When the Luna Walked Away novel · Chapter 17 of 24

Chapter 17: His Queen

Tarran's truck came up the Otter Lake road at ten the next morning, with two more behind it.

I was in the yard with Robin in the sling, hanging diapers on my mother's line.

The twins were asleep in a laundry basket on the porch, between the old cook and a pan of biscuits.

The cook saw the trucks first.

She stood up and picked up the cast iron pan.

"Stay where you are," I told her. "Both of you."

Tarran got out.

He hadn't shaved.

His good white shirt from the presentation was still on him, wrinkled, with a smear of something down the front.

Four warriors climbed out behind him.

The one in front was the warrior from my porch, six weeks ago, wearing my father's fishing hat.

"Ilsa," Tarran said.

He didn't come closer.

He stood at the edge of the lawn and spoke in a reasonable voice, the voice he used on the council.

"Sire's right. A father can claim his pup inside its first year. That's pack law. Your father would tell you the same."

"My father's dead."

"I'm claiming my son."

He nodded at the warriors.

"Bring him."

None of them moved.

Tarran turned around.

"Bring the boy," he said, louder.

The warrior in my father's hat looked at me.

Then he looked at the baby on my chest.

Then he took the hat off his head, walked across the lawn and held it out to me.

"This was your father's," he said. "I shouldn't have taken it."

I took it.

He stepped back beside me and turned around to face his Alpha.

"We're not pulling a baby off his mother for you," he said. "Not after yesterday."

Tarran stared at him.

"You'll do what I tell you."

"Not this."

The other three looked at their boots.

None of them came forward.

Tarran's face went dark red.

He came across the lawn himself, fast, his hands out for the sling.

I stepped back and put my hand on my knife.

I didn't need it.

His own warriors caught him by both arms before he reached me.

He fought them.

He was strong, and he was an Alpha, and for a moment I thought he'd throw them off.

Then the old cook walked down the porch steps with her cast iron pan and stood beside me.

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