The Bear's Redemption

Chapter 2

Kuma

I slouch deeper into the couch at the safe house. A half-empty bottle of Victory Brew dangles from my fingers, not the best stuff, but cold and earned. The kind of cold that settles in your chest and makes your muscles forget they’ve been tense for hours. Days. Years, maybe.

We decided to stay the night. Another mission's coming up at first light, not far from here, and it’s safer than heading back to the reserve only to bounce right back out. Arrow and Pan are outside on guard shift, both too restless to sit still, and frankly, both a little too intense to hang out with when you’re trying to chill.

Inside, though? The vibe’s easy.

Cards shuffle in Bellamy’s hands with that smooth flick-flick-flick sound. Of course, he’s good at cards. Of course, he’s counting every play like it’s a code to break. His expression is unreadable as always, but his eyes? Sharp. Calculating. That’s Bells for you, genius hacker and low-key assassin with a laptop, as if a thousand-pound fire-breathing dragon is not badass enough.

Next to him, Koda leans back in his chair, shuffling his cards with zero skill but abundant sass. The kid is finally unwinding a little, something I’m grateful for. His smile tonight is a real one, and those are rare. My little brother, my heart wrapped up in pale, lean muscle, white hair, and lilac eyes.

And then there’s Jax, Makini’s second-in-command, masterfully skilled in combat and armed with a mouth that could drive a deaf person insane. He’s smirking like the damn cat that caught the canary. Or the dragon, in this case.

“You sure you’re not cheating, Bells?” he asks, narrowing one eye as he tosses a card down. “You blink in binary, I swear.”

Bellamy doesn’t even look up. “Just because you can’t count doesn’t mean I’m cheating.”

“Oof,” I snort, grinning. “Savage.”

“Grunt once if that hurt, Jax,” Koda adds with a lazy smirk.

Jax throws a dramatic hand to his chest. “Hurt? Please. I’ve taken bullets with less sting.”

“Yeah, but you whined about a paper cut last week,” I mutter, drawing my card and hiding the corner of my grin behind the bottle.

“ONE time,” he protests. “It was deep. Bled for like... a whole minute.”

Bells laughs, and Koda just gives a low grunt that might be approval. Or boredom. Who knows with my little brother sometimes?

The room buzzes with warmth. Not literally, it’s still drafty in here, but it feels alive. Like for a few minutes, war and pain and chaos don’t exist outside the walls. Just the sounds of cards hitting wood, the occasional clink of the glass bottle, and Jax’s non-stop mouth.

I let myself relax, just for a while. Muscles unwind. Breath comes easier. This… this is what we fight for. Not just survival, but moments like this.

Tomorrow will come. With all its danger and fire.

But tonight? Tonight, I get to be Kuma. Just Kuma. Not third in command. Not the growly bear who still doesn’t know how to talk to humans without offending them.

Just one of the pack. Cards in hand. Cold beer in my palm.

The door creaks open, and I glance up, mid-sip. Her scent of caramel and vanilla with a hint of spice floods the room.

And immediately forget how to breathe.

Makini walks in like she owns the place, and stars. Tiny camisole, shorts that shouldn’t be legal, and legs for days. Her hair’s wet, skin flushed from a hot shower, and there’s a casual confidence in her stride that punches the air out of my lungs.

I do a full double-take before I can stop myself. What is she wearing?

What in the ancients is wrong with me?

I cough into my bottle and pretend to stare hard at my cards. My ears are hot, by the stars, I think I’m blushing. I do not blush. I'm a bear, not a teenage boy at prom.

She stands all smooth, chocolate skin and towering height, every curve and line honed into deadly perfection. Her full lips rest in that no-nonsense Master Sergeant set, yet when she smiles, stars ignite in my chest and my knees go weak. The sides of her head are shaved tight while braids crown the top, each intricate twist matching the fierce attitude she wears. Her wide, deep brown eyes take everything in with laser focus.

She strides over and delivers a sharp rap on Jax’s skull, her voice clipped and businesslike, though the corner of her mouth twitches with barely restrained amusement. “Dude, get some sleep. We’ve got a few hours before mission time.”

“Aaah, Sarge,” Jax groans dramatically, rubbing his head. “But I’m kicking Ted’s ass! He’s been grumbling and losing all night.”

“Ted?” I grunt, raising an eyebrow.

Makini doesn’t even look at me. “You growl at everyone and hate clothes. What would you call you?” Bellamy’s snort nearly sends his cards flying, and Koda mutters, “She’s not wrong.”

I try to glare at all of them, but end up fixing my eyes on Makini again.

Big mistake.

She’s already halfway across the room, stretching like it's no big deal, arms up, back arching, stars above. I’m going to have to run twenty laps and maybe headbutt a tree to get this image out of my brain. The ancients alone know where this obsession began, but I can’t rein it in. My eyes always follow her every move. And despite what others say, I don’t hate humans. Not all of them. Definitely not her. Watching her on the battlefield is like witnessing a living masterpiece, and when she lets her guard down a bit, like tonight, she becomes pure perfection. She drops into a chair, steals one of Jax’s cards, and grins.

“Also, I totally would’ve flanked you two out on the field earlier if I wasn’t covering Pan. Sloppy work on the truck approach.”

I clear my throat. “Noted.”

I put my beer down so hard, I’m sure the glass cracks, but I’m playing it off nonchalantly so that no one notices. Not a chance.

She glances at me then, just a flicker, and I swear my heart forgets what rhythm is. I look away, trying to collect myself, but catch Koda’s eye instead. The little s**t smirks at me knowingly.

This is a problem. A big, leggy, sarcastic, ridiculously distracting problem. And I am so, so screwed.

And she hates me passionately. Not just distrust, hate. Passionate, earned, and deserved. And I don’t blame her.

After everything I put Sasha through… the way I treated her when she first arrived, like she was the enemy, like she had anything to do with the hell the NNA put us through. And it didn’t stop with her. I tossed all of them, her, Makini, those SEALs, into the same pit, like they were all cut from the same poisoned cloth.

But they weren’t. They aren’t.

I was just so damn angry. Still am, sometimes. All the time actually. Anger’s been my default setting for a while now.

At the General. At the system. At the loss. At how powerless I felt when we lost everything.

But it was easier to lash out at the people in front of me than deal with the root of it. Easier to blame the humans than face the truth that we were shattered, broken by a war we didn’t start. That I couldn’t protect my people. That I failed.

Suppressed trauma, the docs would probably call it. I call it being a coward.

So I snarled, growled, barked, and pushed everyone away. Me, the shifter everyone once called Care Bear. The big soft-hearted protector. Now just a walking storm cloud. A bear that never stops growling.

And Makini? She saw it all. Took the hits I threw with those cold eyes and that steel spine. Never backed down, never flinched.

And now she won’t even look at me the same. And I get it. I really do.

But damn if it doesn’t sting like hell.