That evening the full pack gathered once more in the cabin.
It was less formal than the first meeting, the sharp edges of distrust softened by shared blood and a common victory.
They ate together simple food, plenty of it, and the conversation stayed practical: watch rotations for the next week, how to handle any lingering questions from the sheriff’s office, whether the northern boundary needed additional markers.
When the plates were cleared, Derek set his mug down and looked around the room.
“Allison stays,” he said.
No preamble.
“Indefinitely.
She knows what we are.
She fought with us.
The claim is mine, and it is recognized.
If anyone has an objection that isn’t rooted in habit, speak it now.”
Silence held for several heartbeats.
Mara was the one who broke it.
“She held the knife and used it when it counted,” Mara said.
“That’s more than some of us managed the first time we faced that thing.
I don’t object.”
Elias nodded once.
Sable gave a short shrug that carried acceptance.
“She’s interesting,” Cal said.
“And the alpha’s been less of a closed door since she arrived.
I vote we keep the improvement.”
Rian’s agreement was quieter but clear.
Thorn simply raised his cup in a small toast.
Derek’s shoulders eased a fraction.
He turned to Allison.
“You heard them.
The pack accepts the claim.
What happens next is between you and me, but you have standing here now.
Protection.
A place.
The rest we figure out as we go.”
Allison felt the weight of every set of eyes in the room.
She met Derek’s gaze and found no pressure there, only the same steady certainty he had shown her from the beginning.
“I’ll stay,” she said.
And I’ll keep the secrets that need keeping.”
A low murmur of approval moved through the group.
The decision was sealed without ceremony.
One by one the others rose, offered quiet words or simple nods, and left into the night.
When the door closed behind the last of them, the cabin felt larger again.
Derek reached for her.
Allison went willingly into the circle of his arms, careful of the bandages, and rested her forehead against his collarbone.
“That’s it?” she asked.
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.” His voice was warm against her hair.
“The hard part was surviving the night.
The rest is living with what we decided.”
She tipped her face up and kissed him, slow and sure.
He answered in kind, the gold only a faint shimmer at the edges of his eyes now that the moon had begun to wane.
When they finally drew apart, the future no longer felt like a question that needed an immediate answer.
It simply felt possible.