49. Mai

T he familiar scent of coffee and aged wood hit me as I stepped into Bottley Bar. Despite the lingering traces of the fight with Korrin, the place was already starting to feel like home again. The shattered windows had been replaced, the broken glass swept away, but the scars of the fight could still be seen in the splintered tables and torn upholstery.

I let my gaze wander over the people here, my family, my Pack, and my heart swelled with a mixture of pride and sorrow. Ryan stood beside me, his arm draped possessively over my uninjured shoulder, holding me close. Me and my wolf felt calmer, felt safe, when he was touching me, and we hadn't stopped touching each other since we left the forest; it was like we needed to be sure that the other one was still there, still alive.

After we burned the dead bodies and loaded our survivors into cars and vans to take them back to Three Rivers, Ryan and I had gone home to meet Talia and give her a debrief. Talia had been all business, but the more we talked, the more unhappy she became, especially when we told her we thought Brock was right, and he did have someone working for him on the Council. We'd left her behind to make a few phone calls, while we came down here to check on everyone.

They were all here. The Shaw brothers: the twins, Derek and Sam, along with their older brother Mason, were huddled together in a corner, their heads bent close as they spoke in hushed tones. They'd come out of the battle with deep cuts and some impressive bruises, but nothing that wouldn't heal in their next Shift. Sofia was passing round drinks, her fiery curls pulled back into a messy ponytail. I could see the purple shadow of a bruise on her throat, and a bandage wrapped round one thigh. She wasn't limping, though.

Ava was standing by the bar, looking pale and drawn, her arm in a sling. I could smell her grief from here; she had been the closest to Raphael. Evelyn hovered protectively nearby, her dark brown hair plaited down her back. She had a nasty gash above her left eye, but her posture was straight and proud.

Jase was sitting at the bar. He'd found some paper and coloring pens, and him and Ben seemed to be drawing themselves playing some sort of soccer match. Amara kept shooting wary glances at Jase. He was in for a bumpy ride if he ever decided he wanted to date Amara again.

"Fuck off, Jase! I'd win with a header right to the middle of the goal!"

"Stop swearing!" both Jase and Amara said at the same time, and I couldn't help but smile.

Wally, alive but with a broken collarbone, stood next to a protective Thomas, deep in conversation with the remaining Renegades. The group looked battered and weary, but there was an undeniable sense of camaraderie among them. We had gone through the fire together and survived.

Jem was slumped in a corner. He hadn't spoken a word since he killed Brock. Thomas said Jem needed rest, but none of us thought leaving Jem alone right now was a good idea. Close by was Esme. She had declared that as Jem was now her brother, she would be looking after him from now on. I didn't know how to respond to that. I wasn't sure what I had done giving Esme our name, but I couldn't worry about that for now. Today, I just wanted to celebrate that we were alive.

I looked up at Ryan and nodded to his brothers. I knew he wanted to go over there, to make sure they were okay. He needed this. He kissed the end of my nose, his arm tightening for a moment, before letting go and heading for his brothers. I made my way over to Sofia. She was absently running her finger along the edge of her glass, her eyes distant.

"The bar's looking good. We'll get it all fixed up, I promise."

Sofia nodded. "Derek's been helping. He sneaks in during the night. I come down every morning and his scent is everywhere, and more things are fixed." She gestured to the bar, where a section of the countertop had been skillfully mended, the new wood blending seamlessly with the old. "He repaired this where it had been split during the fight. And you see those shelves?" She pointed to the wall behind the bar, where the once-shattered shelves now stood straight and sturdy, the bottles and glasses neatly arranged. "He rebuilt them entirely, even added some extra support to make sure they wouldn't collapse again. It's not just the big things, either. He fixed the hinges on the kitchen door, replaced the broken tiles in the bathroom, even patched up the holes in the drywall. It's like he's determined to erase every trace of the damage, to put everything back the way it was."

"He's doing it for you."

Sofia made a face. "But why?"

"You know why," I said softly.

Sofia shook her head vehemently. "Are you kidding, chickie? Derek blew it. There's no way I'm letting him anywhere near my heart again. Knowing him, he'll just stomp all over it again."

I studied her for a moment, taking in the stubborn set of her jaw and the hurt that lingered in her eyes. "Do you know why he did it the first time?"

Sofia kept her gaze fixed on the contents of her glass. "No, and no matter how many shelves he rebuilds, I have no interest in hearing his excuses."

The door swung open, the bell jingling, and Talia strode in. Conversations died down as all eyes turned to her. She looked around, her gaze assessing, ignored everyone else, and marched over to me. Ryan was by my side before she got there.

"Mai Parker, Ryan Shaw, I have finished my report on the events here. You'll be pleased to hear that our sources confirm that with Brock dead and the ripple lab destroyed, the ripple crisis in the northeast has been shut down, for now," she announced, her voice carrying across the room. "You will still need to ferret out some remaining pockets, but for now, things are looking hopeful."

Ryan smiled down at me, relief on his face. "That we can do. We're getting good at ferreting out secrets."

"Very well. I will be taking Brock's surviving Pack members to Adarcan prison for questioning. We need to find out everything they know about the operation and any other players involved. Especially the witches. The Council's top priority now is to track down the witches involved in this. To that end, I request a meeting with your witch, Esme Parker, to ascertain what she knows."

"A meeting or an interrogation?" I asked.

Talia considered me for a moment. "A meeting. You are welcome to be there as well." The words came out from between her clenched teeth, but I appreciated the gesture. Maybe she had learned from how she had dealt with us before and was trying something new.

I smiled. "Good. I'll ask Esme. If she agrees, then we'll set it up."

"Very well then, I'll return in three days to pick up Sam and have this meeting," she nodded her head at me before I could clarify, "if Esme agrees to it."

Then her gaze fell on Sam. "Sam Shaw, be ready. For you, this is just the beginning. Ripple is still spreading in the rest of the continent; the witches are plotting with people on the Council; Shifters are getting addicted to the drug and breaking their bond with the Packs; and we need to put a stop to it all."

Sam grinned his cheeky grin. "I can't wait, Talia.

Talia nodded, then without another word, she turned on her heel and left; the door closing behind her with a decisive click.

I couldn't say I wasn't happy as fuck to see her go, even if she was going to be back in three days.

As the room began to buzz with conversation once more, I noticed Mason slip outside, his phone pressed to his ear.

Ryan's arms snaked around my waist, pulling me close. His warmth seeped into my skin, and I melted into his embrace, the tension of the past few days slowly ebbing away .

"So, Mai Parker, what adventure would you like to go on tomorrow?" he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear.

I turned in his arms, looping my own around his neck. "Honestly? All I want is a week in bed with you. No interruptions, no crisis, just your naked body doing delicious things to me."

A slow, wicked grin spread across Ryan's face. "I think I can arrange that."

Heat bloomed low in my belly, desire coursing through my veins. My skin tingled with anticipation, and I almost had to bite back a moan. We'd have to have the puppy conversation sooner rather than later, but right now I just wanted to enjoy my mate, to have him entirely focused on me and me alone.

"Ryan!" Mason called, his voice strained and full of fury.

We both turned to look at him. Mason's eyes were wild, his chest heaving as if he'd run a long way.

"It's that fuckhead, Tristan," Mason spat, the name like venom on his tongue. "He used the battle as a distraction to attack the Bridgetown Pack."

My blood ran cold, a sense of dread settling in the pit of my stomach. "What happened?" I asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Mason's hands clenched into fists at his sides, his knuckles turning white. "Michael's dead. And Tristan...he's taken Shya."