The path into the heart of the pack lands wound through towering pines and moss-covered stones, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and smoke from distant hearths. Every step I took was measured, my senses stretched thin. I felt eyes on me from every direction.

  Shadows moved between the trees, some too fluid to be human. A flash of gray fur darted along a ridge. A pair of yellow eyes caught the light and vanished just as quickly. When we emerged into a wide clearing dotted with cabins and firepits, the stares became undeniable.

  Men turned their heads as we passed, some leaning against doorframes, others crouched beside half-shifted wolves at their sides. Conversations faltered. The air buzzed with low voices pitched too soft for me to make out every word, but I caught enough.

  “Is it her?”

  “Has he finally found his mate?”

  “It’s been years…”

  Heat pricked at my cheeks. I glanced at Thorne, but his stride never faltered. His shoulders were squared, his gaze fixed ahead as if he hadn’t heard a single word. Riven walked just behind me, close enough that his presence felt like a barrier between me and the sea of eyes.

  I wanted to disappear into the dirt. I wasn’t Thorne’s mate, was I? Could I be? The very thought tangled into a knot in my chest, part fear, part something I didn’t dare name.

  A low growl rippled through the clearing, cutting through the whispering voices. My gaze snapped toward the sound, and I froze.

  A wolf, larger than any I had ever seen in the wild, padded toward us, his paws sinking into the soft earth with a deliberate, measured stride. His fur was the color of ash, streaked with silver that caught the light, and his eyes burned an unnatural gold that seemed to see straight through me.

  Every instinct screamed at me to back away, but my feet wouldn’t move.

  The wolf stopped only a few paces in front of us. His gaze lingered on me, sharp and unblinking, before shifting to Thorne. Something passed between them, respect, challenge, recognition, and then, without warning, the wolf’s form began to shudder.

  Bones cracked. Fur receded. Muscles twisted and reshaped. I gasped as, before my eyes, the beast folded inward and rose as a man.

  The transformation was over in moments.

  Where the wolf had stood now was a broad-shouldered man with dark hair tied back, skin marked with faint scars across his chest and arms. His golden eyes were the same, though, and they held the same intensity that had made my breath catch in my throat moments ago.

  He didn’t look at me at first. His focus was entirely on Thorne. His mouth curved into a wry, almost disbelieving smile.

  “Didn’t think you’d bring her here.” His voice was low, steady, but tinged with something I couldn’t place, not suspicion exactly, but wariness.

  Thorne’s jaw tightened, though his voice stayed calm. “Stand down, Brennar. She’s with me.”

  For a long, taut moment, Brennar didn’t move. Then he inclined his head, slowly, deliberately, an acknowledgment, maybe even acceptance. When his gaze finally shifted to me, it was piercing, weighing, but not cruel.

  He gave the barest nod. “Then she’s under my protection, too.”

  The words landed heavier than I expected, and though my shoulders ached from the tension, I managed to straighten under his gaze.

  Brennar’s expression softened just enough for warmth to slip through. He clasped Thorne’s forearm in greeting, the gesture firm and familiar. “Good to have you back, Alpha.”

  Thorne returned the clasp with a quiet nod. “It’s good to be back.”

  The crowd seemed to loosen around us at that, whispers dying off, the air shifting from suspicion to a kind of cautious acceptance.

  Riven leaned down, his voice low at my ear, lips curving into a smirk I could feel more than see. “Keep your chin up. Don’t let them smell fear.”

  I tried. But my heart was still pounding from what I had just witnessed, the memory of snapping bones and golden eyes burned into me.

  I stiffened at the advice, trying to do as he said, though my heart was pounding so hard I swore the wolves could hear it. The clearing seemed to ripple with unspoken questions as we walked through, every glance pinning me like a knife. Some faces were human, some still wolf, yellow eyes glinting in the shadows, ears pricked to catch every word, every shift of movement.

  Brennar fell into step beside Thorne, his presence heavy but not unkind. His pale-gold eyes flicked to me often, studying every twitch of my expression like he was measuring me against some unspoken rule. I forced myself not to shrink under the weight of his gaze.

  “You caused a stir,” Brennar muttered under his breath as we passed between cabins. Wolves in both forms watched openly from doorways and shadows. A pair of young ones, still lean and lanky, tilted their heads as though scenting me on the air. I swallowed hard.

  “Let them stir,” Thorne replied, his tone clipped. “It’ll settle.”

  Brennar’s mouth curved in the faintest grin. “Or it won’t.”

  The exchange did nothing to steady my nerves. I pulled my arms tighter around myself, wishing for Bagel’s warm weight at my side. Riven angled closer as if to shield me from the stares, though his easy stride suggested he wasn’t bothered at all.

  When we reached the cabin on the far edge, Brennar glanced toward Thorne. “She will be staying with you, then?”

  Thorne’s voice left no room for doubt. “Yes.”

  For a moment, Brennar studied me with quiet curiosity, his pale-gold eyes catching the faint glow of the firelight from the windows. Then he dipped his head slightly. “Understood, Alpha.” The title carried weight, and something in me tightened at hearing it said aloud for the first time.

  Thorne gestured toward the door. “Inside.”

  Brennar lingered one heartbeat longer, his gaze settling on me. There was no outright hostility in it, just wariness, as though he were committing every detail of me to memory. Finally, he exhaled and stepped back into the shadows. “I’ll take the watch. For tonight.”

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  Thorne gave him a single nod, nothing more, before pushing the door open. Warm light spilled out, carrying with it the smell of smoke and pine resin.

  I hesitated on the threshold, every instinct telling me I didn’t belong here, not in their pack, not in Thorne’s home, not anywhere these wolves called theirs.

  But Riven’s hand brushed the small of my back, guiding me forward. “Go on,” he said softly. “It’s warmer inside.”

  The cabin door closed behind us with a soft thud, sealing out the eyes and whispers of the pack. Heat rolled from the hearth, wrapping around my frozen skin, and I exhaled shakily, not realizing how tight my lungs had been until that moment.

  Thorne moved toward the fire with his usual, deliberate precision. Every gesture was efficient, purposeful, as if wasting motion was beneath him. He crouched near the flames, adding another log, the sparks catching briefly in his dark hair.

  Riven didn’t sit. He stayed near the door instead, arms crossed, gaze flicking over the windows and walls as though expecting something, or someone, to come bursting through them at any second. His presence was a coiled spring, silent but taut.

  I sank down onto a wooden bench against the wall. The worn planks pressed through my coat, grounding me, but my thoughts refused to steady. I could still feel the pack’s stares like needles beneath my skin, the memory of those golden eyes, those low murmurs. The weight of their suspicion had followed me inside.

  The silence stretched, filled only by the low crackle of firewood and the shuffle of Thorne unpacking supplies. The air was thick, uneasy. Then, the door creaked open.

  My heart lurched.

  Grabber stumbled through, shoulders hunched, his shirt torn and streaked with blood. Dirt smeared his jaw, and exhaustion pulled at the corners of his eyes. But it wasn’t just him that made me surge to my feet, it was the small bundle in his arms.

  “Bagel!” My voice cracked. I darted forward, throwing myself into his chest before I could stop myself. Relief hit me so hard it was dizzying, and I pressed a frantic kiss against his cheek. He froze, stiff as a board, wide-eyed.

  From the doorway, a couple of men who must’ve trailed him back let out low whistles and murmured amusement.

  “I thought… I thought I’d lost you,” I whispered against him, clutching his arm as though afraid he’d disappear if I let go.

  Grabber’s mouth twitched into an awkward grin, caught somewhere between flustered and pleased. “I’m… I’m fine. We’re fine,” he muttered, voice rough with fatigue.

  But I was already reaching for the real prize.

  “Bagel,” I breathed, pulling the cat into my arms. She blinked up at me, calm as ever, before pushing her small head against my chin with an approving rumble. I covered her in kisses, running my hands over her fur, kissing the top of her head again and again until she purred like an engine.

  The men around us laughed, sharp and genuine. Grabber’s ears went scarlet.

  Riven leaned lazily against the wall now, smirking. “Huh. Didn’t realize all you had to do to get a kiss out of her was to almost die.”

  Thorne lifted one brow, expression unreadable but eyes sharp.

  Grabber coughed, stumbling over his words. “Shut up, it’s not a big deal,” he insisted, though his lips betrayed him with the faintest ghost of a smile.

  Still cradling Bagel, I looked up at him. “You’re no ordinary cat, are you?”

  Bagel gave a slow blink, as if answering for herself.

  But Grabber straightened, more serious now, his tired eyes flashing with conviction. “She’s not,” he said firmly. “She was brilliant, and she even distracted a guard at one point to allow me to slip past.”

  Silence lingered. Then Riven barked a laugh, shaking his head. “Next thing you’ll tell us, the cat can secretly speak."

  Thorne’s mouth curved into the faintest shadow of a smirk. “Or that she’s your battle partner.”

  Grabber shot them both a glare, his ears red again, but his jaw held stubbornly. “Mock me all you want. You didn’t see her.”

  Bagel stretched across my lap like a queen being praised, her tail flicking in lazy satisfaction. Her golden eyes swept across each of them in turn, lingering on Thorne longer than the rest, before she tucked herself neatly into my arms, purring smugly.

  The laughter softened, trailing into thoughtful quiet. The fire popped and hissed, filling the space between us. For the first time since we’d arrived, the silence didn’t feel hostile, just heavy with things unsaid.

  Thorne broke it first, his voice low. “We’ll need to be careful, at least for the next few days. The pack won’t approach openly, not yet, but they’ll be watching. Testing. We don’t give them reason to think we’re weak.”

  Riven gave a sharp nod. “So what’s the plan? Keep her tucked in here? That’ll only feed the whispers.”

  “Whispers?” I asked quickly, tightening my arms around Bagel.

  Grabber shifted in his chair, glancing at me. “They’ll talk. They already are. Packs thrive on stories, good and bad. Until they’ve decided who you are, you’re whatever rumor paints you to be.”

  A chill skated down my spine. “And what do I tell them? If they ask me something? If they -” I faltered. “I don’t even know what half their words mean.”

  Thorne’s gaze softened slightly. He leaned forward, forearms braced on his knees. “You don’t owe them anything. Not yet. But if you want to speak… keep it simple. Direct. Respect matters here.”

  I frowned, brushing Bagel’s fur between my fingers. “And they’ll just… accept me? Just like that?”

  “They’ll need time to accept you as another member.” Riven said, blunt as a blade. “Right now, all they see is an outsider at Thorne’s side. That makes them cautious. And dangerous.”

  “Not all of them,” Grabber put in quickly. “Some will give you a chance. You’ve got more allies here than you think, they just don’t know it yet.”

  That startled a laugh out of me. “Allies? Like who?”

  He grinned crookedly, pointing at Bagel, who lifted her head as though she’d understood. “For starters. Best battle partner I’ve ever had.”

  Riven groaned, muttering something under his breath, but Thorne’s expression stayed steady, thoughtful. He turned back to me. “You’ll have to earn it. Their trust. Their loyalty. No one can give it to you, not even me.”

  The words landed heavy, and made me feel more alone. I hugged Bagel closer, her steady purr filling the silence that followed.

  The four of us sat in silence at first, shadows flickering across the cabin walls, firelight glinting off steel and the strain etched into tired faces. It wasn’t comfort, not yet. But it felt like the shape of something forming.

  I sat in the circle of firelight, Bagel warm and steady in my lap, her purr a thread pulling me through the storm of their voices. Even when the men weren't looking at me, I felt them all, Thorne’s watchfulness, Riven’s sharp calculation, Grabber’s tension. Their protectiveness pressed in just as tightly as their doubts.

  When they finally spoke, their voices stayed low, deliberate. Not quite argument, not quite agreement, strategy laced with unease. The same worries circled again and again: should I be kept out of sight, how quickly the pack might test me, what would happen if word spread beyond these woods.

  Grabber broke the weight of it with a half-laugh, shaking his head. “You’re both overthinking this. Let her breathe. She has survived so far, hasn’t she? The pack will either see that or they won’t. Nothing we say here changes it.”

  Riven shot him a look, but didn’t reply. Thorne only leaned back in his chair, expression unreadable, as though the firelight could burn away the thoughts neither of them wanted to share aloud.

  Outside, a long howl rose, and the forest answered. One voice became three, then more, until the sound throbbed through the walls like a living heartbeat. Not a lonely cry to the moon, but a chorus. A declaration. A pack.

  I swallowed, my hand curling tighter around Bagel’s fur. Could I ever belong to something like that? Or would I always be the stranger at its edges, the danger their instincts warned them to fear?

  Bagel shifted, pressing her small head against my throat, her steady purr like a promise that at least she had already chosen. I clung to that, letting it soothe the ache inside my chest.

  The fire popped. Their voices faded into a low murmur, growing indistinct as my eyelids grew heavier. Despite the weight of doubt in the room, the cabin felt safer than it had when I’d first stepped inside.

  I let myself sink, drifting toward sleep with Bagel curled against me and the wolves’ chorus echoing through the night, a song I didn’t yet know if I was meant to join.

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