Rise of the Underdogs: KADEN

Helping and Hangovers

Life’s great.

Not.

After my conversation with Dre ended, a sudden commotion erupted outside. The urgency in the air was unmistakable. We didn’t hesitate. We rushed out, our instincts kicking in. As we emerged, we saw Neil at the centre of the activity, his voice carrying above the noise as he gave out orders. He was directing a few Warriors and Trackers to secure and cross-check any children whose names appeared on the list of those gathered at the event.

He wanted no one overlooked, and I was game for that more than I was game for facing a pissed off set of boys from an Indigenous culture that could and would whoop my ass for making their sister cry.

Not that I would. I wouldn’t do that.

My own mother would serve me up with a side of polite conversation, then m******e my ego by pulling out the baby book.

For a brief moment, confusion overtook me. I scanned the scene, trying to comprehend the urgency that had suddenly gripped everyone. Omegas moved with purpose, guiding toddlers, infants, and sleepy pups through the doors of the mansion. The building served as both a home and a fortress, its walls offering security when needed most.

The packhouse quickly became a haven for the youngest and most vulnerable individuals present. Under Neil’s vigilant supervision, each child was directed inside, ensuring their safety as the commotion outside persisted.

My eyes moved deliberately across the crowd, intent on locating one particular child. There was a pup who had captured my attention and my heart, drawing me deeply into his world. From the very first night we met, he was different. And the way Logan looked at me as if I were an anchor in the midst of a raging storm? It secured my unwavering support for him.

I drew in a deep breath, summoning my Druid power from deep within myself. I threaded that energy through my wolf, feeling the unique connection between us. Malachite, ever attuned, settled back and tilted his head, swaying to the rhythm of my magic. The low, mournful howl that resonated through the air filled my senses, its pulse guiding me toward the rear of the packhouse.

Malachite helped channel my magic, shaping it into swirling patterns and jagged spikes of colour within the darkness. Amidst these magical hues, a single streak of grey stood out. An anomaly among the spirals and spikes. It was not the rarity of the colour that drew my attention, but rather the individual it was connected to. The identity bound to this greyish hue demanded my full focus.

To clarify, my Druid power set me apart. While I depended on my wolf, our connection was inseparable from my Druid abilities. We relied on each other, but it was my Druid power that truly defined the depth of our bond and the uniqueness of my abilities.

Different colours of auras meant different things, yes, but my power went way deeper. I saw the colour of the soul. Not the spirit. The soul.

Each person's aura reflected not just who they were, but the essence of their soul. Dreson’s aura shone as a brilliant, calming blue, radiating peace and stability. Leif’s aura appeared as a swirl of rainbow colours. Not because of his sexuality, but because he possessed a unique depth, grasping both the complexities and simplicities of life at the same time. Neil believed his aura was pure black, but in reality, it had shifted since meeting Izaria. Now, his soul glowed with soft green, interwoven with strands of white and brown, symbolizing healing, growth, and a newfound grounding presence.

A grey aura, however, embodied something profoundly different from the vibrant colours that marked strength, healing, or complexity. Grey was the colour of shadows, shrouding the essence it enveloped in an air of uncertainty and decline. Unlike the soulful blues or radiant rainbows, grey signified a life in transition. A soul whose vitality was ebbing away. It was not just a shade among many, but a warning, a marker of waning energy and the slow retreat of life's brightness. Where other auras reflected peace, growth, the grey aura stood as a silent testament to vulnerability, calling for attention and care as its light began to fade.

The only other people who had gray marks on their souls other than the dying were people who were caught in the in-between. That liminal space between life and death that eternalized their youth for decades longer than any other species.

Vampires.

I drew closer, my focus narrowing as I finally spotted the child I’d been searching for. “Logan.” His name escaped my lips, soft and reverent, like a prayer in the chaos. I watched as he wavered, his balance faltering before he stumbled forward and nearly collapsed. Instinctively, I reached out, steadying him. “I got you, Buddy. Don’t run off like that again, brat.” My voice was gentle, masking the worry that gnawed at me.

Just a few feet away, I caught sight of a man whose striking resemblance to my Mate was impossible to miss. He met my gaze, his eyes acknowledging me with a nod before he scanned the area, remaining alert to the shifting commotion. His attention soon landed on a little girl by the water, concern flickering across his features.

He called out to me, his midnight blue eyes gleaming with a quiet triumph. “I got her if you have him,” he offered, making it clear that he was ready to help. I gave a silent nod in response, our unspoken understanding guiding our actions in the midst of uncertainty.

Without another word, I gathered Logan into my arms and led him away, bringing him home to his father’s house situated at the edge of the territory. The weight of responsibility settled over me, but I knew he would be safe now.

Returning to the packhouse, I headed straight for the back porch, where both family and lifelong friends had already gathered. The familiar faces and comfortable laughter created a warm atmosphere, and I arrived just in time to lend my support as Leif prepared to make the evening unforgettable for my brother.

Seizing a quiet moment, I pulled Leif aside, making sure we wouldn’t be overheard. Without a word, I pressed the ring box into his hand. “It was delivered today. I intercepted it before he found out,” I said, my tone low but earnest. The significance of the gesture wasn’t lost on either of us. The secret was safe, and the night was set to become a memory none of us would soon forget.

Leif turned to me, his Welsh accent softened by emotion as he spoke. “Were it not for ye, I’d be lost on how to do this,” he admitted, the vulnerability in his tone underscoring the depth of his gratitude. The weight of the moment settled between us, highlighting the quiet support and understanding that had carried us through so much together.

“Well, if that’s the case, then you owe me a favour. Anything I want, when I ask,” I declared, doing my best to mask the disappointment that lingered beneath my words. The moment hung between us, charged with anticipation and the kind of playful rivalry only close friends could share. My attempt to sound confident barely concealed how defeated I truly felt, yet I pressed on. “So, you ready to make my brother squirm?” I asked, eager to shift the mood back to something lighter.

Leif’s eyes widened in mock indignation, but the glimmer of excitement in his gaze was unmistakable. “Good Gods. Are ye sayin’ yer actually lookin’ forward to it?” he replied, feigning hurt as our banter continued. Before I could answer, he pulled me into a fierce, emotionally-charged hug, his gratitude evident in the way he held on just a little longer. As he let out a breath, his voice softened. “Thank ye, Kaden. For the whole lot. From the day we met, ye were yer brother’s champion.” The sincerity of his words settled between us, grounding the moment in the shared history and loyalty that defined our bond.

Returning the embrace, I couldn’t help but grin. “Yours, too. Always. You’re just another brother to me, but to Dre, you’re the world. You’ll take care of him, right?” I asked, the weight of my trust clear in the simple request. Our connection went beyond friendship—it was a promise built on years of unwavering support.

Leif shook his head affectionately, a smile tugging at his lips. “Ah, love, you still live with us. Like a damn puppy, sure.” His teasing words lightened the mood, reminding me that, despite everything, I would always have a place in their family.

Our family.

I scowled playfully and shook my head, unable to suppress a smile. “You really had to go there?” The banter was familiar. An echo of countless conversations we’d shared over the years.

Leif’s laughter lingered as he leaned in, his voice low and mischievous. “Night’s not o’er yet, lad.” The promise of more memories, more laughter, and more brotherhood carried us forward into the evening.

When I opened my eyes the next morning, the pounding in my head left no room for denial—I was nursing a hangover. If I’d known how rough I’d feel, I wouldn’t have touched a drop the night before. Still, I couldn’t help but laugh at myself for pretending not to remember how it happened, or who was responsible. The evidence was clear enough.

Dre was wearing high-collard shirts. He never dressed like that. And Leif? He was acting like I was going to bite his head off. They had mated physically. Sealing the deal and getting their mark.

Ultimately, it was their lives to live and their choices to make. All things considered, I was just an observer to their story, watching from the sidelines as memories were made.

But it was still fun to watch them squirm under scrutiny.