Page 79 of Mate Night Snack
He'd chosen mercy once, and three good wolves had died for it.
He'd chosen love now, and Ashwin would die for it.
The killing bite was clean, quick, merciful in its own way. Ashwin's struggles ceased, his yellow eyes dimming as life fled from them. When Emmett released his grip, the rogue alpha's body shifted back to human form.
Around the clearing, the remaining pack members fled into the forest, their leader's death breaking whatever hold had bound them. The ghostly seers began to fade as well, but not with anguish this time. With relief. With gratitude. With the sweet release of justice finally served.
Emmett shifted back to human form, swaying on his feet as the adrenaline began to fade and the pain reasserted itself. Bloodsoaked his body, the ancient earth beneath his feet. But he was alive. They were both alive.
"Emmett!" Katniss reached him just as his knees buckled, her arms going around him to keep him upright. "Oh God, you're hurt. You're bleeding so much."
"I'm okay," he lied, leaning into her warmth. "He's gone."
"You did it." Her voice was thick with tears and pride and relief. "You beautiful, brave, impossible man. You did it."
He felt her love wrapping around him like a healing balm, stronger than any magic Twyla could brew. They'd won. Not just the battle, but the war. Years of terror had ended here, in this sacred clearing, with love triumphant over fear.
"I love you," he said tickeling her hair.
"I love you too," she whispered back. "Now let's get you patched up before you bleed all over Hollow Oak's sacred ground."
As their friends emerged from the shadows to help, as healing magic began to flow, as the town celebrated its deliverance, Emmett held his mate close and finally, truly believed they had a future worth fighting for.
34
EMMETT
Three weeks of recovery had taught Emmett that healing was less about the body knitting itself back together and more about learning to exist in a world where nightmares no longer had teeth.
The physical wounds had mended faster than expected, thanks to Twyla's potions and his natural shifter constitution. The deeper scars, the ones carved by guilt and self-doubt, those were taking longer. But they were healing too, slowly, sweetly, one quiet moment at a time.
Like now, watching Katniss try to balance a two-by-four on her shoulder while reading installation instructions that had clearly been written by someone who'd never seen an actual porch swing.
"I think you're holding it upside down," he said from his perch on the cabin's front steps, where Miriam had banished him with strict orders not to lift anything heavier than a coffee cup.
"The board or the instructions?" Katniss asked, squinting at the paper with the kind of intense focus she'd once reserved for crime scenes.
"Yes."
She stuck her tongue out at him, a gesture that should have been juvenile but somehow looked endearing when framed by the autumn sunlight streaming through her dark curls. "Very helpful, thank you. Maybe next time I'll ask the squirrels for construction advice."
"The squirrels would probably give you better directions."
"The squirrels didn't spend two days researching the perfect swing for optimal porch enjoyment." She set down the board and brandished the instructions like a weapon. "Do you know how many options there are? Wood types, chain lengths, cushion materials, weight capacities..."
"You researched porch swings?"
"I research everything." Her cheeks flushed slightly. "I wanted it to be perfect."
Something warm and bright unfurled in Emmett's chest at her words. The swing had been her idea, proposed during one of his crankier moments of forced inactivity.We need somewhere comfortable to sit and watch the world go by,she'd said.Somewhere that's just ours.
Just ours. Like they were building a life together instead of just surviving one.
"Hand me that bracket," he said, rising carefully from the steps.
"Miriam said you're not supposed to"
"Miriam's not here. And I'm not lifting anything heavy, just pointing out where things go."
