Saturday mornings had a different sound these days.
Not alarms.
Not distant gunshots or the creak of a watchtower.
Not the endless footfalls of wolves pacing the perimeter.
This morning was soft. Quiet. The kind where the cabin felt like an oversized den full of sleeping wolves and lazy sunlight. Rime was stretched on the couch with a book he pretended he wasn’t reading. Mark tinkered with a radio in the corner. Kade and Varro sat at the table working through a map just because neither of them had learned how to relax yet. Holt lay on the rug upside-down, enormous paws in the air, humming to himself. Gabriel sat cross-legged on the armchair strumming something easy and bright.
It smelled like cinnamon bread Holt insisted was “perfect this time” even though the last two batches had been weaponized sugar.
A peaceful house.
A peaceful valley.
For the first time in a long time, the world was allowed to breathe.
And Thane stood by the window, arms folded, staring out into the trees like he could see something far past the valley line.
Rime noticed first. He closed his book, padded over quietly, and stood beside him. “Alpha,” he murmured. “You look at horizon too hard. It will not give answers.”
Thane huffed softly. “I’m just thinking.”
The others heard that tone. The music stopped. The map rustled. Even Holt rolled upright, ears perked in lopsided curiosity.
Kade leaned forward. “Thinking about what?”
Thane looked over his shoulder at them — the little family he’d somehow built out of chaos and winter and grit. “Tarrik,” he said.
Varro went still. Kade’s jaw tightened—not in fear, but in attention. Holt’s ears flopped sideways. Gabriel arched a brow.
Thane turned fully away from the window. “It’s been a couple days since everything happened in Eureka,” he said. “I’ve been watching. Listening. And I think… Tarrik has earned something.”
A ripple went through the room, not tension, but the weight of a truth they’d all felt coming.
“He’s shown remarkable change,” Thane continued. “Not pretend change. Not fear-made change. Real, bone-deep, humbling change. He’s doing the work. He’s facing ghosts that would break other wolves.” He rested one clawed hand against the windowsill. “And I think he deserves to be part of our pack.”
Holt’s jaw dropped. “Wait… like… pack pack?”
Thane nodded. “Pack pack.”
Rime lowered his head in thought. Gabriel’s claws tapped on the guitar body. Mark leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
Thane held up a hand. “Before anyone speaks… understand something. I would keep Tarrik living and working in Eureka. That won’t change. But a wolf needs a home—true home—to run toward when his past comes knocking. I want him to know he has one.”
He looked at Kade first. Then Varro.
“I will not bring Tarrik into this pack if it would harm either of you. Or make you feel unsafe. Or unsettled. This must be unanimous.”
Holt’s ears flicked up. “What is… unani-muss?” he asked, stumbling over the word.
He blinked, genuinely puzzled.
“Sound like sweet thing. We eat it?
Mark rubbed his face. “Oh my god.”
Gabriel grinned. “Buddy… that’s ‘danish.’”
“Oh,” Holt said brightly. “Then what’s a unami— unimo— unanimoose?”
Kade sighed hard enough to fog the window. “It means we all agree, Holt.”
“Ohhh.” Holt nodded, satisfied. “Still hungry though.”
The room eased just enough to breathe—but the weight remained.
Varro spoke first, voice calm but low. “If you’d asked me that the night of the battle… I’d have said no.” His amber eyes flicked toward the window. “But I watched him in Eureka. Not the wolf who beat me for losing a hunt. Not the commanding voice. Just a wolf doing penance without expecting forgiveness.” He folded his arms. “Thane… if you believe he belongs here… I won’t stand in the way.”
Kade drew in a breath through his nose. “He hurt me,” he said plainly. “We all know that. Hurt a lot of wolves I knew.” His claws tapped once on the table. “But… I watched him this week. He isn’t the wolf from Iron Ridge anymore.” He rested his elbows on the table. “If you’re asking whether I feel unsafe? No. Not anymore. Angry sometimes? Maybe. But unsafe? No.”
Thane gave him a quiet nod of respect.
Gabriel leaned back, guitar resting across his lap. “I don’t trust easily,” he said. “But what I saw in Eureka… that wasn’t a manipulator. That was a wolf who woke up for the first time in his life.” He shrugged. “I won’t be best friends with him. But I won’t oppose it. He’s doing better than a lot of humans I’ve met, frankly.”
Mark grunted. “He’s been helpful. Consistent. No ego. No pushback. And Tom says he’s saved his ass twice on the river pumps.” He crossed his arms. “If you think he belongs, Thane, then I’m good with it.”
Rime stepped closer to the center of the room. “He carries weight with honesty now,” he said. “Not pride. Not fear. That is rare. I have no objection.”
Everyone turned to Holt.
Holt blinked, head tilted, ears loose and honest.
“I think he good,” he said, voice warm. “Smells… heavy-sad, but trying. Working hard.” He scratched the side of his muzzle with a claw.
“Water thing in Eureka? He fix fast. Strong paws.”
Then his ears perked. “Do we get cinnamon bread if he join pack?”
“No,” Mark said.
“Still yes,” Holt replied.
The room went quiet again.
All eyes shifted back to Thane.
“Then it’s decided,” Thane said softly. “I’ll go to Eureka tomorrow and tell him. He deserves to hear it directly.”
Kade frowned thoughtfully. “What do you think he’ll say?”
Thane’s eyes warmed with something heavy and quiet. “I think he’ll cry,” he said. “And I think he’ll try very hard not to.”
Varro gave a rare, crooked smile. “That sounds about right.”
Holt beamed. “We should throw a party. With bread. And maybe a unanimoose.”
“Not a thing,” Mark muttered.
Gabriel laughed, setting his guitar in his lap. “God help us if Holt ever learns Latin.”
Rime sat on the arm of the couch and looked at Thane with calm certainty. “This strengthens us,” he said. “Him, too.”
Thane looked out the window again — but his eyes weren’t distant now. They were focused. Steady. Purposeful.
“I buy in,” he said, voice quiet but carrying through the whole cabin. “When I choose to help someone become better… I buy in one hundred and twenty percent. Tarrik has earned this. And we will stand with him when the next ghost walks out of the snow.”
The pack murmured agreement, the shape of it warm and grounding.
Outside, the valley rolled on — peaceful, alive, and stronger than it had been the day before.
Inside, the pack sat together on their first real day off in years.
And Thane looked at his wolves and knew the truth:
The next chapter of their future had just found its missing piece.
The cabin stayed warm long after the laughter faded. The pack drifted into their lazy Saturday routines again — Gabriel strumming softer now, Holt sprawled on the rug humming nonsense, Kade and Varro trading quiet glances that held a weight only wolves with shared history understood.
Thane, though, still stood by the window.
He felt lighter, sure — but settled in that deep-chest way that said a piece of the future was finally aligned.
By late evening, everyone had moved on to chores or naps or whatever passed for downtime in a house full of claws and oversized personalities. But Thane’s mind stayed on tomorrow.
On Tarrik.
On the look he’d have when his world shifted from lonely redemption to something like belonging.
Sunday morning came with an orange sunrise and the smell of Mark frying something vaguely edible. Thane grabbed a mug of coffee, stepped onto the porch, took a long breath of spring air, and knew the moment had come.
He took the Humvee alone.
The drive to Eureka was quiet, the road curving along the river in long, familiar lines. His claws drummed lightly on the steering wheel — not nerves, just the slow rhythm of a wolf turning over the right words.
He pulled into town just before noon. The streets were calm, shutters open, kids chasing each other with sticks, the smell of bacon drifting from somewhere near City Hall.
Thane parked in front of the Sheriff’s office and stepped inside.
The deputy on duty, Maria Cables, sat behind the desk, boots propped up, reading a dog-eared field manual.
She looked up fast. “Thane. Everything okay in Libby?”
“All quiet,” Thane said. “I’m looking for Tarrik. You seen him today?”
Maria nodded toward the street. “He and Tom headed down to the cafe about twenty minutes ago. Sunday ritual, y’know.”
“I do,” Thane said. “Thank you.”
He stepped back outside and followed the scent of coffee and warm bread down the block. The little corner cafe had its windows open, lace curtains swaying. A few townspeople sat on the patio drinking tea, chatting about fishing or patching roofs or some new shipment from Spokane.
Thane parked in front and walked in.
There they were.
Tom Anderson and Tarrik sat at their usual table — the one against the wall with the dent where Holt once bumped it during a supply run. They each had plates of eggs and smoked trout, half-eaten. Tom was in mid-sentence, animated, pointing at the floor under their chairs.
“…I mean think about the traction you guys must get with those claws, right? I’d kill for that. I could climb the ridge in half the time. Don’t even need boots.”
Tarrik snorted softly. “Trust me. If you had claws, you would not want boots, or tools, or anything. Claws do all.”
Tom laughed. “Awesome.”
They were relaxed.
Laughing.
Whole.
Thane let the door close behind him.
Tarrik saw him first.
The shift was instant — ears pricked, shoulders stiffened, tail froze. His eyes widened just enough to show white at the edges. Tom’s smile fell too, turning wary.
Thane lifted one paw. “Not that look,” he said calmly. “I know that look. That’s the ‘I’m about to be yelled at’ face. I’m not here with bad news.”
Tom let out a breath he clearly didn’t mean to hold. “Well… good. Because the trout’s amazing and I’d hate to throw up.”
Tarrik still looked rattled.
Thane gave him a small nod. “I do need to talk to you.”
Tom gestured. “Sit. Please.”
Thane slid into the booth beside Tarrik, whose body language danced tightly between bracing-for-impact and trying-not-to-sweat.
Thane folded his hands on the table. “Yesterday… the pack and I talked.”
Tarrik stared at his claws. “About… me.”
“Yes,” Thane said. “About you.”
Tom went still.
Tarrik didn’t breathe.
Thane leaned forward slightly. “You’ve made incredible progress, Tarrik. Real progress. Not for show. Not out of fear. Out of choice. Out of wanting to be better than you were.”
Tarrik swallowed, throat tight.
“So,” Thane said gently, “I brought it to the pack. Every single wolf. And I told them what I saw in you. The change. The humility. The way you faced Joss without running. The way you chose to stay and work and rebuild when you could have disappeared into the mountains.”
Tarrik’s eyes finally lifted. There was fear there, yes — but something else too. Hope he didn’t want to name.
“I told them,” Thane said softly, “that you deserve a place. That you’ve earned a place.”
Tarrik’s breath hitched. “A… place?”
Thane nodded once. “If you want it… Tarrik of Eureka… you have a pack now.”
For a moment, Tarrik stayed perfectly still — the kind of stillness that only wolves understand, where every muscle locks because the heart just dropped out of the body entirely.
Then his eyes filled.
He blinked hard, trying to hold it back, jaw clenched tight enough to shake.
A tremble hit his shoulders.
His throat moved once, strangled and quiet.
“Thane…” he whispered.
“Yes.”
“You… you’d make me pack?”
Thane rested a steady clawed hand on his shoulder. “You already started becoming one. We’re just naming what’s true.”
Tarrik made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob — then lunged forward and hugged Thane so hard he knocked both their chairs screeching across the floor. Tom grabbed his plate before it launched onto the next table.
The hug was crushing, desperate, grateful in a way that cut through the entire room. Tarrik’s claws dug into Thane’s back, not out of threat but out of sheer overwhelming relief.
He pulled back only when he realized he’d damn near flattened the table. Tears streaked dark lines through his muzzle fur.
“Yes,” Tarrik said, voice breaking. “Yes. Of course. Yes.”
Tom blinked, then broke into a wide grin. “Well, hell. That explains the emotional earthquake happening over here.”
He cleared his throat, then looked at Tarrik softer than Thane had ever seen him. “Since we’re doing big news… I’ve been sitting on something.”
Tarrik wiped his face with the back of his arm, embarrassed. “What?”
Tom scratched his cheek awkwardly. “You earned a place here, Tarrik. Not a cot in the clinic. Not a bunk in the pump house.” He pulled a folded set of keys from his vest and put them on the table. “You have a house now. In city limits. Fixed it up this week. Fresh paint. Working stove. No leaks.”
Tarrik’s jaw dropped.
“You’re welcome here,” Tom said. “For good.”
Tarrik stared at the keys like they were made of gold. Then he looked at Thane. Then back to Tom. Tears threatened again.
“I… I do not know what to say,” he whispered.
“Say what you feel,” Thane said.
Tarrik swallowed hard and finally managed words.
“I thought… world wanted me dead,” he said quietly. “Every day before I came south, I believed that. And every day since… you show me I was wrong.”
He looked at Thane with awe and something close to devotion.
“You gave me life back. You gave me work. And now you give me… pack.”
Tarrik’s voice dropped to a trembling whisper. “I will not fail you.”
Thane squeezed his shoulder. “I know.”
Tom slapped the table lightly. “Well damn. If this isn’t the best Sunday lunch I’ve had in years.”
Tarrik huffed a wet, shaky laugh and picked up the keys with trembling claws. “A house,” he murmured. “And a pack.”
“And a future,” Thane said.
Tarrik’s eyes shone again. “Yes. Future.”
Outside the cafe window, the town of Eureka rolled on with easy Sunday warmth — families walking in the street, dogs dozing in patches of sun, the river glittering in the distance.
Inside, a wolf who once lived by fear finally understood what it meant to live by belonging instead.
And for the first time in his life, Tarrik sat at a table not as an Alpha, not as a monster, not as a ghost of his own wreckage…
…but as a packmate.