As we walked home along the river, the question I’d been waiting some years for finally came, but not as I’d expected.

Hel waved a stick before him as though it were a blade. “Ryon calls Fang his father.”

“He does,” I said, and though I didn’t know what had prompted it, Ryon had thought of Fang in such a way for a long time. Perhaps he always had.

Helvectus slowed, eyes upon the stick he picked at with his fingers. He was nervous. “Sometimes,” he began. “At the training yard, I mean, the other wolves will call you my father, and others…” He scratched at his cheek. “Well, they ask me if you are.”

Aster squeezed my hand, then walked on ahead when I slowed.

“I see.” My chest grew tight. “What do you tell them?”

There was no hesitation, just a slight shrug as Hel admitted, “That you are.”

Neither of us spoke for a minute.

My gaze glued to Aster, the wool of her pale yellow gown floating behind her with her caramel hair. Despite giving us some semblance of privacy, I knew she still heard every word exchanged.

And despite all the years that had passed and that she loved me and this life we’d created, I knew it still haunted her. Not regret, but a sadness for the souls she’d known who were now lost. For all Helvectus had barely known and had lost.

As the path forking toward the woods that contained our home came into view up ahead, Helvectus stopped. I did, too, as he asked carefully, “Is that okay?”

I couldn’t seem to speak, and he mistook my silence, rushing on in a ramble, “I know you’re not,” he said. “I know that, but it still feels like you are.” He swallowed. “Does that make sense?”

Fucking stars.

I blinked hard but then decided it didn’t matter if he saw my state. I pulled him to my side and kissed his sweat-scented hair. “Makes perfect sense, pup.” His shoulders relaxed under the heavy weight of my arm.

Then he asked the question I’d expected before the father talk. “Did he do that to your eye? Rorn?”

His rare gaze was upon Aster, of whom he still called Asher even though she was a far better parent to the cub than me. He knew who she really was—that she would always be his mother.

“No, some other asshole,” I finally said and watched Aster falter as she entered the cottage. “Go make your mother a tea and get cleaned up properly. Your hair still stinks.”

Shocked, Hel looked at me with wide eyes. “Do you think I could call you both—”

“Yes,” I growled. “Now piss off before you make me weep like a babe.”