Chapter 3

Ronan

Halfway to the massive retail outpost on the edge of Silverpine, Annie woke with a sharp, distressed yip that sliced straight through my chest like a silver blade.

My wolf surged forward instantly, claws itching at my fingertips as I gripped the steering wheel hard enough to make the leather creak. The sound of her tiny cry shredded something primal inside me. I’d been a sire for barely two hours, and already my instincts screamed to protect, to soothe, to claim this little pup as a pack.

I had no map for this. My own sire had been a rogue in every sense—a lone-wolf trucker who drifted between territories, drowning himself in moonshine whenever his rig rolled home.

He was never physically violent, but his temper was a wildfire after a few drinks. Nothing my sister Amanda and I did was ever enough, grades weren’t high enough. Our rooms weren’t clean enough, and Amanda was never strong enough in his eyes. I was never dominant enough. Mom was never obedient enough around the den.

We all secretly looked forward to the rumble of his truck fading into the distance. The house grew peaceful. Mom smiled more. We laughed without fear of snarls. When he finally left for good after one particularly ugly full-moon blowout, it felt like the pack bonds had been reset.

Mom held everything together on her own. Money was always tight in our small fringe pack, but I was grateful she stayed. Without her brother—Uncle Elias, a sharp-tongued lawyer on the Shifter Council—we never could’ve afforded the elite training camps and gear that got me noticed by the Moonfang Wolves scouts.

Hockey wasn’t cheap for a dominant wolf pup with too much energy and not enough guidance. But the first time I saw a league game on the pack’s old screen, I was hooked.

The speed, the bone-rattling checks, the territorial dominance under arena lights—it called to my wolf like the moon itself.

Uncle Elias had no pups of his own. He poured resources into my path without hesitation. I’d tried to repay him a hundred times since signing my first big contract, but the stubborn old wolf still refused every credit transfer. “Pay it forward to your own pack one day, Rogue,” he’d always growl.

Lila turned in the passenger seat, her soothing vanilla-and-pine scent wrapping around me like a calming ward.

She unbuckled without hesitation and scrambled between the front seats into the back, her lush hips brushing my shoulder as she moved. My wolf noticed. Too much. I forced my gaze forward, jaw tight, even as her warmth lingered.

“Ronan!” I barked, half-concerned, half-terrified she’d get hurt if I had to swerve. But she ignored me, already cooing softly to Annie.

“Shh, little moon. You’re safe. Mama Lila’s here,” she murmured, the words instinctive and perfect. Annie’s cries softened almost immediately into quiet whimpers, then nothing. My wolf preened at how naturally she handled my pup.

Some of the mated players on the team had litters, but I’d never paid close attention. Never thought I’d need to. A one-year-old wolf pup was a mystery—tiny shifts possible under stress or moonlight, sensitive noses, even sharper instincts than human babies.

“Is she okay?” I asked, unable to see clearly from the driver’s seat.

“She’s perfect,” Lila replied, voice warm with that same soothing tone. “Just startled from waking up in a strange den with strange scents. Isn’t that right, sweet girl?” Annie made a soft contented sound that melted the tension in my shoulders.

The dashboard screen lit up with an incoming call. Mom. I hadn’t even considered telling her she was a grandma now. A low groan escaped me. This conversation was going to be chaotic.

“No time like the present, Dad,” Lila teased gently from the back, her hand resting briefly on my bicep through the seat gap. The contact grounded me. “Rip off the band-aid.”

I answered on speaker. “Hey, Mom.”

“Hey, my strong wolf. Ready for the next territorial scrap?” It was our running joke. The Shifter Hockey League ran brutal—82 games across six months, plus playoffs where full moons turned rinks into battlegrounds. Whether we’d just won or lost, the next game loomed.

“Yeah, Mom. Always.” Silence stretched, heavy with things unsaid. She knew me too well.

“How much do you need this time, sweetheart? Mortgage again?”

I winced, neck heating with embarrassment. Lila was right here, human-adjacent but perceptive. I didn’t want to air the family’s dirty fur in front of her. “Mom… let me just buy the damn den outright so we stop this back-and-forth.”

“You know why I won’t let you.” Because if my sire didn’t have a mortgage tying him down, the moonshine and worse would swallow every credit. Mom still clung to the ghost of the wolf she’d fallen for decades ago. I sent money to her account only. Never his.

My shoulders tightened. The base of my neck ached with old pack wounds.

“Mom… there’s something else.” Before I could find the words—You’re a grandma, Surprise pup from a heat fling. I’m a sire now—Annie let out a loud, curious yip that the truck’s mic picked up clearly.

Silence. Then: “Is that a pup?”

“Yeah, Mom. That’s Annie…” I trailed off.

“Whose pup is that, Ronan Elias Blackthorn?” Full name. Never a good sign. I was fifteen again, getting the birds-and-howls talk after my first shift.

I sighed. Lila’s hand found my bicep again, steady and supportive. “Annie’s mine, Mom. I just got custody today. Didn’t know she existed until a couple of hours ago. Surprise.”

A piercing howl-scream ripped through the speakers. Lila instinctively reached back to cover Annie’s tiny ears. Then came the torrent—joy, shock, rapid questions about Cedar, about my readiness, about the pack house.

My mother’s love was fierce, but I had too much on my plate to manage her emotions on top of my own terror and the crushing instincts roaring to protect this new, fragile pack member.

“Mom, I gotta go. Call later when you’ve processed, alright? Love you.” I ended the call, exhaling heavily. Too old for this territorial family drama.

“Hand me your phone,” Lila called from the back, extending a hand between the seats.

“Why?”

“No grandma in the history of packs has ever resisted a picture of her grandpup. Send her one of Annie looking adorable. It’ll calm the storm.”

She had a point. I passed it back. Minutes later she returned it. She’d snapped a perfect shot of Annie’s peaceful face and already sent it to “Mom.”

“What if that hadn’t been my actual mother?”

“Do you save casual flings under ‘Mom’?”

I chuckled despite everything. “Touché.” Lila’s easy presence loosened the knot in my chest. My wolf liked her. A lot.

We pulled into the retail lot. I grabbed a cart, carefully nesting the car seat inside. Lila took another and texted me a massive list from her own phone while we walked.

Diapers. Wipes. Changing station. Formula. Bottles. Clothes. Toys. Crib. Highchair. Stroller. Baby bathtub. The list went on.

“Holy moon, pups need this much?” I muttered.

“They don’t need it all, but it makes territory establishment easier,” she said, walking beside me. Her scent mingled with mine in the cart’s space—comforting. Right.

“How do you know all this? Big family?”

“No, just an older brother—Sam. I’ve just always loved pups. They’re genuine. Pure. Haven’t learned how cruel territories can be yet.” Her voice softened with old sadness.

I frowned, wolf instincts flaring protectively. What shadows haunted her past? I wanted to know, to hunt down whatever had dimmed her light, but now wasn’t the time.

Annie watched us intently, green eyes darting between us. “She doesn’t talk yet, right?”

“Most basic words start around twelve to eighteen months, but she understands far more than we credit,” Lila smiled down at her.

“Use me as training wheels, Ronan. I’ll guide you until you’re confident. Little by little.”

I stopped dead in the aisle. Lila took another step before turning back. Before my brain caught up, I reached out and pulled her against my chest. She collided with a surprised “oof,” but her arms wrapped around my waist instinctively. One of my hands cradled the back of her head, the other spanned her back. I rested my cheek on her hair, breathing her in. My wolf settled completely for the first time since the office.

“Thank you, Lila,” I rumbled, voice thick. “You dropped everything. No judgment. Just… help. I don’t have words for what that means.”

She smiled up at me, soft and steady. “Of course.” As if there had never been another option. As if she didn’t know how rare and incredible her calm was in a world of fangs and full moons.

We finished shopping under the fluorescent lights, cart overflowing. As we loaded the truck, her presence beside me felt like new pack bonds forming—fragile, but strengthening with every shared breath. Annie slept again, content.

Whatever rival packs, moon phases, or internal pack adjustments lay ahead, this human woman with latent fire was already changing everything. My wolf howled in quiet agreement.