I had never been the type to spend Christmas running between relatives' packs. I preferred staying within our temporary territory, choosing quiet days with my son over gatherings filled with Alpha politics and forced smiles.
I read by the firelight, helped Jared build Lego structures that looked like miniature fortresses, and drank coffee while the winter wind pressed softly against the villa windows. For a while, life felt almost still.
Elliot was rarely home during those days. As a high-ranking Alpha, he was constantly summoned to negotiations, dinners, and meetings with other packs who all wanted access to his influence. Still, I couldn't ignore the unease in my chest.
His leg injury had not fully healed.
And yet he refused the crutch like it was beneath him. He walked as though pain had no authority over his body, as if even injury had to submit to his will.
Sometimes I truly wondered if he was made of steel instead of flesh.
