CHAPTER THREE
931 Words
7 YEARS LATER
SERA
“…and the eastern border held steady last night,” the scout said, his voice shaking even though he was trying to sound firm. “We only lost two men to ambush. We killed four in retaliation, so the balance is still in our favor.”
“Balance?” I repeated, my voice slicing through the silence.
The hall went still.
Every soldier, every rogue sitting in the cavernous space kept their eyes on me, but no one dared speak. Only the scout shifted nervously, his hands clenched tight behind his back.
“Two men,” I said slowly, my gaze pinning him. “Do you know their names?”
He blinked. “I—I don’t—”
“Of course you don’t.” I rose from the stone chair at the head of the table, the one they called the Commander’s Seat. My heels clicked against the floor as I walked closer. “Because if you did, you wouldn’t call their deaths a balance. You’d call it a failure. And you’d work twice as hard to make sure it never happened again.”
The man swallowed hard, nodding fast. “Yes, Commander. I—yes.”
“Say their names next time,” I told him, my voice flat. “And say them loud. We don’t bury numbers. We bury people.”
A murmur of agreement rippled through the others.
I turned back, scanning the sea of faces—rogues, misfits, wolves that had no home until I gave them one.
Before I could dismiss them, a warm weight suddenly dropped across my shoulders.
“Gods, you’re terrifying when you do that,” Adrian drawled, his chin propped against me like I was his personal pillow. “I swear half the hall wet themselves.”
I didn’t flinch. I was too used to it. Adrian and his endless need for contact. He was like a shadow with hands.
“Get off me,” I muttered.
“Never,” he said cheerfully, arms looping tighter. “This is my comfort spot.”
I elbowed him lightly in the ribs, but he only grinned wider. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you love it,” he said. “Admit it, Commander.”
I shot him a glare. “I tolerate it.”
Gasps echoed across the table when I raised a brow, sharp enough to silence them. The rogues knew better than to comment on Adrian’s antics.
But Adrian didn’t care. He leaned closer, dropping his voice. “Rowan argued with his teacher again today. Said the multiplication tables were wrong because, and I quote, ‘numbers are stupid.’ Wonder who he gets that stubborn streak from?”
I narrowed my eyes. “From you.”
Adrian laughed, full-bodied, leaning even heavier against me like he was trying to melt into my skin. “You wound me.”
The doors opened before I could shove him off.
Elias walked in. His steps were measured, his posture precise. And beside him—Rowan.
My son.
Seven now, sharp-eyed and restless, his hair dark like mine, his gaze as cutting as the man who had sired him. But Rowan’s spirit wasn’t Rhys’s.
The moment I saw him, something inside me shifted. My voice, my stance, everything that had been carved into steel for these men—it softened without permission.
“Rowan,” I called.
His eyes lit up, and he darted toward me. “Mom!”
I bent to catch him, his small body slamming into mine, his arms tight around my neck. For him, I would always bend. For him, I wasn’t just Commander. I was simply his mother.
“You’re late,” I teased, brushing his hair back.
“It wasn’t my fault,” Rowan said quickly, pointing back at Elias. “He made me finish my writing assignment before we left.”
Elias arched a brow from where he stood, towering, silent. “Because you lied and said you finished it yesterday.”
Rowan huffed. “I did half.”
“That’s not finishing.” Elias’s tone was calm.
Rowan rolled his eyes dramatically, and Adrian burst into laughter. “Gods, he’s got your sass, Sera. You’re doomed.”
I gave Adrian a look. “And you’re teaching him bad habits.”
Rowan pulled back just enough to grin at Adrian. “Uncle Adrian says math is stupid.”
“Traitor,” Elias muttered.
Adrian shrugged innocently, still clinging to me from the side like he was part of this family whether I wanted him to be or not. “What? The kid’s not wrong.”
I sighed, holding Rowan tighter, burying my face in his hair for a moment. For all the power I commanded, for all the blood on my hands, this—this small body in my arms—was the only thing that mattered.
The warmth shattered when the doors slammed open again.
Everyone stilled.
My P.A., breathless, rushed in, her eyes wide. She clutched a folded piece of paper in her hand like it was burning her.
“Commander,” she said, her voice high and urgent. “There’s been a distress call.”
The hall froze.
My arms tightened around Rowan instinctively, my pulse spiking.
“From who?” I demanded.
Her lips trembled as she unfolded the paper.
My rogues leaned forward, tense, waiting. Adrian finally let go of me, straightening, serious for once. Elias’s eyes locked on mine, unspoken understanding passing between us.
The P.A. swallowed, her voice shaking.
“You’re not going to like it.”
- Writer
