Page 46 of Howling Mad
Finley listens without interrupting, resting her head against my shoulder.When I finally fall silent, she says, “Thank you for bringing me here.”
The response is so unexpected that I pull back to look at her.“Why would you thank me for dragging you into this mess?”
“Because now I understand you better.”She traces the embroidery on my vest with gentle fingers.“This is part of you, even the parts you’ve tried to leave behind, and I want all of you, Michael.The stockbroker and the beta’s son.The wolf and the man.”
Her words unlock something I’ve kept carefully contained for years.Is there really a possibility that I don’t have to choose between worlds and can be whole without rejecting pieces of myself?“I love you,” I say suddenly, the words emerging without conscious thought but with absolute certainty.“I know it’s soon, and we haven’t talked about…”
She silences me with a kiss—soft, sweet, and perfect.When she pulls back, her eyes are bright with emotion.“I love you, too.Wolf vest and all.”
That gets a genuine laugh from me.Though the rest of the weekend still looms like an ugly storm, this moment is a rainbow.
Chapter 15
Finley
Iwakebeforedawnwith Michael’s arm heavy across my waist and his breath warm against my neck.The unfamiliar room gradually takes shape in the blue-gray light filtering through thin curtains.I carefully extract myself from his embrace, padding silently to the window to look out at the misty forest surrounding the pack compound.
Sleep won’t return, so I take the opportunity to explore Michael’s childhood room properly.Last night, exhausted from the welcome feast and focused on Michael’s distress about Claudia’s impending appearance, I hardly noticed the telling details.Now, I see the story of his youth written in the objects he left behind.
Tucked away in a corner bookshelf, partially hidden behind ceremonial wolf figurines, I discover pristine math competition trophies.First place in regional and state levels.Beside them is a stack of economic theory books clearly meant for university students, not teenagers, their pages dog-eared with extensive margin notes in Michael’s precise handwriting.Some passages are underlined multiple times, with questions that show a mind hungry for knowledge far beyond pack economics.
In contrast, displayed prominently on the walls—likely his father’s doing—are mere participation ribbons from pack hunting competitions and ceremonial wolf items that appear completely untouched.A traditional wolf-tooth necklace hangs from a hook, dust coating its leather cord.A ceremonial hunt map, framed and centered above the desk, shows no creases or markings that would indicate actual use.
The room tells the story of two lives—the one Michael built for himself, full of intellectual curiosity and achievement, and the one his father tried to force upon him, filled with wolf traditions that never fit.I run my fingers along the spines of his books, finding a financial theory text with the name “M.Thornton” written inside in careful, youthful handwriting.The page falls open to a chapter on market diversification, and the margins are filled with notes comparing human markets to pack trade networks.Even then, he was trying to bridge his two worlds.
“Find anything incriminating?”Michael’s voice, husky with sleep, comes from the bed.
I turn to find him watching me, hair adorably tousled, and eyes still heavy-lidded.“Just evidence that you were a math genius even as a teenager.Shocking.”
“Tragic, isn’t it?”He stretches, the sheet slipping to reveal his bare chest.“My secret shame, exposed at last.”
I hold up a particularly dense-looking textbook.“You readPrinciples of Macroeconomic Theoryfor fun as a high school student?”
“Not for fun.”He sits up, running a hand through his hair.“For escape.”
The simple honesty of his answer makes my chest tighten.I return to bed, sitting beside him and taking his hand.“It worked.Didn’t it?You built a life where you get to use that brilliant mind.”
“At the cost of not belonging here.”He gestures to the room around us and the world beyond the door.
“Is that a cost or a benefit?”I ask, leaning my head against his shoulder.
His laugh rumbles through his chest.“Depends on the day.Today, with Claudia’s grand entrance planned?Definitely a benefit.”
The mention of her name brings reality crashing back in.Whatever peace we found in this room last night, today we face the carefully orchestrated scheme of his father and ex-girlfriend.
“What’s our strategy?”I straighten up, game face on.
“Strategy?”
“For the Claudia situation.”I rise, moving to the small bag I packed for the weekend.“Do we play it cool?Go on the offensive?Perform a dramatic exit mid-presentation?”
Michael watches me with a mixture of amusement and confusion.“You’re actually thinking tactically about this.”
“Of course, I am.”I pull out the outfit I carefully selected for today, which is a professional-looking dress in a deep forest green that flatters my coloring while still respecting pack formality.“Your manipulative ex is about to present to your entire pack and probably isn’t here just to share some numbers.We need a plan.”
He rises from the bed, coming to stand behind me, and settling his hands on my shoulders.“You’re remarkable.Anyone else would be running for the hills, and you’re strategizing like a general.”
I turn to face him.“I’m a matchmaker, remember?Office politics and romantic sabotage are my bread and butter.”
