Chapter 67 Elana Waits
The treeline marked the exact boundary where the jagged, frozen hostility of the high peaks surrendered to the dense, pine-scented sanctuary of the valley floor. And just as Jax had predicted, Elana Blackwood was there, pacing a trench into the hard-packed snow.
Her blacked-out SUV, an armored behemoth usually reserved for official pack business or transporting the High Luna, was idling nearby. The exhaust plumed in thick white clouds into the biting air, keeping the interior warm, but Elana wasn’t inside. She was marching back and forth in front of the grille, her heavy fur coat pulled tight against her throat, her boots crunching a rhythmic path of pure maternal anxiety.
As she paced, her breath puffing in quick bursts, Elana’s mind drifted back three years. She remembered the smell of stale cigarettes and old carpet in a dingy roadside motel room. She remembered finding her son, Fennigan, hovering over a terrified, broken girl who was vibrating with trauma.
Elana had known then, with a mother’s bone-deep instinct, that the girl was special. She had liked Leela’s spirit immediately—the way she had snarled at them even when she was cornered. But she hadn't known this. She hadn't known that the trembling girl in the motel would become the steel spine of the entire pack. She hadn't realized that this "stray" would be the one to ground her wild son, defy the Council, and carry the future of the Blackwood line through fire and fog.
Please let her be okay, Elana whispered to the wind. Please let the fog release her.
The sound of a heavy engine grinding gears snapped her head up.
The mountain climber burst through the last line of trees. It looked battered—the metal siding scraped raw from the slide, the wheel wells packed with ice, and the treads groaning under the strain. But it was moving under its own power.
Elana didn't wait for it to park. She broke into a run, her boots slipping slightly on the slush, moving with a speed and agility that belied her age. As the massive vehicle shuddered to a halt, she was already there. She grabbed the handle of the driver side and hopped up onto the running board before the engine had even sputtered and died.
Jax frantically rolled down the window, the cold mountain air rushing into the warm cabin.
"Mom!" Jax yelped, startling as her face appeared right next to his, her eyes wide and searching. "Jesus, you’re going to give me a heart attack—"
Elana ignored him completely. She leaned halfway into the cabin, bypassing her son entirely. Her eyes scanned the back of the vehicle frantically until they landed on the floor where Fennigan was holding a and the woven basket.
"Leela!" Elana gasped, the relief washing over her face so visibly it looked like she had aged backward ten years. "Look at you... oh, thank the Goddess. You're awake. You're back." Her gaze dropped instantly to the wicker basket, her voice softening to a coo. "And how are my grandbabies? Are they warm enough? Did the ride bump them too much? Is the heater back there working?"
She didn't stop for an answer before whipping her head toward the passenger seat beside Jax. "Ginny? Are you okay, sweetheart? You look pale. Did you eat? Do you need water?"
From the driver’s seat and the floor, Jax and Fennigan exchanged a look. Then, simultaneously, the two massive Blackwood brothers threw their heads back and started laughing. It was a loud, releasing sound that echoed off the cabin walls.
Elana pulled back, blinking in confusion, a snowflake catching on her eyelash. "What? What is so funny? I am conducting a medical assessment!"
Jax leaned his head back against the headrest, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye. "Mom... there was a time, not too long ago, when the first thing out of your mouth would have been to ask if Fenn and I were okay. We just slid down half a mountain sideways, in case you didn't notice the paint job."
Elana looked at her youngest son, then at her eldest, and offered a serene, unapologetic smile. She reached in and patted Jax’s cheek with a gloved hand—a little harder than necessary.
"Of course I want to know if my boys are okay, Jax," she said sweetly. "But let's be honest. You two are big, ugly wolves who bounce when you hit the ground. You have skulls like granite. Right now, I have to check on my girls and my babies. They are the delicate treasures. You are the furniture movers."
Ginny grinned from the passenger seat, looking a little green but happy. "I'm okay, Elana. A little motion sick from the... shortcut... but I'm okay."
Just then, a synchronized sound rose from the basket.
WAAAAH.
Caspian let out a short, demanding cry, followed immediately by Briar. It was the Blackwood alarm.
"Feeding time," Leela murmured, wincing slightly as she shifted her weight to soothe them. "They have a schedule now. And they don't like waiting."
Elana’s face melted into pure, grandmotherly adoration. She finally stepped down from the running board to let them open the door, practically vibrating with the need to hold them.
"Huh," she chuckled, watching Fennigan carefully lift the basket. "Already demanding food the second the motion stops? That tracks. Are they always hungry like Uncle Jax, or are they hangry like their Daddy?"
"Both," Fennigan answered, climbing out and handing the basket to his mother with a grin. "Definitely both. Good luck, Grandma."