Chapter 41 The weight of Trust
The medical wing of the sanctuary feels different at night. Quieter, yes, but also heavier somehow, as if the walls themselves hold their breath while the injured heal. I've been sitting in this uncomfortable chair for three hours, watching Mason sleep, trying to reconcile the man before me with both the mate who rejected me and the father who nearly killed himself protecting our daughter.
Rory dozed off an hour ago, curled up in the chair beside me with her head on my lap. Even in sleep, she maintains contact with both of us—one hand on my knee, the other stretched out to rest on Mason's arm. Building bridges even unconsciously.
Dr. Chen enters quietly, checking his vitals with practiced efficiency. "His body is responding well to the treatment. The shift did significant damage, but nothing irreversible."
"How long until he's stable enough for the bond renewal?"
She considers this carefully. "Physically? Maybe three days. But Sage..." She sits on the edge of the empty bed across from us. "Are you sure about this? Renewing a mate bond isn't something to rush into, especially given your history."
"I know." I stroke Rory's hair absently. "But she's right. He's proven himself. And more importantly, he's still dying. The bond is the only thing that will save him long-term."
"And what about short-term? What about tomorrow, next week, next month? You'll be tied to him again, feeling everything he feels, sharing his pain and his struggles. Are you prepared for that?"
The question sits heavy between us. Am I prepared? To open myself up again to the man who shattered me? To trust that his transformation is real and permanent?
"Three years ago," I say slowly, "I would have said mate bonds were unbreakable. Sacred. Then Mason proved me wrong. He broke ours for politics, for appearances, for the approval of wolves who didn't matter half as much as what we had."
"And now?"
"Now I understand that bonds aren't about the connection itself. They're about what you do with that connection. How you honor it. How you fight for it." I look at Mason's sleeping face, seeing echoes of Rory in his features. "He fought for it today. When it mattered most."
Dr. Chen nods slowly. "The nursing staff is talking about it. How he shifted without hesitation, knowing it could kill him. How he put himself between Stella and Rory without a second thought."
"That's what fathers do," I repeat Rory's words.
"Good fathers, yes. The question is whether he can maintain that standard when the crisis passes. When it's just ordinary days and ordinary challenges."
Before I can respond, Mason stirs. His eyes open slowly, immediately seeking Rory, then me.
"You're still here," he says, voice rough with sleep and pain.
"Where else would we be?"
He tries to sit up, winces, and falls back against the pillows. "How long was I out?"
"Three hours. Dr. Chen says you're recovering well."
"And Stella?"
"Gone. Along with most of her followers. The ones who stayed and defected are being interviewed by Mark and the security team."
Mason processes this, then notices Rory sleeping. His expression softens. "She called me Dad."
"You earned it."
"I never thought..." He stops, swallows hard. "I never thought I'd hear that word directed at me. Didn't think I deserved it."
"You didn't. Past tense." I shift carefully, trying not to wake Rory. "The question now is what you do with the chance she's given you."
"Whatever she needs. Whatever both of you need." He meets my eyes. "I know words are cheap. I know I've said things before that I didn't follow through on. But Sage, I need you to understand something."
I wait.
"These three years haven't just been about dying slowly. They've been about recognizing what an absolute fool I was. Every day, every hour, every minute of pain reminded me that I chose wrong. That I prioritized the wrong things. That I let fear of change, fear of tradition-breaking, fear of other wolves' opinions matter more than love."
"And now you're not afraid?"
"Oh, I'm terrified," he admits. "Terrified I'll fail again. Terrified I'll disappoint you and Rory. Terrified that even with a second chance, I'll find some way to ruin everything." He attempts to reach for my hand, and I let him take it. "But I'm more terrified of losing you both again. That fear is stronger than all the others combined."
"Fear isn't enough, Mason. Fear fades. What happens when you're comfortable again? When the pack accepts us? When the crisis passes?"
"Then I remember this moment," he says simply. "I remember lying here, broken and dying, knowing I earned every second of pain through my own choices. I remember Rory standing between me and thirty hostile wolves, protecting the father who hadn't earned that protection yet. I remember you, sitting here for three hours, watching over me despite having every reason to walk away."
Rory stirs, blinking awake. "Are we having a feelings conversation? Because I should be awake for those. I have opinions."
Despite everything, I laugh. "Of course you do."
She sits up, stretching like a cat. "Good. First opinion: Dad needs to eat something. He used massive energy shifting and his body needs fuel to heal. Second opinion: we should stay in the medical wing tonight. All of us. Together. It's defensible and Dr. Chen is here if anything goes wrong."
"I don't need—" Mason starts.
"Third opinion," Rory continues, ignoring his protest, "Dad needs to stop pretending he's fine when he's clearly not. It's okay to be vulnerable. Mama taught me that strength isn't about hiding weakness—it's about acknowledging it and moving forward anyway."
Mason looks at me. "You taught her well."
"I taught her to survive. Everything else, she figured out on her own."
"Not true," Rory objects. "You taught me to think for myself. To question everything. To trust my instincts but verify with facts. To be kind when possible and ruthless when necessary. To protect what matters and let go of what doesn't." She looks at Mason. "She taught me that love isn't just a feeling—it's a choice you make every day."
The weight of her words settles over us.
Dr. Chen returns with a tray of food. "Someone requested sustenance for the patient?"
"Rory's orders," I explain.
"Smart girl. He needs protein and calories to rebuild." She sets the tray on the rolling table. "Eat everything, Mason. No arguments."
Mason manages to sit up with our help, and begins eating slowly. Each movement clearly costs him, but he doesn't complain.
"Tell me about the sanctuary," he says between bites. "How it works, who runs what, the dynamics."
I raise an eyebrow. "Why?"
"Because if we're going to make this work—us, our family—I need to understand the environment. This isn't River Pack territory anymore. This is neutral ground with its own rules and structures. I need to learn them."
It's a good answer. A thoughtful answer. The old Mason would have assumed his Alpha status gave him automatic authority anywhere. This Mason recognizes he's a guest in someone else's domain.
"Mark essentially runs security," I begin. "He coordinates with a team of twelve wolves, all volunteers who've been through his training program. They work in shifts, maintaining perimeter watches and responding to incidents."
"Like Stella?"
"Exactly. Dr. Chen handles all medical issues, obviously. She has a staff of six, including two other doctors and four nurses. They also handle wellness checks for all sanctuary residents."
Mason nods, listening intently.
"Elder Sarah oversees the spiritual and emotional well-being of the community. She provides counseling, mediates disputes, and maintains the meditation spaces. She's also the unofficial historian—she knows more pack history than anyone I've met."
"I'd like to speak with her. When I'm able."
"About what?"
"About how to atone for past mistakes. About how to build something new from the ashes of what I destroyed." He pauses. "About how other Alphas have handled having mates and children more powerful than themselves."
That surprises me. "You acknowledge that Rory is more powerful than you?"
"Sage, she brought thirty wolves to their knees without breaking a sweat. At three years old. By the time she's fully grown..." He shakes his head in wonder. "She'll reshape our entire world. The only question is whether we guide that reshaping or get swept along by it."
"Guide," Rory says firmly. "Definitely guide. I don't want to be some kind of unstoppable force that everyone fears. I want to be a bridge. A connection between old and new, traditional and evolutionary." She looks at me. "That's why renewing the mate bond matters. It shows that even broken things can be rebuilt. That change doesn't mean destroying everything that came before."
"When did you become so wise?" I ask her.
"Thursday," she says with a completely straight face.
Mason nearly chokes on his food laughing, then winces as the movement pulls at something damaged.
"Careful," Dr. Chen warns. "Your body has been through significant trauma. Laughter is good but not if it undoes my work."
"Sorry. It's just—" He looks at Rory with such affection it makes my chest tight. "She's incredible. This perfect blend of wisdom and mischief."
"She gets that from Sage too," he adds, meeting my eyes. "You were always the one who could make me laugh when I took myself too seriously. Could cut through pack politics with a single observation. Could see solutions I was too rigid to consider."
"And yet you chose rigidity over me."
"Yes. The worst decision of my life." He sets down his fork. "I need you to know something, Sage. The bond renewal—it's not just about saving my life. If you decide not to do it, I'll accept that. I'll use whatever time I have left to be the best father I can be to Rory. But I want the bond back because I want you back. Not just as my mate, but as my partner, my equal, my conscience when I'm tempted to choose wrong again."
"Pretty words—"
"Actions then," he interrupts. "Judge me by actions. I shifted to protect Rory knowing it could kill me. What else do you need to see?"
I consider this. "Consistency. Day after day choices that put family first. Small moments, not just grand gestures. Can you handle Rory having a nightmare without me there to guide you? Can you help with her lessons without trying to dominate the teaching? Can you support my decisions even when you disagree with them?"
"I can try. I can promise to always try."
"What about your pack?" Rory asks. "River Pack still exists, even if it's fractured. Will you try to rebuild it?"
Mason is quiet for a long moment. "Honestly? I don't know. The pack I built was founded on the wrong principles. On strength through domination rather than strength through unity. On traditional hierarchies rather than earned respect. If I rebuild, it has to be something completely different."
"Build it here," Mark says from the doorway. None of us heard him approach. "Sorry to interrupt, but the door was open and this might be relevant to your discussion."
"Build River Pack at the sanctuary?" Mason asks.
"Not River Pack. Something new. A pack that embraces both traditional and evolutionary wolves. That recognizes omegas as equals. That values family bonds as much as power structures." Mark steps into the room. "We have forty-three wolves here now, including the defectors from Stella's group. They need structure, leadership, belonging. You could provide that."
"I'm in no condition to lead anyone."
"Not now. But after the bond renewal, after you've healed, after you've proven yourself consistently to Sage and Rory—then you could build something revolutionary. An integrated pack where an omega and her daughter are just as valued as any Alpha."
Mason looks at me. "What do you think?"
"I think it's premature. You haven't even made it through your two-week trial period yet."
"But theoretically?"
I consider it. A new kind of pack. One where Rory could grow up seeing cooperation instead of domination. Where omegas and Alphas work together as equals. Where power is used to protect rather than control.
"Theoretically, it could work. But Mason, it would require you to completely reimagine what being an Alpha means."
"Then I'll reimagine it." He reaches for my hand again. "Sage, I spent three years clinging to the old ways while dying slowly. Now I have a chance at life—real life, with you and Rory. I'll reimagine anything, everything, whatever it takes."
Rory yawns widely. "Okay, enough heavy conversation for tonight. Dad needs to rest. Mama needs to sleep. And I need to process everything that's happened today." She stands, stretching again. "Dr. Chen, can we set up beds in here? Family sleepover in the medical wing?"
Dr. Chen smiles. "I'll have nursing bring in cots. Though technically, visiting hours ended two hours ago."
"We're not visiting," Rory says simply. "We're pack. Pack stays together when one is hurt."
The words hit all of us.
Pack.
Despite everything—the rejection, the three years of separation, the pain and anger and hurt—we're still pack.
Or maybe we're pack again.
Or maybe we're becoming a new kind of pack entirely.
Thirty minutes later, we're settled for the night. Mason in his medical bed, hooked to monitors but stable. Me on a cot to his left. Rory on a cot to his right, positioned so she can see both of us.
"Mama?" she says in the darkness.
"Yes, baby?"
"Are you scared?"
"Terrified."
"Good. That means it matters. The things that don't scare us aren't usually worth doing."
"Who told you that?"
"You did. When you were teaching me to hunt. You said fear keeps us sharp, but we can't let it control us."
Mason's hand finds mine in the darkness. "She really does remember everything."
"Everything," Rory confirms. "Including Dad promising to teach me pack history. I expect detailed lessons once you're recovered."
"Yes, ma'am."
We fall quiet, but it's a comfortable quiet. A family quiet.
Tomorrow, Dr. Chen will run more tests. Tomorrow, we'll have to deal with Stella's threats and the pack dynamics and the long-term implications of everything that's happened.
But tonight, we're just three wolves sharing space and warmth and the possibility of something better.
"I love you, Mama," Rory says sleepily.
"I love you too, baby."
A pause. Then, very quietly: "I love you too, Dad."
I hear Mason's sharp intake of breath, feel his hand tighten on mine.
"I love you, Rory," he manages. "More than words can say."
Another pause. Then Mason, barely audible: "I love you, Sage. Still. Always. Even when I was too stupid to show it."
I don't respond with words. Not yet. It's too soon, too raw, too complicated.
But I don't let go of his hand either.
And maybe, for tonight, that's enough.