The BBQ was a triumph. The Duke's mayo had done its job, and my coleslaw was the first bowl to hit the bottom. Knight even gave me a nod—the highest form of praise a "Handsome Glacier" wolfie can offer—before he disappeared to help Gina with the clean-up.
"Careful, Alpha," Rhett called out from his porch seat, his eyes twinkling. "You want me to come along and chaperone? Keep things respectable?"
Stormy laughed, that low rumble of a sound that always made my heart do a rhythmic stutter. "I think we can handle it, Rhett, but keep the porch light on for us."
Rhett waved from the porch, his long blonde hair glowing in the porch light as he watched us go with that mischievous grin.
"He's never going to let me live that catch down, is he?" I asked, looking up at Stormy.
"Probably not," Stormy rumbled, his hand warm and steady as it found mine. "Rhett's a good kid, but he's got a memory like an elephant and for anything that humbles my Beta."
We stepped off the porch and headed away from the main house. The static between us was still there, but it felt different now—less like a storm and more like a steady, warm hum. As we walked, the scale of the village started to settle in. I'd seen the houses from a distance, but up close, I realized just how deep the Moon Shadow roots went.
"There are so many of them," I said softly, watching three young cubs racing across a lawn toward a small cabin.
"Twenty-two families so far," Stormy replied, his voice filled with a quiet pride. "And more coming. We're building something that lasts, V. A place where they don't have to hide who they are."
I looked at the kids, their laughter echoing through the pines. "What about school? You can't just keep twenty-two families in a bubble. Do the Littles go to Pinecreek for school?"
Stormy shook his head. "Pinecreek is a bit too small for the kind of... specific curriculum our kids need. Most of the younger ones are homeschooled here in the village by some of the elders who used to be teachers. But for high school, there's a larger district just south of here.
We walked further toward the treeline, where the manicured lawns of the village gave way to the wilder Minnesota brush. The airport was nearby—the Piney Pinecreek Border Airport—and I could see the faint lights of the runway that straddled the border between the U.S. and Canada. It was a strange, liminal space, much like the one I was currently inhabiting.
"I saw a bus parked by the one of the sheds," I said, thinking of our conversation about the kids. "It looks like a long haul for those teenagers heading into Roseau."
Stormy nodded. "It is. About fifteen miles each way. It gives them time to adjust their masks before they have to walk into a building full of humans." He stopped, turning to face me. The "fated mate" talk was heavy in the air now, more than the smell of pine or woodsmoke. "But they have a home to come back to. That's the difference, Veronica. They aren't just surviving out there. They're belonging here."
I looked toward the Canadian border, then back at the man who had built a sanctuary in the middle of nowhere.
"And what if some of us don't know how to belong?" I whispered.
Stormy stepped closer, his ice-blue eyes reflecting the silver of the moon. "Then we teach you," he breathed, his hand moving to the small of my back. "One kiss at a time."
__________
As we walked further from the warmth of the BBQ, the northern Minnesota air began to bite through my charcoal hoodie. My teeth started to chatter, a rhythmic clicking that I couldn't suppress no matter how much Ohio grit I summoned.
Stormy stopped mid-sentence, his ice-blue eyes softening as he realized I was shivering. Without a word, he reached down and scooped me up as if I weighed nothing at all.
"Hey! I can walk!" I protested, though I immediately tucked my face into the crook of his warm neck to escape the wind.
"You're a human lady, V, not an ice sculpture," he rumbled, his chest vibrating against my cheek. He didn't just walk; he broke into an easy, effortless run, his boots barely making a sound on the pine needles.
Within minutes, we were back at the driveway. He set me down gently in front of the dragon-green metal of The Beast and pulled my keys out of his pocket, pressing them into my palm.
"Dex did a hell of a job," I whispered, looking at my home.
"He did," Stormy agreed. "But it's a cold night. Why don't we take the party inside? I'd like to see what the 'traveler's life' feels like from the inside."
We climbed into the bus, and I immediately flicked on the dim, amber LED lights I'd installed for ambiance. I poured us a couple of drinks while Stormy settled onto the large built-in bench, his massive frame making the space feel even cozier than usual.
The bureau-catic authorities didn't take long to realize the queen had returned to her castle. Smudge and Emmy began a coordinated assault on the door from the pack house side, their meows demanding immediate entry into their rightful domain.
"The fur babies have spoken," I laughed, opening the door to let the two cats streak inside. Emmy immediately claimed Stormy's lap, while Smudge sat on the dashboard, judging our choice of beverage and watching every move.
We spent the night like that—tucked away in my small, mobile sanctuary while the Minnesota wind howled outside. We talked for hours, moving past the banter and into the deep stuff. He explained that being fated mates wasn't a cage; it was a soul-deep recognition, a compass that finally stops spinning when you find the right person.
I told him about what I wanted—to stop running, to find a place where my feelings didn't feel like a threat, and maybe, just maybe, to see what it was like to stay. We laughed until our sides ached, learning the small, inconsequential details about each other that no "destiny" could ever predict.
As I fell asleep in his arms inside the Beast, the secrets of Hollow's Court felt a million miles away. I was anchored. I was home.