He didn’t bother knocking.
He stepped onto the deck and spotted his pack leader, in shorts and a tee, slouched in a chair by the fire pit, a book resting on his thigh.
Beyond him, the reservoir stretched vast and still, black glass beneath the stars.
Xander glanced up, surprised. ‘Didn’t expect you out here tonight.’
Mak shrugged. ‘Didn’t plan it.’
Xander stood, set his volume aside, and crossed to him, clapping a hand to Mak’s shoulder and pulling him in for a clasped forearm grip.
‘You look like a man who needs a remedy stronger than a therapist.’
Mak’s expression didn’t shift, but he followed Xander to the outdoor bar at the edge of the terrace.
From outside, the interior glowed with warmth.
It was a haven of curated wood, luxurious fabrics, and steel-beamed ceilings softened by hanging lanterns and woven textures. A crackling fire roared in the hearth.
Savvine was curled on a couch, a blanket wrapped around her legs as she watched a holo drama.
Mak took a respectful step into the house and raised his hand.
She gave Mak a slight, knowing nod and a wave.
He returned it before stepping back into the night.
Xander reached beneath the bench and pulled out a bottle of aged Bourbon Black.
‘The one you gifted me last solstice. Figured I’d never get to open it with you.’
Mak took the offered tumbler.
Xander lit two synth cigars, handing one over.
Mak inhaled, letting the smoke roll and slow through him, a counterbalance to the storm behind his eyes.
They sauntered back to the outdoor sitting area and settled into the armchairs.
Mk sipped, sucked his cigar, and threw his head back, letting the wind shift through his hair.
Xander finally said, ‘Talk to me.’
Mak didn’t look at him. He kept his gaze across the lake like the answer might rise from the depths.
‘Wife problems?’ Xander guessed.
Mak took a jagged inhale. ‘What else? How do you manage being married?’
‘I need details,cabrón, to know how to help you,’ Xander mused, leaning forward, sensing the tension in Mak.
Mak leaned back in his chair, the flicker of frustration and pain still fresh in his eyes.
The silence between them stretched, thick and uncomfortable, until Mak finally broke it, his voice rough.
‘I can’t get over Saba’s stunt at the altar. It was a dagger in my soul. A wound that won’t heal because it brought to mind what that family did to me years ago.’
Xander’s gaze softened, his expression a mixture of understanding and concern. He set his drink down, leaning forward. ‘I have seen you play with a ring for many years now. Pray tell?’
