Earlier, Voren spotted Ravyn the moment they crossed paths near the back of the building, and Ravyn, to his credit, didnât waste time on pleasantries.
"Voren." He fell into step beside him, dropping his voice low. "Did you bring her?"
"Sheâs here," Voren confirmed. He glanced around the space they were moving through, the side corridor that ran parallel to the main gym floor, and came up empty. No Seraphine. No Damon. No Bryan. He put it together quickly enough.
Sheâd gone inside ahead of him, probably with the other two, because being near Voren for an extended stretch of time required periodic breaks for her sanity. He understood that, though he didnât particularly like it, but he understood it. "Get me something to train in first."
Ravynâs mouth curved. "Already handled. Changing room."
They took the back entrance into Ravynâs private changing room, a space that most pack members never saw, set apart from the main locker area and separated from the gym floor by nothing more than a wall and whatever distance sound needed to travel.
As it turned out, it didnât need much. The voices from inside carried cleanly, and Ravyn knew every single one of them without having to think about it.
Voren went still as he listened. The easy, coiled patience he usually carried with him had gone somewhere else entirely, replaced by something tight and low and simmering just below the point where it would start to show on his face.
He pulled on the training gear, white shorts, a white tank that fit well enough, and kept his jaw locked while the sounds from the other room continued to travel through the wall.
When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. Controlled in the way that things are controlled when the alternative is considerably worse. "You made me bring her here for this?" He didnât look at Ravyn while he said it. He focused on lacing his sneakers, precise and unhurried, like he needed somewhere safe to put his hands. "I trusted you."
"Itâs not what youâre thinking." Ravynâs voice was flat but honest, the tone of a man who wasnât going to dress something up just to make himself sound better. "Iâd heard a few of them making comments about her. Ugly ones. I wanted to get everyone together so I could call it out directly, and make them apologize in front of the whole pack." He paused. "I wasnât expecting any of this."
Voren finally looked at him. The look lasted long enough to make its point. "Then you need to fix it," he said, low and without room for negotiation. "Because if she throws my shares back in my face because of this morning, I wonât forgive you for it. Thatâs not a threat, Ravyn. Thatâs just whatâs going to happen."
"Iâll handle it."
"See that you do."
Ravyn moved first. Voren finished the second lace and stood, and they walked out together into the gym, through the wide doorway that opened onto the main floor with its high ceilings, scuffed mats, weight racks and long rows of equipment.
The space was large enough that the pack used it for assemblies when the weather or the occasion called for it. It swallowed sound differently than a regular room.
Right now it was full of bodies and the particular charged quiet of people who had been making noise and then stopped when they saw who was walking in.
Ravynâs gaze swept the room and found exactly what heâd feared it would. There was no remorse anywhere, not in Dianeâs expression, not in Kevinâs, not in the faces of the people who had been laughing loud enough to fill the space ten seconds ago.
They looked back at him with the easy confidence of people who had decided in advance that whatever he was about to say wouldnât really apply to them. After all, heâd made his feelings about Seraphine clear enough over the years, hadnât he?
He hadnât even drawn breath to speak when Bryan appeared at his side like heâd been launched from somewhere, all flushed cheeks and heaving chest and eyes that had gone deep red around the edges.
"Dad." Bryan grabbed his hand. His grip was tighter than it should have been for a child his size. "They said bad things about Mom." His voice cracked on the last word, and he pushed through it. "I donât want to be in this pack anymore. Can I go with her? To the city?"
Something moved through Ravynâs chest, quick and quiet, like a door opening somewhere inside him that he hadnât expected to find unlocked. His gaze went to Daisy first, almost without meaning it to.
She was standing right there the entire time, and she had let every word land without raising a single objection. He turned the thought over as he looked at her. A Luna was supposed to be the heart of a pack, the standard, the anchor, the person who set the temperature of how things were done here.
He had been watching Daisy and asking himself quietly, if she could ever fill in the role of a Luna.
His gaze moved to Seraphine. He looked at her long enough that the look became something that leaned toward sorry without quite announcing itself as an apology yet, because that conversation wasnât one he could have in front of everyone.
He crouched down in front of Bryan, eye level, the way you had to be when a conversation actually mattered. "Seraphine is a very busy woman, pup. She wouldnât have time for you the way you need."
He kept his voice even and warm, the kind of steady that a child reaches for when everything else feels unsteady. "And you have something important ahead of you. The pack is going to need you."
"But they upset Mom." Bryan was not interested in being redirected. His chest was still moving too fast and his jaw was set with a stubbornness that Ravyn recognized from somewhere uncomfortably close to home.
"I know." Ravyn didnât argue with it. Didnât smooth over it or explain it away. He just let the acknowledgment sit. Then, quietly, with a calm so complete it was almost more unsettling than anger would have been and asked, "What would you like done about it?"
The gym went very still.
Bryan looked up and around him, taking in the faces, all those adult faces that still hadnât found anything resembling regret, and his small chest rose and fell and rose again.
His eyes swept the room with the kind of gravity that didnât belong to his age, and when he spoke, his voice carried further than it had any right to.
"They should all be punished."
Nobody laughed this time. Nobody exchanged knowing looks or comfortable smiles. The room had gone the particular quiet of people who were no longer certain which way this was going.
Because Ravyn hadnât flinched. He hadnât softened the conversation toward something more manageable or steered Bryan toward forgiveness or glanced over at Daisy for backup.
He was still crouched, still eye level, still looking at his son with the kind of complete and focused attention that told everyone in the room without a single word directed at them, that he was listening for real.
"What punishment did you have in mind?" he asked.
And every gaze in the room pulled toward them, sharp and uncertain, trying to read a script that had stopped behaving the way theyâd expected.