Page 10 of Talk Howly to Me

This has to be some kind of cosmic joke.

Kozue's footsteps echoed in the quiet hallway as he approached the uppermost level of Hale Lodge, where his suite occupied one side of the floor while Ronan's claimed the other. The arrangement that had always felt convenient—being able to discuss pack business at any hour, having his closest friend and brother just steps away—now felt suffocating.

How am I supposed to share my mate with him?

The thought hit him with unexpected violence. He'd never been possessive before, never struggled with jealousy or competition. But the idea of watching Ronan claim Sloane while he stood aside, playing his usual role of supportive Beta who put everyone else's needs first, made his wolf snarl with territorial fury.

I've shared everything else with him. My home, my family, my entire life. But this…

Kozue paused outside Ronan's suite door as the weight of his situation crashed over him. Since the night his parents died when he was six, he'd lived his life in service to the Hale family. They'd taken him in, raised him as their own, given him purpose and belonging when he'd had nothing. Every decision he'd made since then had been filtered through one question.

What does the Hale family need?

When Ronan's parents and brother were murdered, Kozue had fought his way through the attack to save his best friend's life. When the pack needed rebuilding, he'd worked eighteen-hour days to help remodel Hale Lodge. When Ronan needed support carrying the weight of leadership, Kozue had shouldered half the burden without being asked.

Self-sacrifice had become so ingrained in his nature that most people saw it as simple kindness. They called him caring, generous, the nicest guy in any room. They weren't wrong—he genuinely loved helping others, found deep satisfaction in making people feel valued and supported. But underneath that genuine compassion lived a six-year-old boy who'd learned that love was earned through usefulness, that his place in the Hale family depended on never asking for too much.

Is this another test?

The thought made his chest tighten with familiar anxiety. Was the universe offering him everything he'd ever wanted, only to see if he'd prove his loyalty by stepping aside for Ronan? The Alpha always came first—that was the natural order. Ronan led, Kozue supported. Ronan commanded, Kozue facilitated. Ronan took what he needed, and Kozue made sure he had it.

But this wasn't about pack hierarchy or leadership responsibilities. This was about the woman whose hazel eyes had seen straight through his defenses, whose dry humor had made him want to smile even as his world tilted off its axis. This was about the mate bond that had slammed into his chest with the force of a meteor, claiming she was his with a certainty that went deeper than conscious thought.

I don't want to sacrifice this. I can't.

The admission felt like rebellion, foreign and terrifying after decades of putting others first. But as Kozue stood in the hallway outside Ronan's suite, the memory of Sloane's cautious smile and the way her guard had dropped just slightly when he'd promised she was safe, he knew he couldn't simply hand her over to Ronan and pretend it didn't tear him apart.

Maybe the universe isn't asking me to choose. Maybe it's asking us both to share.

The thought should have been comforting, but it only raised more questions. How did a triad mate bond even work? How were they supposed to navigate something neither of them had experience with? And more importantly, how were they going to explain any of this to a woman who was already running from danger and probably wasn't looking for romantic complications?

Kozue knocked on Ronan's suite door, the familiar rhythm—three sharp raps that had become their unofficial signal over the years—feeling strange now, weighted with implications that went far beyond pack business.

We need to talk about this. Figure out how we're going to handle it.

Kozue's wolf prowled restlessly beneath his skin, torn between loyalty to his Alpha and the fierce possessiveness that demanded he claim his mate. The hallway felt too quiet, too empty after the charged atmosphere of Sloane's presence. No immediate response came from within, leaving Kozue standing in the corridor with his thoughts spinning and his wolf demanding action he couldn't yet take.

The heavy oak door swung open before Kozue's knuckles could connect for a second round of knocking. Ronan stood in the doorway, his imposing frame backlit by the warm glow of his suite's interior lighting. His usually composed features bore the strain of a man wrestling with forces beyond his control—jaw clenched tight, the muscle in his cheek twitching with barely contained tension, and those piercing blue eyes holding a storm that matched the chaos churning in Kozue's chest.

The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken recognition and the weight of what they'd both experienced downstairs. Without a word, Ronan stepped aside, his movements deliberate and controlled despite the obvious turmoil beneath the surface. The gesture was as familiar as breathing—countless nights over the past twelve years had begun this way, with one of them seeking the other's counsel in the sanctuary of this very suite.

Kozue crossed the threshold, his boots silent on the rich hardwood floors, and the door clicked shut behind him with a finality that seemed to echo through the spacious room. He paused just inside, taking in the familiar surroundings that tonight felt charged with something entirely foreign.

The suite's main living area sprawled before them, dominated by the massive stone fireplace where flames danced and crackled, casting shifting shadows across the leather furniture and exposed wooden beams. This was the room where they'd planned the lodge's expansion, where they'd strategized pack security measures, where Kozue had held vigil during Ronan's darkest hours after losing his family. Tonight, it would witness the most significant conversation of their twenty-seven-year brotherhood.

Ronan moved toward the small bar tucked into the corner, his movements precise but lacking their usual fluid confidence. Crystal decanters caught the firelight, amber liquid gleaming like liquid gold in the warm illumination. Without asking, he selected a bottle of their preferred whiskey—the same brand they'd shared on the night Ronan had officially asked Kozue to serve as his Beta, the same one they'd toasted with when Hale Lodge had finally finished the expansion.

The sound of liquid hitting glass filled the charged silence. Ronan's hands remained steady as he poured, but Kozue noticed the slight tension in his shoulders, and the way his Alpha held himself with the rigid control of a man fighting his most primal instincts.

He's feeling it too. The pull. The need to claim what's ours.

The thought sent a fresh wave of possessive heat through Kozue's system. He accepted the glass Ronan soon extended and Ronan gestured toward the seating area with his glass, the amber liquid catching the firelight as he moved. The familiar ritual of settling into their respective chairs felt strange tonight, weighted with implications neither of them had ever imagined facing.

Kozue sank into the leather armchair he'd claimed as his own years ago, the supple material conforming to his body with practiced ease. Across from him, Ronan chose his usual spot on the matching chair, close enough for conversation but maintaining the careful distance they'd always observed during their most serious discussions.

The fire crackled between them, flames dancing hypnotically as shadows played across the room's rustic elegance. How many nights had they sat here like this? How many crises had they weathered, plans had they made, fears had they shared in this very space?

But tonight felt different. Tonight, the comfortable familiarity was underscored by an electric tension that had nothing to do with pack business and everything to do with the woman currently sleeping two floors below them.