Chapter 71

Ethan left with the patrol at dusk.

Nell watched him from the upstairs window, arms folded tight against her chest, chin tucked low. Below, the yard spread dark and uneven beneath the last of the melting snow. Winter was retreating in dirty strips of slush, wet gravel, and splotches of thawed mud. The trees beyond Greystone's inner ring stood black against a darkening sky.

Ethan stood with two of their father's enforcers near the edge of the drive. Older males. Proven. The kind Jason trusted. Nell could not discern all the words from where she stood, but she didn't need to. She knew the sound of command when she saw it. Ethan stood straighter than he had in weeks, shoulders squared, head turned slightly as he spoke. He wasn't restless, nor was he looking east every few seconds. He looked like an heir again.

That should have reassured her, yet it did the exact opposite. Because Nell knew her brother. She knew what it looked like when he was truly calm, and this wasn't truly it. This was like something inside him had solidified.

The older of the two males shifted his weight and nodded once. The other said something that made Ethan glance toward the southern ridge. Then all three of them walked to the treeline and shifted into fur. Before he disappeared into the trees, Ethan looked east once. Only once, and only for a moment. There was no old desperate urgency. He looked east like someone orienting to a fixed star, then choosing to turn away from it. Then he led the patrol into the trees.

Nell stayed at the window until the last dark movement vanished among the trunks.

She let her forehead touch the cold glass.

The worst part was that everyone around her seemed almost relieved. Ethan was cooperating. Taking duties. Not fighting their father over every order. Not restlessly prowling the house until one in the morning. To their parents, this looked like recovery. To Nell, it looked suspicious.

She pushed away from the window and went downstairs. As she walked past the study she heard her name and paused. There was a shift in her father's tone that made her stop before she chose to move. The study door had been left open by an inch. She knew she should keep walking. She stayed in place instead.

"He handled the western border well yesterday," Natalie said. "He takes every duty you have given him, without argument." She continued, quieter, "The enforcers respect him."

"They respect what he did in the challenge that day," Jason corrected.

"That too."

A pause. Then Jason said, "Somehow I would like it better if he were slightly less agreeable."

Nell nearly smiled despite herself.

Natalie huffed. "You worry if he's volatile," she said. "If he's calm and controlled, you also worry."

Jason's chair rasped against the floor. "If he is suddenly controlled after weeks of being led around by his instincts, then yes, I do find it suspicious." There was no anger in his voice, only the hard, practical assessment.

"Or perhaps the shock of what happened forced him to grow up," Natalie said softly.

A log shifted in the hearth and cracked softly. Then Natalie continued in a different tone, "There is something else."

Nell straightened.

"I heard that Gary Winters hosted a dinner two nights ago." A pause. "He invited the Coles, the Holdens, and a few of the others whose sons were involved in the bloodkin incident. His sister's family as well." The temperature of the conversation shifted sharply enough that Nell felt it through the crack in the door.

"Did you find out what was discussed?"

"From what I have heard, nothing that could be addressed as a direct threat." Natalie exhaled softly. "But there was meat, wine, grievance, and Gary at the head of the table letting wounded pride ferment under his roof. You know what he's doing."

"Measuring. Gathering." Jason's voice turned colder. "I would have thought as much."

Nell pressed her lips together. So Winters was moving, just as she had feared.

"What will you do?" Natalie asked.

Jason let out a soft exhale. "Nothing that gives him what he wants."

Natalie clicked her tongue. "A reason."

"Yes."

The word sat there, plain and heavy as a lead block.

Natalie turned. Her heels clicked on the polished floor. "And what if he loses patience and attacks anyway?"

Jason didn't hesitate. "Then I will answer the challenge."

Nell swallowed. No drama. No long speech. Just the end of one possible road named aloud. If Gary attacked, Jason would answer. If Jason answered, Greystone and Winters would bleed. If Blackwell got pulled in, which it would, because Kelsey stood at the center whether anyone admitted it or not, then Cold Creek would become the thing its founders had built the town to avoid. History did not repeat neatly. It came back wearing new faces, taking different routes, but ending the same nonetheless.

Nell stepped back from the door because she had heard too much and still needed to look normal by the time Ethan returned. She went to the kitchen. "Just getting water," she called when her mother asked. Her voice sounded normal. She was getting better at that particular talent, unwillingly.

***

By the time the patrol returned, night had covered the valley. Nell was in the living room with a book open in her lap and not one word of it entering her head. The fire painted the walls in unsteady orange.

She heard them as they approached the house: the muffled sound of their voices, the wet squeak of their boots in the mud. A moment later Ethan came in with the two enforcers who followed him like shadows. His hair was damp at the temples from melted snow, his cheeks flushed from the run in the cold, his clothes pulled on carelessly but not hastily. There was mud on his boots, hands and clothes where he gripped them as he dressed, as well as a shallow scratch along his neck that had already started closing.

He looked serious, focused, and calm.

Jason emerged from the study at once. Ethan stopped near the entryway, his shoulders straightening in immediate acknowledgment. The enforcers stood back enough.

"Report." Jason ordered.

Ethan didn't hesitate. "Western boundary clear. Fresh deer trail near the creek, no human scent. Two older tracks near the northern boundary, probably from yesterday. Strays, probably, but not deep enough to call trespass. Warren checked the angle." He glanced once at the older male, who nodded. "Southern boundary also clear. No sign of outsiders."

"And the eastern line?" Jason asked.

Nell watched Ethan's face. He remained almost unnaturally calm. Not a single muscle twitched.

"Clean."

Jason held his gaze for one beat too long. Then nodded. "Good."

The enforcers inclined their heads. Approval, restrained but real, passed through the entryway. Ethan received it without visible pride. That, more than anything else, made Nell want to throw something at him.

Jason looked to the enforcers. "Revisit the northern boundary tomorrow. Make sure there are no new trespassings."

Both gave sharp nods and then left through the side door.

Ethan remained where he was, looking simultaneously young and old.

"You did well," Jason said.

Ethan's jaw shifted once, as if he was unsure how exactly to handle praise. "Thank you."

Natalie appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on a towel. Her eyes went at once to the scratch on his neck.

"It's nothing," Ethan said.

"Hmm. Let me take a look." She touched his jaw and tilted his head enough to inspect it. The scratch had nearly sealed already. Still, she checked. Jason watched the exchange, his expression unreadable. Nell caught the faint softening around his eyes before it vanished.

"Clean up," he said. "Then eat."

It was all very proper and controlled. But it didn't sit right.

***

Nell caught Ethan before he reached the stairs. She glanced toward the kitchen, then jerked her chin toward the back porch. He knew from her voice. He always did.

"Follow me outside," she whispered.

His eyes narrowed. For a second she thought he might refuse. Then he opened the back door and stepped out.

The cold hit like a slap after the fire-warmed house. The porch boards were damp underfoot. The yard beyond lay silver-black under moonlight, thawing snow reflecting light in broken patches.

Nell shut the door behind them.

"I heard Mom and Dad talking," she said. "About you. And Gary Winters." She gave him a sharp glance.

Ethan's shoulders tensed a fraction. "What about him?"

"It seems he hosted a dinner party. He invited the families of Matt, Ryan, and the other males who challenged you." She paused, letting it sink in. "He's gathering them, riling them up, who knows what else."

Ethan blinked, and then his face darkened. "I see." His jaw seemed to work along with his mind. "Thanks, Nell. I'm sure Dad is handling it." He stepped aside to walk around her, but she blocked his way.

"You are not leaving until you explain exactly what has been going on with you." She hissed under her breath.

Ethan sighed. "Nell..."

"No. You don't suddenly get to decide to keep me in the dark after dragging me through every cursed inch of this from the beginning." She stepped closer, lowering her voice. "I covered for you. I went to the archives. I stood between you and Lara when you were too far gone to remember subtlety. I lied to Jack Blackwell in the woods for you." Her throat clenched, but she pushed through it. "So don't you dare stand there and treat me like some delicate flower who can't handle the truth."

He looked away. That told her enough.

"What happened in those woods with Kelsey?" she said. She studied him carefully. "You came back different. I thought maybe the violence burned something out of your system." She wrinkled her nose. "But that doesn't explain why she suddenly smells different."

The night seemed to still around them.

Ethan's eyes narrowed. "Different. Different—how?"

Nell stepped back, studying him. "You didn't notice?"

Ethan didn't answer, but she noticed a muscle in his jaw tick once.

Nell ran both hands through her hair. "Maybe I'm imagining things. Maybe I've gone crazy from all this. But it's like her scent is duller now. Less bloodkin, less sharp, if that makes any sense. Maybe I'm hallucinating. But I don't think I am. I see it in school. Everyone is suddenly more normal around her, and I don't think it's just because of Dad's protection or your lesson. I think it's more than that. Whatever happened in those woods, it somehow changed both of you."

Ethan's mouth pressed into a thin line. His gaze drifted toward the dark line of trees, toward whatever part of himself answered when Kelsey's name went unspoken.

"Tell me the truth," Nell said.

His jaw worked. "I didn't want to pull you further into it."

She stared at him. Then laughed, sharply, once. "Too late."

"It's dangerous."

"Congratulations on noticing." She crossed her arms. "I have been in this since the first time you looked at her like the ground moved under your feet and tried to pretend it hadn't. Whatever this is, I'm already in it. And whatever comes, I'm with you."

His face shifted. For one second he looked less like the heir who had given patrol reports and more like her brother. The one who had pulled burrs from her hair when they were pups because she kept crawling into dens she had no business entering. The one who had stood between her and older boys before she had grown strong enough to do it herself.

Then the heir returned. Or maybe the two had finally become the same thing.

He looked down at his hands. "I bonded to her."

The world narrowed to those words.

Nell did not move. Her body went numb. Then her knees forgot themselves. She reached blindly behind her and found the old bench by the wall, lowering herself onto it before she could do something humiliating like fall.

Ethan did not move toward her. Smart. If he had tried to steady her, she might have hit him.

"You're sure?" she asked.

He looked at her. The answer was in his face before he said it. "Yes."

Nell pressed both hands to her mouth and stared out at the yard. He wasn't speaking about inversion. Not about bloodkin scent dragging a male out of orbit. Not even about a nascent bond that could still be prevented from fully forming. The way he said it meant that the bond had fully set. Completely. Irreversibly. To Kelsey Blackwell, whose very existence had already put half the valley on the verge of war.

She looked up at him. "That's why you stopped looking east. It's because she isn't outside of you anymore."

He nodded.

Nell shut her eyes. For a moment she hated him. Not truly, not in any permanent way, but with the kind of fear that love turns into anger.

"Do you understand what this means?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Then you know Dad won't accept it." She kept her voice low. "Lara won't forgive it. Gary Winters will use it. And the Blackwells..." She stopped, as a shiver went through her. "Only heaven knows how they will react."

Ethan lowered his shoulders. Suddenly he looked very tired. "I know."

Nell rubbed both hands over her face. "That might explain why her scent changed." She mused.

Ethan's eyes widened. "You think she..."

"I don't know." Nell cut him off. "But it seems you being bonded to her affects her at least on some level. It would explain why you don't sense it—it's subtle and you're too synced and too desensitized to her to notice." She let out an exasperated breath. "Did you tell her?"

He nodded. "I did, but..."

"But?" Nell lifted her eyebrows.

He sighed. "But left enough doubt so that she doesn't freak out."

Nell dropped her hands and glared at him.

"Look," he said, his voice softening despite himself. "She knows enough to be afraid of what it might mean. You know what happened to her father. She's terrified." He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't want to scare her even more."

Nell leaned back against the wall and stared at the dark yard. Somewhere inside, a dish clinked in the kitchen. Their mother, setting the table. Their father in the study, thinking he had a serious, obedient heir back under his roof. If Nell laughed now, she might not stop. Instead she breathed through it. Once. Twice.

There was no going back. Not for him. Not for any of them.

Nell looked at him. "Do you have a plan?"

His jaw tightened. "I am working on it."

"Great." She let out an exasperated breath. "Just great."

Despite everything, the corner of his mouth almost moved.

She stood, because sitting made her feel too much like she had been defeated by the news. Then she stepped closer and jabbed one finger lightly, but not gently, into his chest.

"Listen to me very carefully. If you are going to do this, you do it clean. No sloppiness. No disappearing without cover. No letting Lara smell uncertainty. No giving Dad something to hook onto before you are ready." Her voice shook once, and she hated it. "And no lying to me again."

Ethan looked down at her finger, then back at her face. "I didn't lie."

"Don't start."

He wisely shut his mouth.

She lowered her hand. "I will cover what I can," she said. "Not because this is smart or because I've suddenly decided pack war sounds fun." She swallowed. "Because if someone tries to rip this out of you by force, it will destroy more than just you."

His eyes held hers.

"It will destroy our family. The pack. And her," Nell said.

The change in him was immediate. Pain, fierce and quiet, crossed his face.

"I know," he said quietly.

"So be careful."

"I am."

"No. You're in love and bonded and therefore probably stupid in at least several new ways." She pointed toward the door. "So I guess it will once again fall to me to cover your bonded ass."

A breath escaped him. Not a laugh, but close. For one second, he looked like Ethan again in a way that hurt.

Then he nodded. "Thanks, Nell. What would I do without you?"

She snorted. "Let's not test it, shall we?"

Silence settled between them. Not easy, but real.

Inside, Natalie called, "Dinner."

Neither of them moved immediately. Nell looked at her brother one last time in the moonlight, at the steadiness everyone else mistook for recovery, at the secret sitting beneath it like a live coal. Then she opened the back door. Warmth spilled over them.

Just before they stepped inside, Ethan repeated quietly, "Thank you. Really."

Nell did not look back. "Don't thank me yet," she said. "We may all still die."

And then, because she could not bear his face if she turned and saw gratitude on it, she walked into the house first.