Chapter 81
Tristan
Before I can face my uncle, before I can even think about dealing with anyone in this pack, there's someone I should have come back to decades ago.
Someone I've avoided for fifty years—out of fear, out of shame, out of the kind of cowardice I spent my whole life pretending I didn't have.
The trail to Stone Lake feels smaller than I remember, but the air hasn't changed. It's still thick with pine and cold earth, the scent of water drifting ahead like a memory.
Stone Lake smells the same—pine sap, cold earth, and that sharp mineral bite that clings to the air near open water.
It hits me harder than any punch ever has.
Fifty years, and the scent hasn't changed.
I wish I could say the same about me.
The lake appears between the trees—broad, silver, impossibly still.
Stone Lake was always like that. Unmoving. Watching. Reflective in a way that made you want to tell it the truth even if it tore you open.
