The Beta's Blood: Rewritten

Chapter Twelve

The days after Felix left moved strangely. Too slow on the outside, too loud on the inside. Silence filled Jean’s cabin in a way Ace wasn’t used to. Not the peaceful, content kind of quiet, but the kind that echoed.

Every time she reached for her phone, every time she turned to make a comment, every time she heard a car crunching up the gravel road and hoped, stupidly, that it was him turning back, reality settled like a stone in her chest.

He was gone. And she was still here. She smiled for her grandmother. She helped with dishes. She laughed when Jean made a teasing comment about the young patrol warriors. But her smiles were thin. Paper over cracked glass. One wrong question and it would all spiderweb.

She missed him. She missed them. Emily’s easy chatter. Max’s dry humor. Aaron’s obnoxious brotherly warmth. Even Jameson’s stupid, reckless, commanding wolf. The Jameson she knew before the mate bond. Her life had been noisy, crowded, full. Now it was wide and open and quiet and… unfamiliar.

She was grateful to be safe, but she was still lonely. Ace sat at Jean’s kitchen table that morning, staring at a plate she hadn’t touched. Weak, pale gold light filtered through the frosted windows, painting the old wood in honey. The cabin smelled like coffee and woodsmoke and the faint, sweet scent of yeast. Jean had baked bread at dawn, humming to herself like the world was simple.

“You coming with me to the garden today, sweetheart?” Jean asked, pouring another cup of coffee for herself. Her voice was warm. Sunlight in human form. Ace forced herself to look up. “Yeah. I’ll go, Grandma.” The words were small, but real. That counted.

Jean smiled, the kind of proud, pleased smile that said good, you’re still trying. “Perfect. Meet me at the car when you’re ready.” When Jean left the kitchen, Ace let her shoulders sag. She stared at her reflection in the dark coffee. Her eyes looked tired. Dull. Not the bright green she remembered. Her wolf paced restlessly under her skin, irritated, missing its people, its mate, even if the bond was supposed to be broken.

Push forward, her father’s voice whispered in her memory, sharp as ever. You don’t get to fall apart. So she pushed. She got dressed in ripped jeans, a cropped top that left her shoulders bare, boots, and a loose braid over her collarbone.

She paused in the mirror. The girl looking back at her looked older than she had a month ago. Not because of age, but because of knowing. Because reality had gotten sharper. Then she grabbed her jacket and stepped out into the cool mountain morning.

The drive down from the cabin took them through the heart of Winter Moon’s territory. Clean roads, pine forest, small clusters of houses built in long, narrow rows against the mountain. The pack was organized, tidy. It didn’t feel like Red Forest, where everything revolved around the Alpha. Here, it felt… shared.

The greenhouse lot was already alive when they pulled in. Three massive glass buildings sat side by side, shimmering beneath the sun like great crystal shells. Beside them, a fenced-off playground rang with the shrieks and laughter of pups. Mothers sat nearby on benches, watching, talking, trading gossip.

Ace’s chest tightened. Will I ever have that? A mate. A pup. A normal day surrounded by family and loved ones. She shoved the thought down before it could unravel her.

Inside the third greenhouse, warm, humid air wrapped around her. The smell of damp soil and growing things was thick, earthy, and comforting. Sun spilled through the glass ceiling, painting the rows in light.

Ace shrugged off her jacket, letting the warmth touch her skin. Jean moved easily through the space, waving at the other women already working. “Why this greenhouse?” Ace asked, trailing her.

“This one’s mine,” Jean said with a little lift of pride in her tone. “Well, ours. The district’s.” “District?” Ace frowned. “Like… regions?” Jean nodded. “We rotate labor. Crops, pups, weapons, patrol. Everyone does something. Everyone eats. We don’t let people disappear into their houses here.”

That was… new. In Red Forest, if you weren’t Alpha blood or warrior class, you were background noise. Here the elder she-wolves were treated like pillars, not burdens.

They started working. Fingers in soil. Sun on their backs. Elder women laughing about old mates and new pups. Someone brought out a crate of strawberries and set it right in the middle of the aisle. People grabbed one or two and kept working. No one hoarded. No one snapped.

Ace picked tomatoes for the first time in her life. Real, sun-warmed tomatoes, slick and red and smelling of summer. She plucked eggplants, their skins glossy and purple. She pulled peppers from their vines, their bright colors stunning against the green. It was simple work, real work, the kind you finished and saw a result from.

It calmed her. By the time they’d filled three baskets and loaded them onto a little rolling cart, Ace’s muscles ached but it was a good ache. Earned. They wheeled the harvest toward the community center, a large, lodge-like building at the edge of the lot. Inside, it was chaos in the best way, with laughter, kids running, someone mopping, someone sorting clothes, a television quietly playing the news in the background.

“Well, hello!” a bright voice rang. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Jessica. I work the front desk here.” Jessica was young, mid-twenties, her hair in a messy bun, a baby spit-up stain on her shoulder she hadn’t noticed yet. Her smile was so open, Ace couldn’t help but mirror it.

“Hi. I’m Ace. Jean’s granddaughter.” “Oh!” Jessica lit up. “You’re Ace. She’s been talking about you nonstop. ‘My granddaughter this,’ ‘my granddaughter that.’ I was starting to think you were imaginary.” Ace laughed, really laughed, for the first time in weeks.

A small child zoomed past just then, almost taking Ace out at the knees. Jessica spun. “Letta! Outside if you’re going to run!” “Sorry!” the girl called without slowing down. Jessica rolled her eyes. “That one’s mine. And I’ve got a newborn at home. So if I look half awake… I am.” She grinned, rubbing her forehead. “Do not have two under five. 0/10. Would not recommend.”

Ace chuckled. “I don’t think I’ll have one anytime soon.” Jessica’s eyes softened. “You’re young. There’s time.” They fell into easy banter, about pups with too much energy, about late-night feedings, about shows to watch when you’re stuck on bedrest. It felt natural. Like Ace had known her for years. Like she hadn’t just come here running from a bond that wouldn’t seem to die.

“Mitchell Robinson, you get over here and help me carry this basket!” a voice boomed from behind them. Ace turned to see a woman in a green sweater, hair pulled into a loose ponytail, hands on her hips. A lanky teenage boy, fourteen, maybe trudged back toward her, shoulders slumped dramatically. Ace covered her mouth to hide a laugh.

“Kids these days, I swear,” the woman muttered as she came to stand next to Ace. Then her eyes landed fully on Ace’s face. “Oh, you must be Jean’s granddaughter. She’s told us so much.” “I’m Ace,” she confirmed, warmth flooding her at how easily people here accepted her.

“I’m Gloria. This disaster is Mitchell,” she said, jerking a thumb at the boy, who was now trying to pawn a basket of folded clothes off on Jessica. “For the community closet,” Jessica reminded him pointedly. He rolled his eyes like every teenager in every pack ever, ditched the basket and bolted out the side door toward his friends.

Gloria sighed. “He saw the other boys playing Football. You should come see them play in the fall,” she told Ace. “He’s on the high school team. He thinks he’s already in the NFL.” Ace smiled, watching the way Gloria’s irritation melted into pride as she spoke of her son.

“I might. I’ve never actually watched a game.” “Then you must,” Gloria said firmly. “We make it a whole thing. Food, blankets, cheering. The Alpha even shows sometimes.” Ace’s brows flicked up. An Alpha who goes to high school games? That was still wild to her.

“So how do you like it here?” Gloria asked, leaning in. Jessica leaned in, too, clearly invested. Ace glanced around. Kids ran in and out with boots tracking mud. Men carried in crates. Two older she-wolves argued affectionately over the correct way to fold towels. Someone laughed in the office.

No one was yelling. No one was afraid to speak. No one bowed their head when another walked by. “It’s… beautiful,” Ace said at last. “And everyone’s so friendly.” Gloria’s smile softened. “Good. It can be overwhelming at first. But you’ll find your rhythm.” “I hope so,” Ace murmured.

“Hey!” came another familiar voice. Jean appeared in the doorway, cheeks flushed from the cold, gray hair tucked under a head scarf. “I got tired of waiting in the car,” she said, amused. “Seems you’ve already made friends.”

Jessica waved. “We love her. She’s staying, right?” Jean chuckled. “That depends on Ace. And on Alpha Kai.” She tapped Ace’s arm. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get some air before lunch.”

They said their goodbyes, promises to see each other again, to come to the football game, to join the pup playgroup “just to help.” Ace stepped back out into the mountain sunlight with her grandmother, baskets handed off, hands finally free.

“See?” Jean said, eyes sparkling. “I told you it wouldn’t be so bad.” Ace nodded, and for the first time in days, the smile that lifted her mouth wasn’t forced. “It wasn’t.” “You’ve got friends already,” Jean said, proud. “That’s important. You can’t heal in a corner.”

Ace swallowed. The words struck something deep. She thought of Felix. Of his kiss. Of the way he’d said I can’t be with you. She thought of Jameson his desperation, his hands on her face, his don’t leave me. She thought of Emily, Max, Aaron, her parents. Her chest still ached.

But now, the ache didn’t swallow the whole of her. Because here, there was also warm bread. And giggling pups. And women who didn’t know her history but welcomed her anyway. And an Alpha who said stay as long as you need. And a grandmother who held her hand like she was still eight years old.

Maybe this was what she needed. Not a sweeping, instant fix. Not some grand, star-crossed gesture. Just… small things. Small mornings. Small friendships. Small moments of laughter she didn’t have to apologize for.

She exhaled slowly, letting the mountain breeze kiss her face. “Come on,” Jean said, slipping her hand into Ace’s. “The wind is good today. It’ll clear your head.” Ace squeezed her grandmother’s hand back.

For the first time since she’d left home, since she’d fled the lake house, since she’d watched Felix walk away, since she’d felt her mate begging through wolfsbane, Ace let herself imagine a future here. Not a forever, maybe. But a for now.

A life built in quiet ways. In greenhouses and market days. In slow healing instead of painful cutting. And somewhere, in the far back of her mind, buried but not dead, the bond still hummed but not as terribly as before.

Jameson was out there. Her old life was still spinning. But for once, Ace didn’t feel like she was being dragged behind it. She was walking. On her own two feet. In a place that might, just might, let her belong.