All Chapters of A Time for Strength: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

“No, Milo.” Bronx returns my mindlink. “What the fuck?” “We see how much time you spend together. She’s kinda cute, you're both single, and you two get along well.” “It’s not like that.” “So what’s it like?” “I don’t know.” He sniffs the air. “Saint says I should take care of her. I agree with him. It’s like… I-I don’t know. It just feels right. Like it’s my job or something to protect her.” “Your job?” I furrow my brow. “Bro, your job is to find Sin and fuck him up so we can go home. That’s your job. If you’re saying she’s your job, you have a thing for her. Which means she’s a distraction. Fortier needs to reassign her.” “She stays with us.” He pulls something out of his pocket. “Have you ever heard of tiger nuts?” “What the fuck is a tiger nut?” I look at the few shriveled looking bits in his palm. “Other than her knives and her handgun, this is all she brought. No photos of family or paper to write home. Nothing.” He looks at his hand. “Try one. They’re honey roasted.” I

Dad cuts a crescent moon shape into his palm and places it on my forehead. “Lenora Jane Mason, do you and the wolf spirit, Justice, accept the honor and privilege by your hereditary right, the title and responsibility of Luna Regent Scion of the Blood River pack? Your acceptance will remain valid until the Moon Goddess provides our Alpha Scion with his fated mate. When that time presents itself, you agree to step down from the Luna Regent position to fulfill the role of Female Beta Regent of the Blood River pack?” “With the blessings of the Moon Goddess, I do, and I will.” The spot where his hand lays is warm and tingly. Blood drips down the sides of my face. “Then as Alpha Regent of the Blood River pack, I, Michael Andres Mason and my wolf spirit, Mace, bestow these titles and responsibilities upon you.” He looks at me with pride. The blood on my face pulls itself back up, disappearing into Dad’s palm and my forehead. His hand heats up and I feel pressure as blood absorbs into my

We stand on the steps to the packhouse waiting for the SUVs. Mom fidgets where she stands. “Mom, don’t worry, they’ll be here in a minute.” I squeeze her hand. “Just remember, the doctor said he is on a lot of drugs. He might not be himself.” “I know, I just can’t wait to give him a hug.” Mom says, looking down the driveway. A guard’s howl in the distance alerts us to the approaching vehicles. Guards and warriors stand at attention as the SUV pulls up. Dad gets out first then turns to help Bronx. People clap and wolves stamp their paws on the pavement to welcome them. Veterans salute them silently. Bronx is deathly pale. A heavy bandage covers his left eye, and he limps when he walks. He lets Dad put an arm around his waist while he gets his footing on the snowy ground. Bronx winces in pain as he tries to stand up straight. The applause of the crowd dies down when he holds his hand in the air to get their attention. “Thank you for the warm welcome home.” His voice strains. “I’

I sit on the floor of my empty bedroom and look around with a deep ragged sigh, listening to the bustle of the rest of the apartment being emptied. I hug myself, still able to feel all of Mom’s strength and love through the embrace she gave me before she got into the SUV. I think about Dad’s last words to me. “I know you're going to do great. Just because your mother and I won’t be here doesn’t mean you’re in this alone. Lean on the pack. Use the resources at your disposal to your advantage. If you have to outsource, don’t forget to go through MasonCo and get a purchase order.” I shake my head with a chuckle. He always has the pack on his mind, even in retirement. Thinking about Bronx picking Mom up into one of his crushing hugs and hearing her laugh at him makes me choke back tears. His last few words to Dad. “I hear it’s summer in Australia and there’s plenty of room for Mace and Dahlia to run in the outback.” Watching the SUVs make their way down the snowy drive. The pack me

—Flashback— “Bronx, there’s a monster in my closet. Maybe it’s a witch.” I peek into his room. He’s reading a book. I bet it doesn’t have pictures. He says books with pictures are little kid books. I like books with pictures though. Maybe when I’m ten like him, I won’t like picture books anymore? That sounds boring. I’ll like picture books forever. “There’s no monster or witch in your closet.” He keeps reading. “It’s your imagination.” “No, there is! I swear!” My lip is shaky. I don’t want him to think I’m a crybaby, though. “I saw its eyes.” “So growl at it. If it’s hiding in your closet, it’s scared to come out.” He rolls his eyes. “Your wolf face will scare it away.” “Can you help me… please? Your wolf face is more scarier.” I don’t think he heard me. He still keeps reading. “Bronx, I really sawed it. It has glowy purple eyes!” Bronx slams his book closed. “Come on. I’ll show you.” He grabs my hand. When we get to my closet door, he stops. “How could you see glowing eyes if