targeted. Two wounded. One critical. We’re mobilizing now.”
I grabbed his arm before he could push past. “I thought this was over. Pierce is dead.”
Chad’s jaw tightened. “Apparently not over enough.”
Then he was gone.
Derek and I turned to each other at the same time.
His mouth moved before mine. “Why are the rogue attacks still happening if Pierce is dead?”
I didn’t answer.
Because I didn’t know.
But deep down, I felt it in my bones.
Something bigger was moving. Something we hadn’t seen yet.
And the worst part?
It wasn’t over.
Not even close.
