The weeks dragged on until Christmas eventually arrived, and the Lupine household began to thrive as it so often did at this time of year. I kept my promise and chose to remain home with my family. At first, I thought about returning to the Watch as a final honour to Pete, but I couldn't face enjoying myself there without him. As I sat up late watching a film on Christmas Eve with Ollie, dad, Diana and the twins, I realised this was what he would have wanted: to live outside the Order for a while with people I loved. Even if it was just temporary.

Although eighteen years old, conditioning from Diana had the twins bouncing up at the crack of dawn. Alfie knocked on my door politely, calling through the door to remind me that it was Christmas day and waking up after 8AM was sinful. Having no shame whatsoever, his sister burst through the door and launched herself on my torso with a strength that almost made me throw up. With me awake, she skipped downstairs. A tired Ollie staggered across the landing and waited for me to follow.

It was needless to say that dad, who had no option other than to sleep on the sofa Christmas Eve, was not impressed at the noise. He was an early bird, yes, but sleep was preferred while on holiday, and waking early for something such as Christmas was a waste of energy.

Diana and I couldn't help but laugh.

With the kids playing on their games' console and dad staring at it, perplexed, I helped Diana out in the kitchen, chopping the vegetables she peeled and prepped last night.

"You've outdone yourself again, Diana." I grunted when I forced the blunt knife into the tenth potato. "How much food do we actually have?"
"It's Christmas!" she exclaimed, standing up after checking her gingerbread in the oven. "If there's a time for going all out, its now."

She always did this. Every year since Freddie died, she kept that silent promise to herself to make Christmas extra special for the twins so they did not think about their absent father too much.

"It must have cost a fair bit." Especially with the presents Ollie, the twins, and even myself and dad were given. "Are you sure you don't want any—"
"Nonsense!" She pointed an oven-mitted finger. "You may have just got a promotion, young lady, but you haven't taken a single job since."
"Much to dad's disgust. I told him it was Christmas and he said—"
"Generals don't get Christmas?" She snickered at my eye roll. "Your father means well, but he's no fun, really."
"I made a promise to Ollie. Promotion or not, I planned on keeping my word this time."
She opened the oven, releasing the warmth and spice of ginger into the kitchen. "And it means a lot to him. He's happy you're here."

I smiled and turned back to chopping vegetables for dinner.

"Don't worry about money." Diana slammed the baking tray on top of the stove. "Because those bonuses the witches gave us?" She whistled. "Lifesavers. Bills are paid for half of next year and Christmas is a big one. We need it."
"We certainly do."

A knock at the door almost made me slice my finger off.

"Are we expecting anyone?"
Diana shrugged. "Go check."

I opened the door and a smile instantly crossed my face.
"It's Christmas time and I smell nice cooking!" Alex exclaimed. He jumped through the door and picked me up in a hug so tight I wheezed out a laugh.
"Merry Christmas, Erika," said Tommy with a smile. Dad left his spot on the sofa to come to the door, eyes widening at the shocking image of guests in the Lupine household. "I hope you don't mind, Chris. Apparently Erika insisted Alex came to visit."
My jaw dropped. "Alex, you invited yourself!"
"I did not!"
"Actually, I invited them," said Diana, strutting up behind us. She brushed a strand of hair off my shoulder. "I thought Erika could do with a friend this Christmas."
"Thank you, Diana, for making me out to be a loner."
"You are a loner, dear."
"Thank you again."
Alex snorted.

Dad rolled his eyes and stepped aside. "Do come in," he said. "Just... please excuse the twins."
"What's wrong with them?" Tommy quizzed.
"Nothing new."

After giving the twins hugs and introducing himself to an unsure Ollie, Alex followed me into the kitchen.

"Is that gingerbread I smell?"
"Yes!" Diana practically threw a misshapen gingerbread man at Alex, pausing her icing of the others. "Try it."

Alex nearly choked but the sweet, gingery taste made his eyes widen. "Diana, this is exquisite."
I raised my brows. "That's a posh word, Alex."
"I've been expanding my vocabulary since our promotion to General. Divine."
"Very nice."
"Outstanding."
I shrugged. "A bit basic."
"Stunning."
"Now that's a stretch. That's one of the ugliest gingerbread men I've ever—"
"No, I'm describing you."

Diana grinned as I turned away, hiding my blush with a pinched smile behind hair that fell from my shoulder.

"I should speak to Tommy." She settled the piping bag on top of the flour-coated kitchen counter and clapped her sticky hands together. "See if he'd like a coffee or a beer."

The gingerbread men were left half-finished. I rolled my eyes.

"Oh." Alex reached into the gift bag at his side. "I got you something."
"Alex, you shouldn't have. I didn't even know you were—"
"It's nothing big, don't worry!" He handed over a package hastily wrapped into worn, red wrapping paper. "Just open it. Apologies for my lack of wrapping skills."

With a curious frown, I tore off the wrapping paper, scrunching it in a fist so not to let it fall to the floor. When I spotted the familiar book cover, I could not contain my laughter.

"The Art of Cooking Sublime Italian Food. Funny. Really funny."
"Well you found the book so interesting before so I thought I'd get you a copy of your own."

"Alex I..." when he met my eyes for a moment, my heart jumped and fell, sinking further than it ever had at a sudden realisation. "I never thanked you for coming to the funeral."
"Pete was a good man. I wanted to pay my respects to him."
"I know. And I... I needed a friend there. My family is supportive, but I need to be—"
"Strong for them?"
I nodded. "Yeah."
"I'm always here for you now. You haven't got a choice, I'm afraid."
I forced a laugh. "I suppose that's not so terrible."
"Seriously, if you ever need anything, call. Don't ever feel alone."
"I'm fine alone, but... thank you."

He smiled but it did not reach his eyes. Instead, those dark, gold-flecked irises looked through me, picking up bits and pieces but furrowing his brows as if unsure what to do with them. Like he wanted to delve further but did not dare.

I cleared my throat and reached for Diana's abandoned piping bag. "I should probably finish these off for her."
"I didn't realise you were good at piping."
I choked on a cough, flinching when my outstretched hand caught the fabric of his jumper. "There's a first time for everything."

Decorating the gingerbread was a mistake, it seemed, as Alex leaned in close to observe my attempt at mimicking Diana's swirls. Piping took more skill that it appeared.

"What is that supposed to be—"
"The mess adds character," I countered. "It'll still taste nice."

"Mum's going to kill you when she sees the state of that gingerbread man." Alfie emerged quietly from the corridor, an empty mug and wine glass in hand. He frowned at the lack of distance between Alex and myself, and looked to me for some sort of silent explanation.

I answered him by setting down the piping bag. "I'll just have to eat that one," I added, turning on the tap to wash my hands. "Is Florence really after another glass of wine?"
"Have you met her? Of course she's after another glass of wine on Christmas. She's feeling it already, as well. You can tell."
"How many has she had?" Alex questioned.
"Three," Alfie replied.
Alex scoffed. "Three's not that bad."
"Florence is a lightweight," I explained.
"For someone who's been going to parties since she was sixteen, she lacks tolerance," Alfie added.
I snorted. "Bloody amateur."
"She's also only eighteen, Erika."

The fact tugged on a heartstring. Only eighteen and she'd fought in a battle fiercer and more brutal than I had ever seen in my few years' of hunting. She held her own, protected her family and defended Horizon's Edge, but she was betrayed by Nathaniel, and witnessed people die that day.

She witnessed Pete, a boy she had known for years, die.

Somehow her counterpart caught wind of my thoughts — or seemed to, anyway. Alfie's nettle eyes glazed over, memories turning within them.

Diana broke the silence with a laugh that woke up the house, strolling in towards the gingerbread.

Grim-faced, I slipped through the gap between Alfie and Alex, the two snickering to themselves.

"Erika, what in god's name did you do to my gingerbread men?"

Dad, Tommy, Ollie and Florence's jaws dropped at the fear that sent me scampering into the living room.

***

I was drunk. Very drunk.

The last time I had come close to this level was the day after Pete's funeral. I held it together for the whole day, keeping the tears and the pain at bay, but the moment I left the company of others hunters at the Watch, including Alex, I broke. The tears fell the second I sat down at Diana's kitchen table alone with nothing but a bottle of white rum and a carton of orange juice for company. It was needless to say my aunt was furious at the sorry sight and snatched the bottle away, sending me to bed at the age of twenty-two. I obeyed, however, and she soon nudged in beside me with a glass of water, holding onto me until I fell asleep.

The guilt the next morning made me physically sick.

This was not the same kind of drunk, however. I was... happy. Like floating through clouds but still in the room. Present. With my family.

I would never see Pete again. But I was grateful the rest of my family managed to survive.

"Oh come on, Erika, play us a song!" Diana slurred.
I shook my head. So much I grew dizzy. "Absolutely not."
"It's been ages since I heard you play something!" Ollie, the only sober one in the room per Diana's orders, argued. Being fifteen, Ollie was not yet allowed to join in on the drinking, but I had seen a not-so-sly Florence offering a few measures of vodka to slip into his glass of lemonade. I excused it twice, but when Florence's vision started blurring, turning singles into quadruple shots, I stole the rose gold flask and fired a glare her way.

"It's been a while." I took a sip of wine — undiluted unlike the slightly-pink lemonade my cousin slurped on. "I'm rusty."
"Because you've had bigger priorities lately," dad pitched in. Despite his dislike for Christmas, dad still clutched a bottle of beer, already a few down.
"Erika's always working," Ollie retorted. "She needs time for the things she loves as well."

Diana glanced at the floor. Her own words, no doubt. "Time spent on trivial things is time taken away from the things that matter," dad replied, brows lowered in warning.

I could see Ollie's jaw clench from the opposite sofa, hands enclosed in fists beneath the grey quilted cushions as he growled quietly, "What counts as trivial?"

Florence slotted an arm through my own as everyone in the room stiffened. Everyone but dad, who seemed to be the only individual that did not see the direction of which this conversation was going.

"Hobbies," he said bluntly. "The violin is trivial. Lazing about the house every time she returns after work—" A pointed look my way. Dad had always complained about how much I lazed around at Diana's when I could be training. "The phone, friendships—"
"And me?"

We collectively held our breaths. Dad and Ollie rarely addressed each other directly and had been avoiding one another for the few weeks we had been home. But when I looked into Ollie's blue eyes — a trait we both inherited from the mother I barely remember — I saw fire. This confrontation had been brewing for a while and a few vodka-lemonades from Florence had tipped him over the edge. Even she realised that, sending me an apologetic glance. I clutched her arm.

At dad's silence, Ollie scowled. "Well?"
Alex looked to me to say something. "Leave it, Ollie," I warned.

Dad sighed, making my brother scoff. "The silent treatment's going to do nothing considering you've been silent for fifteen years already—"
"Oliver!" Diana snapped. "We have guests. Enough."
"I have had enough!" The roar shook the room — all of us but myself, dad, Diana and Alex. "This man's supposed to be my father and he thinks I'm 'trivial.'"
"I never said you're trivial," dad finally replied; far calmer than Ollie.
"No, you just treat me like it. It's only Erika that really gives a shit—"
"Language," Diana hissed.
"Not now, mum," Alfie whispered beside her.

Ollie rose to his feet, looking only at dad in pure, unfiltered rage. "You never bother with me. You never have. The twins don't even speak to me anymore. Only Erika cares enough to speak to me and she's always away!"

Diana looked at her feet. Never did I ever find her so stunned — so hurt — to be rendered into helpless silence. The pain that crossed her face... it made me scowl at my brother.

"Ollie, calm down."
He forced a bitter, burning laugh. "Dad—"
"I don't care what dad did." Not with how he hurt Diana.
"Of course you would defend—"
"Cool off in the kitchen."
"But—"
"Now."
"He—"
"I said now."

He scoffed but obeyed, leaving the rest of us in uncomfortable silence in the living room.

Alex swallowed. "Are you... okay?" he asked Diana. He did not know the extent of our family struggles, but was educated enough to know that Diana was perhaps the only thing keeping this family together. It was a heavy weight to carry. Even for someone as strong as her.
She nodded, plastering on a smile. "Of course. I should check on Ollie."
"Stop." I held up a hand, signalling for her to sit back down. "I'll go."

I met dad's stare on my way out. I wanted to say something — to tell him that, although not said in the right company or mindset, Ollie spoke the truth — but I did not. I only shook my head. The action seemed to shock him.

I heard the tap running before stepping into the kitchen. Ollie was there, splashing water on his face that evaporated at the touch of his skin. I frowned at the sight, watching the kitchen window before him steam up as he pressed his knuckles into the edge of the metal drainboard.

He caught my confused expression in the glass. "I'm begging you not to lecture—"
"I'm not here to lecture you."
He released his grip and rotated around, leaning against the counter. "Then why are you here?"

I shuffled beside him, jumping as I caught my jeans against the cupboard door handle. He glowered when my arms crossed, matching me at eye level. God, he was getting taller. I missed the days when he used to need me to lift him to the top shelf where Diana hid the ever-full, frequently filled treat box. He didn't need me anymore. It wouldn't be long until I needed him to reach greater heights for me.

"You're agitated lately." He laughed bitterly. "Don't deny it. Tell me what's wrong."

He shook his head. From the dampness on his forehead... he was sweating. "I just feel so left out of this family. I'm tired of it. Tired of feeling like... I don't know. Like I'm a burden on you all."
Never. "Of course you're not, Ollie. How... how long have you been feeling like this?"
"A while. But since you left for work last, I've been worse. It's like I have this voice in my head telling me I'm out of place, even when I'm surrounded by you all. I love the lot of you, but it doesn't feel right. The only person that I feel really at home with is you, and you're never here."
"I'm sorry."
He sniffed. "Yeah, you've said that. A lot."
"And I mean it."
He lifted his brows and pushed off from the counter. "And things still don't change, do they?"

A noise left my throat. Not a scoff, nor a cry, but something in between. "If I could change things, I would. But work—"
"Comes first, I know. You're dad's little angel, aren't you? You won't say anything that didn't come from his lips first, I get it."
"You don't have to be so passive aggressive."
"I'm—!" He stopped himself. A loud gulp had him swallow the anger threatening to boil over. "I'm going for a nap."
"Do that. And apologise to Diana before you go upstairs."
He frowned. "What for?"
I gritted my teeth. "For forgetting how much she's done for us."
His features softened, returning to that youthful innocence I worried for a moment he lost. "I will."

He passed dad on the way out. Neither of them spoke, looked, nor even acknowledged one another, brushing by like the other was a simple draft.

Judging from dad's heavy sigh, my glare must have been evident. "What's that look for?"
"He's your son," I hissed. "I know you aren't exactly the most affectionate man in the world, but you need to show that you love him at least sometimes."

His brows tugged in a moment of weakness. Perhaps it was shame. Maybe something else. "I am trying, Erika."
I swallowed. "Try harder."

The silence spoke volumes.

With a dissatisfied sigh, I gripped the counter behind me to push away, but turned around when my fingers sunk into the metal.

The once-straight draining board had bent, now displaying eight small ridges... like someone had pushed the metal in with their fingertips.

Like Ollie had pushed it in.

"Erika?" dad enquired, lacing his tone with rare genuine concern. "What's wrong?"

It was normal, I told myself. In moments of anger, people released greater bouts of strength. That was why hunters were taught to channel their emotions in fighting; why the greatest warriors always appeared to have underlying issues with aggression. My own temper could get the better of me in battle — the past few weeks taught me that — but had I ever caused damage outside of a physical battle?

I hadn't. But it was still normal.

I brushed my shirt along with the tight uneasiness. "Nothing. I'm sure it's nothing."

***

After the confrontation with dad and Ollie, the mood died down and sleep became the preferred option as opposed to sitting through the awkward atmosphere for more hours than what felt necessary. A reluctant Florence had been put to bed, Alfie soon followed to read the book I had bought him, while Diana and Tommy searched the loft for the dusty blow-up air mattress for the Arwood's to sleep on. Dad had went for a shower, leaving Alex and I alone — Ollie in the kitchen.

Alex collapsed on the sofa beside me, a fresh plate of cubed cheese and dried meat in his hands.

He pointed a cocktail stick of applewood towards my lips. "Hungry?"
I hesitated, but my growling stomach said otherwise. "Go on, then."

I opened my mouth and leaned to grab the cheese, only to find it move away, somehow landing in Alex's grinning mouth. "Too slow."
With a scoff, I snatched the plate from him. "Arse."

He cackled while I yanked a chunk of cheese from a stick with my teeth. His smile faded, however, when a quiet Ollie dragged his heels in the living room.

I smiled to ask what was wrong.

"Can I borrow your phone charger? Mine's just broke."
"Overnight bag in the spare room," I replied.
"Great."

And that was it.

Alex gave me a little nudge when Ollie disappeared upstairs. "How are you doing after all that earlier?"
I shook my head, taking another sip of wine. "I'm sorry you and Tommy had to see that. Family arguments don't happen often, but we've got a few long-standing issues in the Lupine household."
"No, you lot? Never!"
"Shut up." I elbowed him in the chest, forcing a breathy laugh from him. "It's just..." I groaned. "I love Diana, and she does so much for us, but if my mum was here... I don't know."
Alex blinked. "You never mention your mum."
Another swig of wine. "None of us do. She's—" I checked over my shoulder for any sign of dad. "She's a touchy subject."
"So you just don't talk about her? That's how you've moved on?"
"I— We— can't move on. Not when she could be... she could be alive." My lip quivered. I hid the impulse behind a mouthful of my drink.

"What happened to her? Your mum?"

It was not exactly a covert event. Most practicing hunters knew at least something about the disappearance of Emily Lupine — the first blow that sent the family into decline. "You don't know?"
He shook his head. "Dad's told me some things, the guys at the Watch told me others. I know it was an incident involving the Wolves but—" he shrugged "—little else."
"The Wolves stole my mum from me without remorse," I spat. "All for that damned mating—" My windpipe shut. There were things about the story which others did not know. Those glasses of wine had blurred the parts we had to keep secret.

"I shouldn't have said anything, sorry—"
"No." Alex took my hand when I shuffled to walk away from him. "No, Erika, talk to me." He pulled me back into the sofa, forcing me to sink in next to him as his arm draped around my shoulder, holding me close. I stiffened, but relaxed when his fingers brushed hair from my face, landing on the nape of my neck.

"She was someone's mate wasn't she? Your mum was someone's mate."
I swallowed. "A pack beta. When the link, I suppose, was discovered, they hunted mum down and stole her like she was the crown-fucking-jewels. For months, dad searched for her, slaughtering wolf after wolf with the promise of finding her."
"But that's against Treaty guidelines. The Treaty states that Wolves are allowed to form a union with their mate." My stomach twisted. "All marriages are voided off."

One of the many reasons Pete was so political. He was so angry when I told him this story; said that the Treaty was flawed beyond belief and needed reform. I agreed, of course, but finding mum was the priority. Not politics.

"It's funny," I said, lacking humour, "everyone romanticises the idea of the Wolves and their mates, acting like all mates find each other single and eager, fresh out of school, prepared to sacrifice their entire lives for one another, but that's not the reality. The reality is that, no matter their belief about mates... I..." I couldn't find the right words. "Perfect matches don't necessarily find each other at perfect times. My mum was stolen from her old life — it was messy. She didn't leave. She wouldn't leave. She had me, she loved dad. Who would leave behind a young family for a stranger? Especially when she was..."
"She was what?"
"She was pregnant. Early stages when she was taken, but she was. She gave birth surrounded by the Wolves and immediately they brought Ollie to my father and exchanged him for a promise of neutrality. He didn't want to, but he agreed for Ollie's safety."

"Do you think they would have harmed him? The Treaty would have—"
"Dad broke the Treaty several times in his hunt for mum. I'm sure they wouldn't have cared."
"So that's why he's never gone after her? Because he made a deal?"

Not just a deal: a blood pact. If the alpha of the pack harmed Ollie, or if dad killed another pack member, both dad and the alpha would perish. "Dad can't go after her... but I made no such promise."
"You'd go after them?"
"If I discover the name of the pack, I would drop everything to find them. To bring her home where she belongs. It's been too long and to imagine her suffering..." The fact that it was a legal act as well...

"I'm sorry, Erika."
He raised a hand, fingers outstretched to touch my cheek, but I lowered it away from me. "Not your fault, is it? You have nothing to be sorry for."
"You know what I mean."
"I do." I glanced at the hands on my lap, realising Alex's were still atop my own, dark fingers tracing circles over the skin. It was... soothing. A rare thing to find from another person.

I don't know what made me dare to look into his eyes but, whether it was wine or whim, I did. And I didn't just look. I saw into them. Saw into those dark irises and even darker pupils as his hand slid to the back of my neck.

Then I saw my own reflection, and pushed up from the sofa.
"We should watch a film."

Alex's shoulders rolled back. A sigh expelled from his nose in a way that worried me. Would he say something about that moment?

"Sure. What do you want to watch?"

He didn't even question the way I retreated from him. For that, I was grateful.

"Uhm." Anything to take our minds off what just happened. I switched on the tv and tossed him the remote. It landed in his crotch, making him grunt. "Sorry! You pick, I'll just—" I backed out the room, pointing at the staircase. "—change into my pyjamas."
Alex nodded, mouth pressed into a tight straight line. "M-hm. No worries. You... go for it."

The thumbs up I gave him made me regret ever being born.

I stumbled upstairs, clutching the bannister so not to stumble in my wine-fuelled state. What I almost did with Alex... that could never happen again. After what happened with Pete, and being promoted to a General, I had to focus on my career the way I originally intended. I could only keep Alex at my side if an arm's length was kept between us. Anything else would ruin us.

Even if it meant nothing. Both of us had been drinking, both of us were lonely. That's all.

With the bedroom door shut, I figured Ollie had swiped my charger already, but no. I found him there when I opened the door, intending to look for the pyjamas Florence gifted me that same morning. He stood over my bag in the centre of the room, head low as he analysed the book in his hands.

He lifted his gaze to reveal narrowed, tear-filled blue irises. My own dropped to the book he let fall to his side. Even with the alcohol in my system, I could recognise it.

Dad's journal.

I stopped breathing.

Ollie looked at me with the stare of a stranger.

Voice laced with bitter betrayal, he croaked, "What is this?"
I had no words. No training or preparation for what to do. "Ollie, I need you to calm—"
"No." He angled the book around his leg, hiding it from me. "Why is this... What is..." His lips pursed, shaking, ready to let out a sob. "Do Florence and Alfie... Do they—?"

No words were enough. No sentences could form for either of us.

I froze completely, marksman focus on nails he dug into the leather binding of the journal. His fingertips turned red.

He swallowed. "I thought you were on my side. I thought you cared."
"I do — I am."
"Then why—?" Tears fell.  "Why didn't you ever tell me what was out there? Why—"

His nails pierced the binding of the journal. He threw it away like it burned but I stared only at him; the brother I only ever wanted to protect in the single way I knew how.

"Why did none of you ever think to trust me?"