Chapter 40: Chapter 40

Weston blinks slowly, eyebrows raising in surprise.

If Millan thought he looked confused before, it’s nothing compared to how he looks now.

“Wait… what? Back up a bit. Stella is your mother? Your biological mother? I thought she was your aunt?”

In all fairness, Millan should probably give Weston all the information before he expects him to form an opinion.

So that’s what he did.

He told Weston how his father forced Stella to carry his son and how she was forced to basically ignore Millan's existence all those years. Half way through the story, Millan lets his head rest on Weston’s chest again, finding that talking while staring at the woods is easier than when he’s directly looking at Weston.

That’s how, surprising himself, Millan goes further in telling the story than he’d planned.

Millan feels the need to tell Weston how Stella saved him from his uncle once, as if to defend Stella, to make sure Weston knows she did her best.

“I wasn’t sure if she knew. I thought maybe it was just a happy coincidence, that her oven did break and that she was looking for my uncle to fix it. I mean, people always asked Uriel for these kinds of things so it made sense. But now, I’m not so sure… I think maybe she knew what my uncle was up to and she wanted to get him away from me. I don’t know… what do you think?”

Weston hums, the sound deep underneath Millan's resting head.

“Well, first thing’s first. You didn’t fuck up Stella and Maddie’s reunion, so you can stop saying you did.”

Millan rolls his eyes, but decides to let it go. Weston is biased and Millan is starting to believe there’s nothing he could do wrong in Weston’s eyes.

“And second, I think you should ask her about her intentions that day.”

Millan nods. Although he’d irrationally wish for Weston to tell him what Stella had intended to do, he knows that the only person that can really clear this up is, of course, Stella.

They both loose themselves in their thoughts again.

Millan is vaguely aware of the sun setting fully and the air getting a bit colder around them. But Weston’s warmth is still enough to lull him into a comfort he’d prefer never to leave.

Weston’s reassuring strokes on his arm and occasional kisses on the top of his head add to the sweetness of their shared contemplative moment.

“Mill?” Weston’s voice is barely above a whisper, tentative.

“Hmm?”

When Weston doesn’t elaborate, Millan opens his eyes and looks up. Weston seems apprehensive. It’s not a look he wears often and it has Millan slightly worried.

“What is it?”

Weston stops biting his lip and looks into Millan's violet eyes, resolved.

“I agree with Maddie. Stella should have told you the truth, she should have found a way. And she kept on ignoring you for all those years… that’s just not right.”

Millan breaks eye contact. He’s starting to believe that werewolves brought up in a pack like the Blayne’s can’t really understand how it is to live in a pack like the Caelan’s.

They think it’s easy to go off and do your own thing because, here, they’re all so accepting of everyone, regardless of who they are, of their preferences.

Millan is happy that a place like this exists, but in all fairness, they wouldn’t last a day in the Caelan Pack.

“You don’t understand, Weston. She was forced to act this way. It’s not really fair to hold it against her.”

“I understand that your father Alpha Commanded her but she should have disobeyed, she should have found a way around it.”

“Why do everyone think it’s easy to ignore an Alpha Command all of a sudden?”

“You can do it. So why couldn’t she?”

Millan exhales and closes his eyes, annoyed.

“It’s not that easy.”

Weston stays silent for a moment, as if to let Millan calm down a bit before continuing,

“Mill, I love you, but you do have a tendency to forgive people too easily.”

Millan frowns. He really doesn’t think that he does. He hasn’t forgiven his uncle, his father or any Alpha he’s come across that’s discarded him like a piece of trash.

There are a ton of people Millan isn’t too fond of and lets himself be mad at. But when he thinks about it, when it comes to people he cares about, he does excuse a lot pretty quickly.

“If you can count on one hand the number of people who care about you… you can’t really afford to get mad at them, can you?”

“Oh, Mill…”

Just as Millan is about to hide his face in Weston’s chest, embarrassed, there’s a gentle hand underneath his chin lifting his face upwards instead.

Millan opens his mouth to apologize but Weston’s lips cut him off.

The kiss is quick but soft, soothing a heaviness in Millan's chest that he didn’t realize was there.

“I understand what you’re saying, but you still need to stand up for yourself. Maddie is right. Stella should have fought harder for you and you have a right to be mad.”

The sincerity in Weston’s eyes is overwhelming.

Millan looks away and lets Weston’s words sink in.

Deep down, he knows he is right, but there’s a part of him that’s still scared Stella will hate him, that craves her love and validation more than anything else.

*****

“Mother?”

Millan steps forward, hoping to get his mother’s attention to no avail.

As if made of stone, her eyes never budge from the book she’s reading.

Millan knows not to speak out of terms and decides to wait until she acknowledges his presence in the room. She barely does, eyes still glued to the page in front of her.

“I’m busy, Millan. Can’t it wait?”

Of course she’s busy, Millan should have known better.

He bites his lip and looks down at the bouquet of flowers he intended to give her, ashamed to have disturbed his mother.

“Sorry, it can wait, yeah.”

“Good.”

The pending anger in that simple word stops Millan from adding anything else. He scurries away and opts to put the flowers in a vase, placing them right at the center of the kitchen table.

Hopefully, she’ll notice come dinner time.

“And so we thought, maybe you could teach him what you’ve learned. What do you think?”

Millan blinks twice.

Right. Grant is talking. The Council is looking at Millan as if they expect him to say something.

What did Grant say?

They want him to teach someone something?

“Uhm, sorry… what?”

“Mill? Are you okay?”

Millan turns towards Weston’s worried expression. Millan has a habit of bringing that expression forward often.

It’s a skill. One he has no control over, apparently.

“Yeah. I’m fine. I’m great.” Millan tries for a reassuring smile and probably delivers a very uncomfortable looking one instead.

Oh well… He’s learned pretty quickly that there’s no fooling a fated mate anyway.

“Just zoned out for a bit, sorry. You want me to teach who what?”

Grant sends a stern look Weston’s way, as if to blame him for Millan's short attention span which Millan finds a bit revolting.

They might be soul mates, but Millan still has full control over his actions. If Grant wants to be pissed at someone it should be Millan.

“As Amir kindly explained to you earlier, or maybe you didn’t listen to him either, we believe Axel Brook has made an alliance with another pack, thus the reinforcements in his border troops. We need to send a spy to collect information on that new alliance and they thought-“

Weston coughs loudly, momentarily interrupting Grant who corrects himself.

“WE thought that you could train our spies,” Judging by the tautness in Grant’s jaw, it pains him to ask for Millan's help.

As he takes in the other members of the Council though, everybody else seems completely at ease with the request. Even Malakai Blayne displays a kind smile, as if encouraging Millan to accept.

Millan is confused.

What is it that they want him to teach?

He can’t imagine being of much value to such a powerful handful of people.

“I… don’t think that I can.”

Grant uncrosses his arms, a satisfied smirk on his face.

“I told you it was pointless.”

“Shut up, Grant.” Although Amir’s voice is calm, his eyes send daggers towards Grant.

Weston turns to Millan beside him, grabbing Millan's chair and swiveling it so that they face each other.

“Millan, what are you talking about? You can’t or you won’t?”

Now Millan couldn’t be more puzzled.

“If I could help you, I would. I just…” Millan shrugs, “I don’t know what you want me to teach your spies that they don’t already know.”

Weston shakes his head, a small smile tracing his lips.

“Mill,” Weston sighs, “Trust me, they’d be lucky to learn anything from you.”

Millan furrows his eyebrows, trying to figure out what it is they’re talking about.

“Like what?”

“Exactly my point,” Grant murmurs under Amir’s rigid stare.

“Like how you knew Jace was following you when you first arrived here.” Amara says in a soft tone.

“Or how you managed to lose his tail a couple of times.” Amir says, eyes still glaring at Grant.

Millan turns back to Weston,

“Can’t your spies already do that?”

Immediately after saying it, Millan realizes he might have offended the whole Council, but Weston’s smile only grows a bit and Millan internally sighs in relief.

“Jace is one of them. And you outsmarted him more than once. So… sure, they’re good, but you’re better.”

It’s surprising to see a Pack Alpha admit to a weakness so casually and Millan can’t help but smile back at him.

“So… will you help?” Amir is now looking at Millan expectantly, as is the rest of the Council.

Although Millan isn’t sure he can really help that much, he doesn’t see a problem in trying.

“Sure. I’ll do what I can.”