Don't Call Me Luna

Chapter Fourteen

KAT

Coming Home

The doorknob turns, and my heart stops.

Dave steps into his trailer carrying gear that looks like preparation for war, his presence filling the space in ways that make the air itself feel charged. He freezes when he sees me sitting in his chair, surrounded by evidence of feelings he's documented but never confessed.

"Kat."

"Harold let me in."

We stare at each other across three feet of Harold's former living space and eleven days of accumulated trust that crumbled faster than I thought possible. Dave looks different—not just the physical changes that come with accepting alpha nature, but something deeper. More settled. Like he's finally stopped pretending to be someone he isn't.

"You read my notes."

"I read everything." I gesture toward the papers scattered across his desk. "Pack assessments, territorial defense plans, intelligence files on Morrison pack. You've been busy."

"I've been preparing."

"For war."

"For whatever comes next."

He sets down his gear with careful precision, body armor and medical supplies that suggest someone planning to survive tonight's challenges rather than simply endure them. The sight should be reassuring, but it makes my wolf pace with anxiety that tastes like copper.

"You lied to me." The words come out sharper than intended, carrying fourteen years of betrayal and disappointment. "For eleven days, you let me believe you were something you're not."

"I never lied."

"Bullshit. You pretended to be beta when you're alpha. That's lying."

Dave's jaw tightens, and for the first time since I've known him, I see something that looks like anger flicker behind his eyes. "I've been pretending to be beta for twenty-nine years. Not just to you."

"Why?"

"Because I grew up watching my family tear itself apart over alpha bullshit. My father, my brothers, constantly fighting over territory, dominance, who gets to make decisions. Everything became a competition, a power struggle. I didn't want any part of it."

The raw honesty in his voice stops my building rage cold. "So you just... decided not to be alpha?"

"I decided not to act like one. Figured if I kept my head down, stayed out of pack politics, I could avoid becoming another Westwood asshole who thinks might makes right."

"But you are alpha."

"Yeah. I am. And pretending otherwise nearly got ninety-seven people killed because I was too much of a coward to embrace what I actually am."

The admission hangs between us like confession and condemnation combined. I study his face, looking for deception and finding only exhausted honesty.

"Dave."

"I know you're angry. I know you feel betrayed. But everything I told you about caring for this pack, about wanting to protect what you've built—that was real. That was never a lie."

"How do I know the difference?"

"Because if this was some elaborate Council manipulation, would I be about to risk my life fighting two alphas who could tear me apart?"

The question hits harder than expected. He's right—if Dave was just playing politics, he'd find safer ways to achieve Council objectives. He wouldn't be preparing for combat trials that could end with his death.

"Colton Walker and Beauregard Remington aren't just traditional alphas," I tell him, needing him to understand the scope of what he's facing. "They live and breathe alpha culture. Dominance is religion to them, and female pack leaders are heresy that needs correction."

His jaw tightens, but his voice stays calm. "I know."

"Do you? Do you really understand what you're walking into tonight?" I stand, needing movement to channel energy that threatens to consume me from the inside out. "These aren't Council bureaucrats who'll be satisfied with paperwork and proper procedure. They're predators who see killing you as pest control."

"Kat."

"I'm serious. Beauregard's killed three alphas in territorial disputes. Colton's pack runs like military dictatorship where questioning authority gets you exiled or worse."

"I know what they are."

"Then why are you so calm about fighting them?"

Dave moves closer, and I catch his scent—sawdust and safety and something indefinably male that makes my traitorous body respond despite everything that's happened between us. He stops just outside touching distance, close enough that I can see gold flecks in his blue eyes.

"Because I know what I'm protecting."

The simple answer cuts through my panic like blade through fog. Not arrogance or false confidence, just absolute certainty about what matters most.

"They could kill you."

"They could try."

"This isn't a joke."

"No, it's not. But neither is what you've built here. Neither are the ninety-seven people who trust you to keep them safe."

His voice carries authority that's new since filing alpha registration, but underneath I hear something familiar. The same protective instinct that drove him to stand between me and Dirk Morrison, to spend two days fortifying our home, to research every threat we might face.

"You're scared I'll die tonight."

"I'm terrified you'll die tonight."

"So you do care about me."

The teasing note in his voice makes me want to hit him and kiss him in equal measure. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't make jokes about this. Don't act like your death would be some minor inconvenience I'd get over."

Dave's expression shifts, humor fading into something more serious. "Suzy."

My real name in his mouth still feels like claiming territory, like stepping across boundaries we've both been dancing around for days.

"What?"

"I'm not planning to die tonight."

"Plans change."

"Some things don't." He reaches up, traces my cheek with fingers that still carry faint luminescence from his blessed nature. "Some things are worth fighting for. Worth living for."

The touch sends electricity straight through my nervous system, making my wolf whine with need I've been ignoring since our kitchen confrontation. When he cups my face, I lean into the contact despite every defensive instinct screaming at me to pull away.

"I built this place fourteen years ago." The words come out without conscious permission. "Found a condemned trailer park where cult members killed themselves rather than face deprogramming. Nobody wanted the land because of what happened here, so I claimed it. Fixed it up piece by piece until it could house people who had nowhere else to go."

"I know."

"Do you? Do you understand what it means to build family from ninety-seven different kinds of broken?"

"I'm starting to."

"Then you understand why I can't lose it. Why I can't lose them. Why I can't..."

"Can't what?"

"Can't lose you."

The admission hangs between us like confession and capitulation combined. Dave's thumb traces my cheekbone, gentle as butterfly wings and twice as devastating.

"You're not going to lose me."

"You don't know that."

"I know I'll fight harder to come home to you than I've ever fought for anything."

"Dave."

"What?"

"If you die tonight, I'll never forgive you."

His laugh rumbles through his chest, vibrating against my palm where I've apparently placed it without conscious thought. "If I die tonight, forgiveness will be the least of my concerns."

"I'm serious."

"So am I. Which is why I'm not planning to die."

The space between us disappears like it never existed. When his forehead touches mine, we're sharing breath and possibilities and the kind of desperate hope that rewrites your understanding of what matters most.

"I'm sorry." The words come out broken, honest. "For accusing you of manipulation. For telling you to leave. For being too scared to trust that someone might actually want to protect what I've built instead of taking it away."

"I'm sorry too. For not telling you the truth from the beginning. For letting you think I was something I'm not."

"You are what you are. Beta, alpha, whatever—you're the man who sees value in broken things. Who builds instead of breaks. Who makes people feel like they matter."

Dave's hands frame my face, thumbs tracing patterns that make my wolf purr with contentment. "Suzy."

"Yeah?"

"I love you. Not as your alpha, not as Council representative, just as the man who can't imagine his life without you in it."

"I love you too. Which is why I'm going with you tonight."

He pulls back, studying my face with intensity that makes my skin burn. "What?"

"To the challenge. I'm going with you."

"Absolutely not."

"You don't get to make that decision."

"It's too dangerous."

"Everything we do is dangerous. Everything we've built exists because we're willing to fight for it."

"Kat."

"Don't 'Kat' me. You're fighting for my pack. The least I can do is be there to watch you win."

"Harold." Dave's voice carries new authority, alpha command that makes even ghosts pay attention. "Privacy, please."

Harold's translucent form flickers with what might be amusement before fading into whatever dimensional pocket he calls home. The trailer suddenly feels more intimate, charged with possibility and the memory of our last kiss.

"You kicked out my ghost chaperone."

"Your ghost chaperone was cockblocking."

"Harold doesn't have a cock."

"Semantics."

Dave's mouth finds mine before I can come up with suitably sarcastic response. The kiss starts gentle, questioning, then ignites into something that could power the entire compound. He tastes like possibilities and promises, like everything I've been afraid to want since the night he walked into my compound carrying cupcakes and good intentions.

This time when his hands map territory I haven't allowed anyone to explore, I don't pull away. His fingers tangle in my hair, tilting my head back so he can deepen the kiss. I make a sound that's part moan, part surrender, and feel him smile against my mouth.

"Suzy."

"Shut up and kiss me."

He does, backing me against his desk until papers scatter to the floor. His body presses against mine, solid and warm and absolutely real. When his mouth moves to my neck, finding that spot that makes me see stars, I have to grip his shoulders to stay upright.

"Dave."

"What?"

"When you come back tonight—"

"When?"

"When you come back, we're going to finish what we started in the kitchen."

His laugh vibrates against my throat. "Is that a promise?"

"That's a guarantee."

He pulls back, studying my face with the kind of hunger that makes my blood sing. "When I come back, we're going to have a conversation about what happens next."

"What kind of conversation?"

"The kind that involves you admitting you're falling for me as hard as I'm falling for you. The kind that talks about futures and pack leadership and whether you're ready to share authority with someone who loves you."

The words should terrify me. Should trigger every defensive mechanism I've built over fourteen years of protecting what matters most. Instead, they feel like relief.

"And if you don't come back?"

"Then you'll know I died fighting for the right to have that conversation."

A knock at the door interrupts before I can respond. Cheryl's voice carries through the thin walls with the authority of someone who's made decisions.

"Dave? We're coming with you."

"We who?"

"Me, Tommy, Uncle Hiro, Eddie, Margot, and Methany. Pack supports pack."

Dave looks at me with expression that suggests he's been outmaneuvered by people more stubborn than he anticipated. "This wasn't the plan."

"Plans change," I tell him. "Sometimes family decides to show up whether you want them to or not."

He opens the door to find six of my most trusted pack members standing on his makeshift porch, dressed for travel and carrying expressions that brook no argument.

"You can't all come," Dave protests. "It's too dangerous."

"More dangerous than staying here when Morrison pack decides to make their move?" Tommy adjusts his glasses with the calm logic of someone who's thought this through. "At least in Lexington, we're all together."

"The compound needs protection."

"The compound has sixty-seven adults with various combat skills and enough firepower to hold off a small army," Cheryl replies. "What it doesn't have is its alpha and beta in the same place to coordinate defense."

Uncle Hiro steps forward with the kind of presence that makes even alphas listen. "Dave. Some battles are fought alone. This isn't one of them."

"Pack supports pack," Eddie adds, his anxiety channeled into protective determination. "You fight for us, we stand with you."

Methany appears behind them wearing what looks like a colander hat and carrying a bag that probably contains chemistry experiments masquerading as moral support. "Besides, someone needs to document this s**t for historical purposes. Also, I brought snacks."

Dave looks at me with the expression of someone who's discovering that leading a pack means accepting support whether you want it or not.

"This is insane."

"This is family," I tell him. "And family shows up."

He studies the faces gathered at his door—people who've chosen to risk their safety to support someone they've known less than two weeks. People who understand that sometimes love means standing together even when everything could go wrong.

"Fine. But everyone follows orders. No heroics, no improvisation, no chemistry experiments without prior approval."

"Deal," Cheryl says for all of us.

Dave gathers his gear and heads for the door, moving with purpose that suggests someone who's made peace with whatever comes next. At the threshold, he pauses, looking back at me.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

We file out into Kentucky evening that tastes like possibilities and endings combined. In a few hours, Dave will face two alphas who see his existence as insult to natural order. He'll fight for the right to protect people who've found sanctuary in the spaces between legal and necessary.

And this time, he won't face it alone.