Seth, as bizarre as it was, only seemed to respond to Daniel. Nobody else.

“He’ll be okay,” Eli muttered to me.

“I know he will, but I don’t like it.”

“Me either,” my elder brother admitted. “Me either.”

“We don’t have much choice,” Ethan rasped as we all watched Sabina bend over to hug Daniel tight. She squeezed him harder than any of us did, and to be honest, I envied her the tears she willingly shed.

Daniel didn’t seem too upset by the situation, not like I’d imagined he’d be, especially when I’d seen his terror when Todd had come sniffing around, trying to get him tossed out of the pack. But then, I guessed this was a kind of relief. He would still be with a pack, it just wouldn’t be us.

Maybe he thought it was an adventure.

Or, maybe the little dude knew this was his duty.

The shit we did for the Mother. Christ.

When Daniel pulled back, he gently patted Sabina’s cheek, and with small fingers, rubbed her tears away. Berry, behind him, yipped, then nuzzled into the kid’s side. She’d started hanging around the packhouse again, gradually spending more time with us, but she hadn’t slept inside since Lara’s arrival. As she played with Daniel, her twins made an appearance, dancing around him too, making him laugh.

When he’d stopped giggling, he said, “Sabina?”

“What is it, love?”

“During my covenant, the Mother told me to tell you something about Berry.”

She arched a brow. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t know how to, but now, I have to tell you before I go.”

“What did the Mother tell you to tell me?”

His voice grew a little distant, and I knew he was going to repeat what he’d heard, word for word, “She is unable to shift now. There is no malice to her actions. She serves Sabina, and is my means of protecting her. Nothing more, nothing less. She serves out of love for all her sons, and out of a desire to seek forgiveness.” He blinked at me. “I think that’s everything she said.”

“You did well,” she murmured, surging forward to hug him but I knew his words would be re-examined after he’d left. “You’re going to call me at least twice a week, aren’t you? I want to know everything. And I want to know how you’re getting on at school, because if you don’t study, then I’ll be flying down there to make sure you’re learning everything you need to.”

He grinned. “Well, if you want to visit me, I’ll just stop doing my homework.”

A chuckle escaped her as she got to her feet, tugging him into her once more for another squeeze. “Don’t be cheeky.”

Daniel mumbled, “But it’s fun.”

She gulped, pressed a kiss to his head, and whispered, “I know. I’m going to miss you, sweetheart.”

“I’m going to miss you too,” he agreed, but he still sounded chirpy. “But it’s okay. When I come back, I know everything will be in place.”

“What’s ‘everything’?” she asked warily.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. But I’m doing this for a reason, aren’t I? I figure I’ll find out when I’m old enough.” Daniel gave her one last hug. “Sabina?” She hummed. “I love you.”

“Love you, too, baby,” she rasped, and with a quick peep at us, he darted away from her and headed to the SUV.

I bit my lip as I watched Yardley drive him and his boy away, slowly down the drive at first and out toward the main road.

The supernaturals, led by Berry, started howling as he left, and I saw him twist around to watch. His face was turned toward the house until Yardley had to take the turn off, and just before I caught the last sight of him, our gazes connected and held.

Until we were broken apart.

I blew out a breath, but was unsurprised when Sabina started bawling her eyes out and she threw herself at me and Eli. We both moved to shield her, but there was little use.

Everything happened for a reason, just like Daniel had said. But we were as in the dark as him as to what those reasons would be.

In the interim, we had to live our lives. Had to tend to our family, watch it grow, watch Maribel birth the Sun Child, when the dawn of a new day would rise.

We didn’t know when that would be, and to be honest, I didn’t want to know.

I just wanted to hold onto my mate, all while making sure Knight was ready for whatever was thrown his and his own mate’s way when the time came.

Because the one certainty in this life wasn’t death, nor was it taxes.

It was that the time would come.

It always did.

And the clock never stopped ticking. Not for anyone.

Man, beast, or spirit.

Nineteen

Lara

Three months later

There was knowing everything, there was having an internal filing system in one’s cerebellum, and then there was listening to your mother talk about sex.

I felt like a child again as I squirmed, utterly uncomfortable with the conversation, though Sabina didn’t appear to be. If anything, she was relaxed, her back against the sofa, the phone in between us as we spoke to the woman both of us called mother and who didn’t deserve the label.

“I-I thought I was going crazy,” Catharina whispered, her voice low like she had to watch herself just in case someone was listening in.

I sent Sabina a look, saw her lips twitch before she asked, “You weren’t.”

“Who was he?” I asked, even though I didn’t need to know my biological father’s identity to recognize he was a low life I didn’t need polluting my air. Still, a girl had to ask, didn’t she?

I had a family that mattered now. Sabina, her mates, Knight. Then there was Todd and his grandparents who were finally starting to like me—not just accept me as his mate, but appreciate me as a person.

Life was good.

So, asking about my father was merely token. Something I should ask, not something I needed to know.

“I don’t know his name. Draga never warned me.” Her voice waned before she sputtered, “Did you know he bit me? Hard enough to scar. Why do you always think I wear that scarf?”

“Because I thought father asked you to,” was Sabina’s reply. Then, she surprised me by being a little cold as she said, “That’s what you always did. He told you to jump, so you jumped.”

Silence fell at that, then she hissed, “If you’re going to be mean, then I’ll put the phone down.”

She pursed her lips. “If being mean involves speaking the truth, then by all means, put the phone down.”

A second later, we heard the dialing tone.

“Guilt,” she declared coolly as she wiggled her foot, dangling it and her shoe as she crossed her legs.

“She was a shit mother,” I agreed.

“The shittiest.”

“I don’t know why you needed to talk to her.”

I held out my hand at Todd’s words, beckoning him to me. He’d been listening in, standing at the fireplace in the family living room of the Highbanks’ packhouse, watching on with disapproval.