She studies him for a long moment, not moving, and Chase forces himself to remain still and relaxed.

She isn’t what he expected. She’s pretty in a girl-next-door sort of way, not the model good looks of her brother or Lucas. She’s fidgety and clearly ill at ease—probably from being in a den that doesn’t have her scent.

Chase doesn’t do anything to soothe that unease. She waltzed into his den, unannounced and uninvited. Let her be uneasy.

“I must admit, I expected someone a little...older,” she says.

He shrugs. “Being older doesn’t mean shit. If it did, Harper’s protection charms would have held and the Drake coven wouldn’t have been able to kill your family.”

She flinches at that, her gaze flaring red, interestingly enough.

Her control is almost nonexistent.

He wonders if it’s because she’s so far from her adopted Pack, or if it’s because she’s been so far from her Pack.

“That wasn’t Harper’s fault,” Chelsea says evenly.

Chase blinks. “It was Mia Drake’s fault,” Chase says slowly, “but a shaman’s job is to make sure that things like this don’t happen, to protect the Pack. So it wasn’t his fault, but he certainly didn’t do his job.”

She’s staring at him now, and her expression is something between curiosity and disdain. “And what does a half-trained human know about it?”

Chase laughs. “You can’t insult me that way, Chelsea.”

“I’m the Alpha. I can do whatever I want.”

“No, I mean—you aren’t saying anything I haven’t heard before and ignored. I know what I am and what I mean to this Pack. So insulting me with my humanity? I like being human. Calling me half-trained? Sorry, lady, you don’t know shit about my training. You never asked, and sure as hell never cared. So you can try, I guess—but it’s not actually effective.”

She’s staring at him like he’s some kind of strange and disgusting insect, which makes him smile, wide and amused. He looks back at his papers and sits back down, ignoring the Alpha still staring at him, now a little baffled.

He gets halfway through the page he’s reading.

“Where is my brother?” she snaps.

“You might know this if you were here more, but we don’t actually live on top of each other.”

“The size of this pitiful house would suggest otherwise,” she says haughtily.

Chase glares at her. “Tyler is at work. So is Lucas. And no, I won’t call them. They’ll be home when they’re home and you can talk to them then.”

“You do know I’m the Alpha, right? You serve me.”

Chase stares back at her, and he knows his heartbeat is steady when he says, “You aren’t my Alpha. And I serve my Pack.”

She stares at him. He turns his gaze away from her. It’s an insult, giving him her back like she isn’t a threat. She knows it and so does he.

He doesn’t give a damn.

~*~

She watches when he carries his books into his bedroom, abandons them in a messy stack on the desk, and goes to the kitchen.

It’s been almost an hour since she arrived and he’s a little surprised that Lucas isn’t here yet—he’s not stupid enough to think Aurora didn’t text him as soon as she heard him say Chelsea’s name.

It wasn’t quite a call to arms, but it sure as hell isn’t a friendly neighborhood visitor.

“It’s quaint,” she says, poking at the couch where he likes to sit, smooshed between Tyler and Lucas.

“We like it.”

“Pack homes are meant to be bigger. I know you don’t know that, but—this is barely a den.”

“Most Pack homes can house twenty or more, with whole wings for individual families, panic rooms for safety, and cells for werewolves still learning control. There’s usually a war room for the Alpha, for the Second, the Left Hand, the Shaman.” He stares at her, his smile fixed. “It typically sits on miles of untouched land, with room for the Pack to run and hunt, while staying hidden. It’s a place where Pack is safe, isolated and together, and outsiders aren’t welcome.” His smile quirks and he says, “Did I cover it?”

Chelsea smiles. “So, you’re not just a pretty face.”

His grin goes feral. “Not even close.” He chops up some chicken and tosses it into the pan to fry before dragging out broccoli. Lucas will complain, but with Chelsea staring at him like a bug she wants to pin to a board, he needs quick and easy. “Tyler built it. The Reid house is still close—I never go, but I think they do, on the full moon. But he likes it, that we’re small. We can hear each other anywhere in the den.”

“Must make it awkward when Tyler drags home his conquests,” she say.

Chase stills. He doesn’t look at her, but she makes a low delighted noise.

“Oh, I see,” she purrs.

“No offense, Chelsea, but you don’t see shit,” Chase spits.

She laughs again.

A car rattles up and she twists to look at the door. About fucking time.

The door opens and John steps through.

Chelsea’s eyes narrow. “Chief,” she says politely.

“Alpha,” he answers easily, and her eyes go wide at that. “Son. Sorry I’m early. I wanted to get out of the station before I got caught up again.”

“Early is better than late, old man,” Chase says, and John laughs. Chelsea is back to looking confused, and Chase almost feels bad for her—almost.

“Chelsea,” John says smoothly, opening a root beer and watching her with a genial grin. “What brings you back to Harrisburg?”

~*~

When Lucas walks in, he goes straight to Chase, ignoring Chelsea completely as he cups the Shaman’s neck and rubs against his hair.

Chase grins at him. “I’m fine, big bad.”

He rolls his eyes and glares at the food half-finished on the counter. “I don’t like broccoli.”

“Deal with it,” Chase says cheerfully, then starts the noodles.

Lucas sighs and turns to study his sister. She looks the same as ever, if possibly a little soft. There’s nothing sharp and alert about her lazy sprawl at the table—that’s Chase’s seat—nothing aware about the wine warm gleam in her eyes.

“Lucas,” she says, her voice edged with that familiar disdain and disgust.

He smirks. “Sister.”

Her eyes gleam red for a heartbeat, but she tamps down on that and stands. “No hug?”

Lucas crosses his arms. He doesn’t want to touch her, doesn’t want her scent on him. “I’m going to take a shower. Tyler will be here in ten minutes and you can explain yourself then.”

Chelsea gapes at him and Chase nudges against him, a gentle reminder that he’s not alone. Lucas shoves the urge to drag the boy closer, protect him from Chelsea, down.

“I don’t know what kind of welcome you expected, Chelsea, but I am going to be very clear—I don’t want you. Not here, and not as my Alpha.”

~*~

Her eyes are on Lucas as he stalks out of the room. Chase watches her. He almost feels sorry for her, with that confused expression, the pout to her lips, but not quite.

“He’s being kind of harsh on her, don’t you think?” John murmurs.

Chase shakes his head. “He’s really not.”

“Why are you even here?” Chelsea demands abruptly.

Chase glances at her. He pours a cup of coffee and slides it to her, getting a curled lip in response. Fair enough.

“I’m here because I’m Pack.”

“What, my brother decided to adopt some child?”

“Other way ‘round. I think Tyler would have gotten rid of me if he could’ve figured out how,” Chase says, “But really, Chelsea? You weren’t here. You could have been and you weren’t, so if you want our tawdry backstory? Go ask Tyler. It’s mine and I don’t want to share it with you.”

Her eyes narrow. “You’re in love with him.”

Chase doesn’t look at his father, doesn’t allow himself that. He stares at her and says evenly, “I love all of my Pack. It’s what Pack means. Maybe you forgot that.”

~*~

Chase realizes, maybe a split second too late, that no one warned Tyler. For that split second, he wants to kill Lucas Reid.

Then he drops the spatula and darts across the tiny space, shoving into Tyler’s arms as the werewolf goes painfully still.

“Wha—I—” Tyler makes a choked noise and Lucas murmurs something, too low for Chase to pick out, but he’s there, close to Tyler, the quiet press of Pack.

“It’s ok, just—normal Pack dinner,” Chase says. It’s brash and confident, and Tyler snorts a laugh, just a little hysterical. Chase grins and rubs a hand over Tyler’s hair. “Good?”

“Good,” Tyler says. Lucas hums his agreement.

Chase steps back, glances over and grins at his dad, rescuing dinner. Then he refocuses on Tyler, watching him carefully as Tyler faces his sister for the first time in years.

“Can I get a hug?” Chelsea says, and for the first time since she walked through his door, her voice is tinged with warmth, trying to tease but not quite hitting it.

“What—why are you here?” he asks, licking his lips.

Her expression does something complicated before she sighs and her eyebrows furrow. “Can’t we just say ‘hi’? Before we unpack the shit.”

“You could have. For years. Anytime, Chelsea, my number hasn’t changed—and you never did,” Tyler says quietly, “So no, we’re not doing that. Why are you here?”

~*~

Tyler and Lucas stand side by side, their shoulders just brushing as Chelsea watches them with narrow, angry eyes.

Chase wants to cheer, he’s so absurdly proud.

The thing is, Chelsea is Tyler’s damage. Lucas loathes her, and Chase—Chase loves Tyler and Lucas. Chelsea hurt them, still hurts them. He would happily skin her alive and use her coat as a fucking rug. But she’s Tyler’s sister, the one he grew up with, the one he still worries about disappointing, the one he desperately wants to come home.

She’s Tyler’s damage, and Chase has always known that when—it was always a when, never an if, because Chelsea is their Alpha, no matter how badly she acts, no matter how much she might wish otherwise—when this day came, his anger wouldn’t matter.

He hates Chelsea Reid, has since before he knew her name, since he saw the gleam of abandoned hurt in Tyler’s eyes, but she never hurt him.

She didn’t abandon him, leave him alpha-less, hurt and alone. She didn’t leave him languishing in pain and slow healing that an Alpha’s bond could have helped. She didn’t choose another Pack over him.

So he stands quietly, unobtrusive, as Tyler and Lucas face her.

~*~

“Gee, Ty. I almost think you don’t want me here,” Chelsea drawls.

“Don’t call me that,” he mutters, and she laughs. “You don’t want to be here. You’ve got a whole life out there,” he says bitterly, “So why are you here?”

Her expression flattens. “I got an interesting phone call.” Her gaze flicks to Lucas for a moment. “From the FBI. Between that and the rumors in the Eastern Packs—figured it was time to check in.” Her gaze is flinty. “So, Tyler. You wanna tell me what the fuck you’ve been doing?”

He looks at her, his eyes wide and startled, “The FBI?”

Lucas sighs and John curses.

“Dad, maybe you, uh, shouldn’t be here for this?” Chase chimes in nervously.

He sighs. “Lucas, is it anything in my jurisdiction that I have to worry about?”

The older werewolf sounds offended. “Of course not, Chief. I’d never do anything to cause you paperwork. I know how much you loathe it.”

“Kind of you,” John drawls, “I’m getting a drink and taking a walk out back. Sort this shit out.”

Chelsea watches curiously while John does just that. She turns to the Pack. “You let a human give you orders? A human who isn’t Pack?”

Lucas shrugs. “A happy Chief makes for a happy Chase, and we both appreciate that.”

Chelsea eyes the human boy for a moment, then says doubtfully, “I see.”

“Alright, enough. Everyone sit down. I’m tired of the looming,” Chase snaps. Both Lucas and Tyler move, obeying without thinking. Chelsea watches as they position themselves around Chase on the couch, a united Pack against their Alpha.

It’s...peculiar, the loyalty to this boy.

“Explain,” she says crisply.

Chase smiles lazily. “I don’t think you get to make demands for explanations, Chelsea. You left.”

“Alpha,” she snaps.

His smile grows teeth. “Not mine.”

“Chase,” Tyler sighs.

Chase subsides.

Tyler turns his focus on his brother. “Lucas, what did you do?”

“My job,” Lucas says simply, “What I would have done for mom, if she had lived. I avenged the Pack.”

Tyler stares at him, eyes wide, and Chelsea huffs. “He’s a killer, Tyler. He’s always been a mad dog. This is what they do when they slip their leash.”

Lucas tilts his head and stares at his sister. “The last time someone called me that, I was looking at a Drake witch.”

She pales, white and furious.

He smirks and shrugs. “Still, an apt description. But I don’t slip my leash. Chase knows exactly what I’m doing.”

Tyler jerks, and Chase grips his wrist. She narrows her eyes, studying the tattoo there, the Celtic knot that she knows is on Tyler’s back. Interesting. She files the tidbit away for later.

“When the FBI comes knocking at my door because people are turning up dead, with evidence regarding our family’s car accident pinned to their corpses, there’s a problem. This little revenge fantasy needs to stop,” she says, “I didn’t give you permission—”

“Stop,” Chase says sharply. Power flares around him. Lucas snarls, but she can’t look away from Chase. “You don’t get to do that. Sort whatever shit out that you need to with your brothers, but you do not get to walk into our den and start throwing your Alpha weight around.”

“What’s going to stop me?” Chelsea asks. “You, little boy? You aren’t even a wolf.”

“Do you know what happened to the last werewolf that underestimated me?” Chase asks softly. “She was an Alpha, too. Now she’s dead. There wasn’t even enough left to bury.” His heartbeat and eyes are steady, his voice unwavering.

She forces herself to stay still, to not shiver and flinch away.

“I am the Reid Shaman, and I’m telling you—stop.”

“You are my Shaman,” she snaps, fear making her lash out.

Chase snorts and leans back, the length of his body sprawled out and indolent. “I’ve never been your Shaman. I belong to the Reid Pack, and you? You are the Cahil’s trophy piece. By your choice.”

~*~

Chelsea has never liked Lucas.

She’s always been afraid, just enough that she lashed out. She could never control him, not the way she could their younger siblings or even her father, but she never could control him, and she never trusted him because of it.

It’s infuriating to see her sitting in his den, while Tyler sits rigid with a blank face and Chase radiates quiet fury.

She left.

“Why are you here, sister?” Lucas asks suddenly, and Chelsea’s gaze flicks to him disdainfully. “You’ve never come here. You’ve never wanted to—and even now, you don’t want to be here. Do you?”

Her heartbeat ticks higher for a moment before it settles. Tyler’s hands tighten into fists.

“So tell me, what do you want? What is it going to take for you to get the fuck out of our lives?”

Chelsea stares at him, pale-faced and lovely in her fury. He wonders how Tyler would take it, if he killed her.

“My fiance is concerned about the rumors about the Reid Pack,” she says finally. “I want them to stop. I don’t care what you do, but I don’t want to hear about it. I don’t want the Cahils to hear about it or fucking witches.”

“Silent and unseen, hmmm?” Lucas murmurs.

“Fine,” Tyler says abruptly. “You’ve made your demands. Now go.”

For the first time, regret fills her eyes. “Tyler—”

“Don’t,” he snaps, “Just—don’t. You want them, you want your nice uncomplicated life. I’ve accepted that. So go back to New York and your life and your new Pack. We’re doing just fine without you.”

He shoves off the couch and stalks out of the room.

Chelsea makes a move, takes a step to follow him, and Chase says softly, “If you go down that hall and into that room, you don’t get to leave. You will stay and be the fucking Alpha he deserves. If you don’t want that, don’t fucking give him hope. Just get out and let us clean up your mess. We’re pretty good at it.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, just rises and quietly follows Tyler. Chelsea stares after him.

Lucas stands. “Go away, Chelsea. You’re happy there. I would gladly break your neck and rid us of you, but it would break Tyler’s heart, so go home. Leave us alone. We’re better without you.”

“I am your Alpha,” she snaps.

Lucas snarls. He moves fast, pinning her to the wall, his claws pressed to her throat as she makes a gasping noise. Soft—she’s gotten so fucking soft.

“You really aren't,” he purrs, “Can you even feel our Pack bond? Because I can’t. All I feel is a twisted, dying thing.”

“Then break it,” she spits, struggling. He presses his claws deeper and she goes still, her eyes wide and scared.

“Darling sister. You—you are a necessary evil. Chase has bound himself to the Reid Pack, and for now? That includes you. I will not abandon my Pack just because I loathe the Alpha.” He sighs and releases her. “You’re alive because Tyler wants you alive. And you have a Pack because Chase is a selfless idiot. But you aren’t needed. Go home. Go back to the wolves who want you to play bitch for them.”

She’s trembling, her eyes red and furious, and he smiles at her, sharp and mean. Then he turns away and follows his Pack.

~*~

She stands there for a long silent moment.

The Chief clears his throat. “Ma’am? I'm going to have to ask you to leave.”

She gives him a disbelieving look that’s met with stern detachment, and she realizes—this isn't Chase’s father. It’s the Chief.

“The owners of the home have made it clear that you aren’t wanted,” he says, and it’s not unkind. “Time to go.”

She does. She holds her head high and stalks out, and watching the Chief in her rearview mirror, she tries very hard to believe she isn’t being chased away.