Chapter 269
Alaric's POV
She's going to catch pneumonia, Slate observed in my mind, his tone edged with concern that mirrored my own. And Kade's going to blame us if she does.
"Kade's going to blame us anyway," I muttered under my breath, killing the engine and stepping out into the cold. The gravel crunched under my boots as I approached, and I kept my footsteps deliberately quiet, not wanting to startle her but also acutely aware that she was in that dangerous emotional territory where comfort could just as easily be perceived as condescension. I'd seen Ronan make that mistake more than once—hell, I'd made it myself—and the resulting explosion was never worth the good intentions behind it.
I moved closer, close enough to see the way her shoulders had gone from rigid defiance to something that looked dangerously close to defeat, the tension bleeding out of her frame in slow, painful increments. Without thinking too hard about whether it was a good idea, I reached out and draped my arm across her shoulders in what I hoped was a gesture of solidarity rather than control, the kind of casual, brotherly contact that said I'm here without demanding anything in return.
"Shit!" The word exploded out of her as she whirled around, and for a split second her amber eyes flashed gold—pure wolf, pure instinct—before recognition kicked in and the color faded back to human. Her hand had flown to her chest, and she was breathing hard, staring at me like I'd just materialized out of thin air instead of walking up behind her like a normal person. "Alaric, what the fuck—you can't just—Jesus Christ, you nearly gave me a heart attack!"
I held up both hands in surrender, though I couldn't quite suppress the smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. "You're welcome," I said mildly, and watched as confusion flickered across her face, quickly followed by irritation.
"Welcome for what, exactly?" she demanded, her voice sharp with the kind of defensive anger that told me she was this close to either crying or punching something, possibly both. "For scaring the hell out of me? For sneaking up on a pregnant woman in the middle of the night? Or—" Her eyes narrowed, and I could practically see the gears turning in her head as she put the pieces together. "Oh. Oh, of course. Ronan called you, didn't he? To come babysit me. To make sure I don't do anything stupid while the big strong Alphas go rescue poor drunk Casper."
The bitterness in her voice when she said Casper's name was like a physical blow, and Slate growled low in my mind, unhappy with the pain radiating off her in waves. She shouldn't have to feel like this, he said, and there was an edge of protectiveness in his tone that surprised me. Not around us. Not around people who are supposed to care about her.
We haven't exactly given her a reason to feel safe being vulnerable, I pointed out silently, and felt Slate's grudging agreement ripple through our shared consciousness. Out loud, I said nothing, just turned to stand beside her, both of us facing the empty stretch of driveway where the truck's taillights had disappeared, the silence stretching between us like a taut wire.
"You saw it, didn't you?" Her voice was quieter now, almost hesitant, and I could hear the embarrassment underneath the words, the shame of having been witnessed at her most raw. "I mean... all of it. The yelling. Me threatening to make Alaric godfather instead of Ronan if he didn't—" She cut herself off with a sharp laugh that held no humor. "God, I'm a mess."
She's not a mess, Slate said fiercely. She's fighting to hold herself together while everyone around her treats her like she's made of glass.
I sighed, the sound carrying more weight than I'd intended. "We haven't made this easy for you, have we?" I said, and the admission felt like pulling teeth, but it was also the truth, and Elowen deserved at least that much. "All the judgment, all the hovering... I imagine it's hard to be honest when you feel like you're constantly being evaluated."
She turned to look at me then, really look at me, and there was something almost startled in her expression, like she hadn't expected me to actually get it. "You're talking to Slate right now, aren't you?" she said, and it wasn't really a question. "Don't treat me like I'm stupid. I can tell when you guys are having internal conversations with your wolves."
The accuracy of her observation caught me off guard—most people couldn't pick up on the subtle tells that indicated a shifter was communing with their wolf, but Elowen had always been more perceptive than she gave herself credit for. I felt a smile tug at my lips despite the tension of the moment. "Guilty as charged," I admitted. "Slate thinks you deserve better than being managed and monitored like you're some kind of liability."
"And what do you think?" she challenged, and there was a vulnerability beneath the defiance that made my chest ache.
I considered my words carefully, aware that this was one of those moments where honesty mattered more than diplomacy. "I think," I said slowly, "that you're standing out here in the freezing cold, pregnant and exhausted and probably terrified about what's happening with Casper, and instead of being inside where it's warm and safe, you're punishing yourself because you feel guilty for caring about someone who hurt you." I paused, watching her face for signs that I'd overstepped, but she just stared at me with wide, glistening eyes. "And I think we should go inside before Kade kills me for letting you catch pneumonia."
"I'm not going to catch pneumonia from standing outside for five minutes," she protested, but there was less heat in it now, and when I gestured toward the house, she didn't immediately argue.
"I know this isn't what you wanted," I said as we started walking, keeping my pace slow to match hers. "Being left behind, being told what you can and can't do, having your choices taken away because everyone's so focused on keeping you safe that they forget you're a person with agency and not just a vessel for those babies." The words came out harsher than I'd intended, but Elowen's sharp intake of breath told me I'd hit the mark. "But here's the reality: you're the mother of the next generation of Thornwood leadership, whether you wanted that responsibility or not, and that means—"
"That means I have to let other people make decisions for me?" she cut in, her voice tight with barely suppressed fury. "That means I have to sit quietly at home while the men handle things? I know, Alaric. Believe me, I know. It's just... fuck, it's so hard. Being treated like I'm made of porcelain, like one wrong move and I'll shatter into a million pieces."
We'd reached the front steps, and I stopped, turning to face her fully. "It is hard," I agreed quietly. "But you're not alone in this. You have Ronan, you have Kade, you have me. We're going to figure this out together, even if you hate all of us right now."
Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, and for a moment I thought she might actually start crying, but instead she let out a shaky laugh and shook her head. "I don't hate you guys," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I wish you'd trust me to know my own limits."
"Tomorrow," I said, pulling my car keys from my pocket and jingling them slightly, trying to inject some levity into the heavy moment. "Tomorrow we can have a long, philosophical discussion about boundaries and autonomy and all that good stuff. But right now, let's get you inside where it's warm, make sure those two little troublemakers are cozy, and let Ronan and Kade deal with your drunk ex-boyfriend."
The corner of her mouth twitched—not quite a smile, but close enough that I counted it as a victory. "He's not my ex-boyfriend," she said automatically, but there was no conviction behind the words. "He's... it's complicated."