Chapter 37
Rose-gold balloons bobbed against a backdrop of blue streamers, their metallic sheen catching the light filtering through the tall windows of the dining hall. A cascade of miniature cupcakes, frosted in pastel hues, spilled from a tiered stand, their sugary scent mingling with the earthy aroma of the rosemary-infused focaccia bread. Aliza’s designated chair, draped in ivory lace, stood sentinel amidst a sea of perfectly arranged napkins, each folded into a delicate swan. A hush fell over the assembled guests. Then, a murmur rippled through the room.
“They’re here!” We rose as one, a wave of anticipation cresting and breaking. The doors swung open, revealing Aliza, radiant, her eyes wide with surprise as a collective
“SURPRISE!” erupted, the sound bouncing off the high ceilings. Danny, a gentle smile playing on his lips, brushed a tender kiss against her forehead. Beth’s hand, strong and reassuring, guided them to the waiting chair.
Jackson’s arm snaked around my waist; his breath warm against my ear.
“That’ll be us someday,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. The words hung in the air, sweet and potent as the champagne flutes already clinking in celebration.
“Alpha,” the guard’s voice rasped, his hand hovering over the hilt of his sword as he loomed over Jackson. The words hung heavy in the air, thick with unspoken dread. “Problem Rogue at the border. Demands to speak with you. Claims… you’ll want to hear this.”
I started to move, instinctively falling into step beside Jackson. His hand shot out, a sharp halt. “Stay.” The command was a low growl, eyes locking onto mine, a stark warning etched in their depths.
The guard, his gaze flitting between us, cleared his throat. “He… he said to bring her too.” Jackson’s growl deepened, a rumble in his chest. “Stay close. And don’t cross the border. No matter what.”
The scent of sugared almonds and baby powder, the cheerful chatter of a baby shower, faded instantly. A wave of nausea hit me as I mumbled apologies to Beth and Aliza, the joyous occasion dissolving into urgent anxiety.
“Excuse us,” I managed, the words catching in my throat. A desperate promise to Aliza – “I’ll try to be back before presents” – hung in the air, as brittle as spun glass. Outside, the chill wind whipped around us, a stark contrast to the warmth we’d just left. A black SUV, sleek and menacing, idled in the forecourt, Cole and Max already seated, grim-faced. Behind it, a phalanx of SUVs, a dark, silent promise of power, their windows reflecting the gathering dusk. My brothers, Tyler and Ryker, among the warriors within. The border: a stark, unforgiving landscape of wind-whipped scrub and jagged rock. The rogue stood there, a silhouette against the bruised purple sky, his agitated pacing a frantic dance against the desolate backdrop.
He looked like a trapped animal, his every movement radiating unease, a stark contrast to the stoic guards that lined the border. There was something unnatural about his posture, desperate and frantic. Jackson’s voice, a low snarl, cut through the silence. “Why are you here?” The rogue’s voice, thin and reedy, was barely a whisper against the wind’s howl. “Alpha Wyatt… wants Zoe. He’s building an army… to take your land. And her.”
A guttural rumble, raw and thick as rusted iron, ripped from Jackson’s chest. The men around us – faces slick with sweat under the harsh desert sun – crumpled, their knees hitting the parched earth with a muffled thud.
“Tell him to come get her,” Jackson’s voice, low and gravelly, cut through the sudden silence. His eyes, flint-hard and cold, fixed on me.
“And tell him his informant is dead.” The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken violence.
My stomach lurched. “Jared… dead?” I whispered, the name a choked gasp. I’d known Jackson plan, the calculated risk, but not this… this brutal finality. Jackson’s hand, calloused and strong, closed over mine.
His grip was a vise, pulling me towards the SUV, its metallic gleam reflecting the merciless sun. He helped me inside, then barked a command at Cole, his voice a whip crack.
“Call Elder Larkin. Tell him if Alpha Wyatt wants war… the Royal Army will *give* him war.” The final word hung in the air, a promise etched in steel. The engine roared to life, a defiant growl mirroring the one that had silenced the men moments before. The dust, kicked up by the tires, swirled around us, a gritty brown shroud in the unforgiving landscape.
Jackson’s hand rested briefly on my arm, a silent tug-of-war. His eyes, the familiar storm-grey, held a plea. “Go,” he murmured, the words barely audible above the distant rumble of thunder. “Aliza needs you. I’ll find you later.” A promise hung unspoken between us, heavy as the scent of wood smoke.
I fought the urge to argue, the familiar prickle of defiance rising in my veins. But the image of Aliza, radiant and expectant, softened the edges of my resolve. The drive back hummed with a low, insistent thrum, a counterpoint to the frantic beat of my heart. I could almost taste the tension, metallic and bitter on my tongue. The baby shower exploded in a kaleidoscope of pastel colors and the sugary sweetness of a hundred tiny cupcakes. Laughter tinkled like wind chimes, a fragile melody against the backdrop of my simmering anxiety. Aliza’s eyes, bright with unshed tears, shone as she unwrapped a tiny, hand-knitted sweater. The yarn smelled faintly of lavender.
Later, with the last guest gone and the air thick with the lingering scent of lilies and baby powder, I pulled Katelynn and Aliza aside. “I need to tell you something,” I began, my voice low, the weight of it settling on them like a shroud.
I laid it all out: the rogue’s whispered secrets, Jackson’s grim pronouncement of Jared’s death, the looming war Jackson was preparing for. My voice, a tight thread, snaked through the air thick with the scent of lilies from Azria’s baby shower, still lingering faintly. Katelynn’s eyes, wide and dark, locked onto mine.
“You can’t be involved,” she said, the words sharp as shattered glass.
“You’re pregnant.” The unspoken hung heavy: Azria didn’t know.
A wave of guilt, cold and clammy, washed over me. Azria, oblivious, beamed, her laughter a bright chime against the somber backdrop of my revelations.
“Don’t worry!” she chirped, her hand resting on her swollen belly.
“I’m so excited for you! Our babies will be practically twins. Mom friends!” Her enthusiasm was a vibrant splash of color in the grayness.
Katelynn and I exchanged a look, a silent understanding passing between us. Then, a shared, shaky laugh – a fragile melody against the undercurrent of tension. I pulled Azria into a hug, the soft fabric of her dress a stark contrast to the weight of my secrets. “It was a beautiful shower,” I whispered, the words sincere despite the turmoil churning beneath. The scent of lilies, now interwoven with the faint smell of Azria’s perfume, filled my lungs, a bittersweet reminder of the day’s contrasting emotions.