h4Chapter 211: Grace: Ron’s Not Like the Others/h4

    Caine and the Lycan both look a little too smug when they look in my direction, leaving me feeling a little uneasy, like I’m missing something. But the feeling’s not nearly as strong as the shock from watching Fenris take a bite out of someone’s shoulder.

    Ron’s finger taps against the back of my hands, where I’ve stered them over his eyes to save his innocent teenage soul.

    "Can I look yet?"

    I stare at the now-conscious Lycan’s mangled shoulder. Blood flows freely from the bite wound, and yet both men are standing there like it never even happened. He’s even ismiling/i.

    "You should probably just go inside," I tell Ron uncertainly. New to parenting or not, even I know children shouldn’t be exposed to this level of violence. I very clearly remember my dad covering my eyes and my mom covering my ears during certain parts of superhero movies at the tender age of six, and those were the ones made for kids.

    He snorts. "I can assure you, I’ve seen worse."

    And he probably has. It does give me a little pause, but I defend his innocence to the death with a faint, "That’s not the point."

    "Actually, it kind of is," Ron argues, then wraps his fingers around my wrist and pulls my hand down by force. He’s stronger than I expected him to be, leaving me a little nonplussed.

    The Lycan only catches his interest for a second. "Oh, it’s not even that bad."

    I stare at him in disbelief, then back at the wound where Fenris’s teeth tore through muscle. "Don’t make it sound so normal," I say, feeling queasy as another pulse of blood oozes down.

    Ron looks at me and snorts again. "Wee to shifter life, Grace. Are you sure you were raised in a pack?"

    "Yes!" My attention sessfully diverted, I fight the childish urge to stomp my feet. It won’t help me gain some sort of parental authority in his eyes. "I lived here for six years, under the previous Alpha."

    "Was it peaceful?"

    "Very." Old, instinctive pride has me prattling on, "Alpha hadplete control over the pack and a great rapport with the neighboring packs. It was rare for us to even have an issue with rogues..."

    But my voice trails off as I realize I’m still speaking like Alpha’s proud daughter, without even thinking about it. My tongue twists like it would from eating sour candy and I grimace.

    But the teenager doesn’t seem to notice as he says, "Oh, they must all be weak, then."

    I blink. "How is that so?"

    "There’s no such thing as a strong wolf pack without violence. Even I know that."

    The way he talks, so matter-of-fact, makes my skin crawl a little. "What do you mean?"

    "Um. Having a strong leader raises strong wolves. We’re all attracted to a strong alpha, which means we grow up stronger ourselves. Didn’t you know a strong alpha’s leadership causes more alphas to be born?"

    I blink. "No. Isn’t itpletely from bloodline?"

    "It’s like, seventy-five percent bloodline and twenty-five percent alpha. It’s why rogues almost never birth alphas, and the Lycan Pack has more alphas per birth than other packs."

    "Isn’t that because they’re... Lycans?"

    "No, it’s because they’re already strong."

    I squint at Ron, not sure if I should believe him or not. On one hand, he’s even younger than I am. On the other, he’s literally grown up as a shifter, so he would know. "That’s not what they taught in ss here."

    "Of course not." He rolls his eyes. "Why would they teach a weaker pack they’re weak? He was probably hiding it to seem like he was a strong alpha."

    "No, he wasn’t weak..." He was well-respected in the area and had good leadership. But I don’t really know details beyond that. It wasn’t like Brax ever really taught me anything; I’m just repeating what I’ve heard over time.

    "Nah, he’s weak. If your ex is the the new alpha of this pack, it means he was the strongest after your alpha, right?"

    "Right."

    Ron shakes his head with a sneer. "He’s weaker than I am. The reason you didn’t see violence is because no one was strong enough to challenge anyone. Alphas fight a lot. Alpha challenges happen all the time when young alphas grow up to adulthood. Stuff like that," and he points at the Lycan and Caine, who are smiling strangely in our direction, "is normal."

    "Weren’t you raised with Owen?" As in, not in a pack.

    "Yeah, so?"

    "How do you know all this?"

    He rolls his eyes. "Who doesn’t?"

    Me, apparently.

    "Alpha... sorry, Brax always said violent wolves were uneducated wolves. Did Fiddleback have a lot of alpha challenges...?"

    "No one lived long enough to challenge him."

    Oh.

    My heart drops a little at the dark turn our conversation’s taken. Try saving a kid from seeing some gore and suddenly things go sideways.

    Rubbing at my eyebrow, I let out a little sigh. "Okay. I get it. This level of violence is nothing and normal and I shouldn’t overreact."

    Ron leans forward with a strange gleam in his eye. "Was your Alpha really considered strong in this area?"

    I hesitate before nodding. Brax’s reputation is what it is, even if it’s starting to feel a little... spoonfed,pared to what Ron’s saying. "Yeah. He was."

    "Interesting." His expression turns thoughtful, but I have no idea what he’s thinking.

    Cainees toward us then, with the Lycan now nowhere to be seen. It’s a little relieving to know he isn’t around; his hatred toward me isn’t the kind of thing to subside so easily, right? No matter what orders Caine gives.

    "Brax was considered a strong alpha for the area due to his strength in diplomacy," he says calmly, his gaze resting on Ron. "He had strong backings among the other packs and led arge faction. While we usually prioritize a more physical strength, Brax had his own talents to make up for hisck of physical strength. It’s how hested so long."

    It starts off a little shocking to hear anything even mildlyplimentary toward Braxing out of the mouth of the man who killed him, but the rest of it kind of sounds... not so much.

    "With his passing, the alliances he’s created will fall over the next few years," Caine continues, his gray eyes fixed meaningfully on Ron. "It will be a good chance for those who want to take it."

    My spine stiffens as I look between them. The subtext isn’t even subtext—it’s practically written in neon. "Are you trying to say Ron should challenge and take over one of these packs?"

    He’s a kid. A teenager. He should be worrying about normal teenage things, not pack politics and alpha challenges.

    They both ignore mepletely.

    "You think that’s a good idea, too?" Ron asks Caine, his voice steady but excitement visible in his shining, dark eyes. His hands keep clenching and unclenching, and I’ve never seen him so animated.

    The Lycan King says, still calm in the face of adolescent exuberance, "As long as you train for it. You can follow me to learn if you’re interested."

    "Hell yeah, I am."

    Something in my chest twinges—a strange mix of pride and loss. When did my reliable, protective Ron start thinking about being an alpha? About leading? I look between them, feeling suddenly like I’m watching something being snatched from my grasp.

    "Don’t you think he’s a little young?" I try again.

    Caine’s gaze flicks to me, then back to Ron. "In five years he’ll be the perfect age to spread his wings. Don’t you want him to be sessful?"

    The question makes me feel too selfish. Of icourse/i I do. But this feels too fast, too soon. I just found these kids, and already one’s nning his departure.

    Ron ps my shoulder, his expression unexpectedly serious. "Don’t worry. I’ll make sure there’s room for you in the pack, too."

    My heart warms a little.

    "She won’t need a ce in your pack."

    The possessive edge in Caine’s voice could easily be annoying, but something warm flutters in my heart instead. But he isn’t the problem here, so I focus on the teenager.

    "Oh, that’s sweet," I tell Ron, meaning it despite the hollow feeling spreading through me.

    He must notice something in my expression because his face softens. "Don’t worry. I won’t do anything when Bun is still so young. It would put her in danger."

    "I can keep Bun safe," the Lycan King interjects, sounding genuinely insulted that his protection would be questioned.

    A faint smile tugs at my lips, but my heart breaks every time I look at Ron’s face. The kid isn’t even shaving yet, and he’s already considering fighting for his own pack. Though—I squint hard—it does kind of look like he has some dark hairs growing on his upper lip.

    Damn it.

    My shoulders droop.

    Ron looks at me with unexpected amusement. "How old do you think I am, Grace?"

    "Fifteen?" I venture, suddenly unsure.

    He nods. "I’m not a kid like the other three."

    "You didn’t even have a chance to be a kid," I murmur, my heart twisting painfully. "You deserve a chance to be a kid. Is it really time to be worrying about this?"

    He shakes his head with the certainty of someone much older. "I need to start nning my future. I need to make a safe ce for people like us. Like you, too. Fiddleback isn’t the only ce we’re in danger."

    All this time, while I’ve been thinking of him as just the oldest of the children, he’s been carrying this burden. This vision... How many nights has hein awake, nning how to protect the others if and when Owen can no longer do so?

    "You’ll follow me starting tomorrow," Caine says with the casual authority of someone who expects to be obeyed.

    "But he’s so young..." I protest weakly, knowing I’ve already lost this argument.

    His expression doesn’t change. "An alpha’s heir learns starting before the age of ten. He’s alreadyte."

    My mouth snaps shut. There’s no arguing with the weight of shifter tradition behind his words. Ron isn’t just a kid—he’s a potential alpha. And in their world, that means a lot.

    Ron ruffles my hair with a grin. "Don’t worry. You’ll still be my big sister even when I’m the alpha of my own pack."

    He’s thinking five years ahead, and I’m still struggling to adjust to today.

    I smack his hands away, a lump forming in my throat. How is it possible to feel proud and heartbroken at the same time? "Okay. I’ll hold you to it."

    Meanwhile, the Lycan King stares at us with a deep frown before he steps over to my side. He leans down, his hot breath brushing my ear as he whispers, "Were you nning on leaving me, Grace?"

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