Chapter 2

The next day, Serena officially moved into our pack house.

She said her ex-mate had been stalking her. That she was scared. Cain didn't say a single word to me about it — by the time I got back to the manor, the guest room already had fresh sheets.

"She's someone I grew up with," Cain said, leaning against the doorframe, his tone like he was commenting on the weather. "I can't just watch her get threatened."

I didn't argue. Arguing had never worked in this house.

Serena's first day, she filled the living room with her scented candles. The whole floor reeked so badly it burned your throat.

Three years ago, Cain had set the rule himself — "No scented candles in the manor. Ivy's allergic." He'd said it in front of the entire pack, voice leaving no room for debate.

Now the house was thick with candle smoke, and Cain walked through the living room without a word.

That evening I went to the kitchen for water and passed the study. The door was open.

Cain and Serena sat shoulder to shoulder on the sofa, a territory map spread in front of them. Serena's head rested on his shoulder, her finger tracing lines across the map.

She spotted me and immediately waved. "Ivy! Come look — we're planning the fall hunt routes. You handle the medical supplies, right? We should coordinate."

"I need to organize the herb inventory tomorrow," I said. "I'm heading out."

I turned and left before she could respond.

The next morning at breakfast, Serena shoved her phone in Cain's face.

On the screen was an old photo — two twelve-year-olds. Serena piggyback on Cain, arms around his neck. Cain's expression screamed annoyance, but he hadn't thrown her off.

Serena was laughing so hard she collapsed on the table. "Remember? The day of your first shift, you were so scared you hid in a tree hollow and wouldn't come out. I had to drag you out."

Cain sipped his coffee. "I wasn't hiding. I was scouting the terrain."

"Liar!" Serena slapped the table, cackling.

I stood by the table pouring water. Didn't speak.

Cain's gaze swept over to me. His lips moved like he was about to say something.

But Serena had already swiped to the next photo, tugging his arm to make him look. Their heads bent together again.

Late that night, Cain pushed open my bedroom door.

He smelled entirely of Serena.

His hand slid slowly from my waist to my lower belly. I bit my lip. My body arched toward him — I couldn't control it.

My wolf had zero resistance to his touch.

Cain lowered his head and kissed my neck.

I gagged.

My stomach lurched violently. I shoved him away, rolled over, clamped my hand over my mouth, and dry-heaved at the edge of the bed for several seconds.

Cain froze.

"I was handling a batch of toxic roots in the herb garden this afternoon," I managed between breaths. "Might've inhaled some of the dust."

He watched me for a moment. Didn't come closer.

The silence hadn't lasted ten seconds before Serena's voice floated up from downstairs, thick with tears: "Cain! I think there's a rogue outside the garden wall! I heard something!"

Cain didn't hesitate for a single second. He sprang off the bed, grabbed his jacket, and was gone.

I heard him rallying guards downstairs, assigning patrol routes. The front door opened and closed.

An hour later, the guards reported back. Nothing outside the wall. No trace of rogues. No footprints. Not even a broken twig.

But Cain didn't come back upstairs for the rest of the night.

I woke at some point to a low, soft voice. Cain's. Gentle: "It's okay. No one's going to touch you."

I rolled over to face the wall and closed my eyes.

The next day, Cain showed up in my herb workshop.

He was holding a letter — a formal invitation from Healer Laurent, head healer of the Silvercrest Pack, offering me a position as an herbal researcher in the Northern Territory.

I'd hidden it at the bottom of my workbench. He'd found it by accident.

"When did you start talking to Silvercrest?" He dropped the letter on the table.

"At the last cross-pack herb exchange. Healer Laurent reviewed a few of my formulas. That letter went out to several she-wolves with herbal training — I wasn't the only one."

Cain stared at me, then pushed the letter back across the table. "Silvercrest is the most powerful pack in the north. There's no way they'd genuinely recruit an Omega for research. You wouldn't survive up there."

He paused, then shifted his tone. "I can make you Blackwood's head herbalist. The entire supply would be yours to manage."

I said nothing.

Cain was always like this. Dismissing my work as insignificant with one breath, then chaining it to the Blackwood name with the next.

Everything I'd accomplished — every formula, every breakthrough — ended up filed under "Blackwood Pack." No one remembered my name.

I opened my mouth, but before I could speak —

The workshop door swung open. Serena walked in wearing one of Cain's dark grey dress shirts, the hem brushing her upper thighs, only the middle two buttons fastened.

"Cain, Ashford sent a courier," she said, leaning against the doorframe. "There are a couple of issues with the alliance terms they need you to finalize by this afternoon. I took a look — two clauses have wording problems. Want to go over them now?"

Cain stood up. Laurent's invitation still lay open on the table. He didn't glance at it again.

He walked out of the workshop with Serena, one after the other.

After the door closed, I picked up the letter. Unfolded it. Smoothed it flat.

At the very bottom of the response form: "Do you accept the invitation?"

I picked up a pen and checked yes.