Chapter 37

Mabel’s POV

I barely registered the last stretch of forest clearing before we were standing before it—the packhouse. My heart skipped, and my feet dragged like lead. The perfectly manicured lawn, the towering mansion—everything felt wrong, too structured, too perfect. Not like the freedom of the woods.

The grass beneath my feet turned to soft, reluctant steps as I approached. A shiver of discomfort twisted in my gut. This was it. This would be home.

"Here we are, Mabel," Zane’s voice broke through the stillness, firm and matter-of-fact as his hand tugged me forward.

Home?

I tried to hold my thoughts steady, but all I could think was: This is not home. I didn’t belong here. Not in this massive, grand place. The packhouse was for people like Zane—those who mattered. But me? I was no one. Just a girl with nowhere else to go.

I forced myself to look around, needing to stay alert, just in case. You never know when you’ll need to make a quick exit.

The packhouse was bigger than the one at Silverwood. Everything here felt more... refined. From the side, Zane led the way toward the front entrance, revealing a circular driveway, green plants lining its borders, and topiary trees trimmed into perfect spirals.

It was... beautiful in its simplicity. I preferred it to the overdone Silverwood house with its gaudy flowers and artificial ponds.

Before I could admire it any longer, the door swung open. And that’s when I heard her.

“Well, look who finally decided to show up,” Tina’s voice rang out with teasing humor, though her eyes didn’t miss a thing.

My heart lurched as I realized—I’m still holding his hand.

I tried to pull away quickly, but Zane’s grip tightened, not painfully, but firm. His hand was too warm, too possessive.

“Zane—let go,” I hissed, a panic bubbling in my chest. This is wrong. This is so wrong. I yanked at his hand, but he didn't move. Instead, I found myself shrinking behind him, hiding my struggle from Tina’s prying eyes.

“Let go... please,” I whispered in a rush, still tugging, my heart beating too fast.

He didn’t let go right away. In fact, he seemed to enjoy my discomfort, his grip strong enough to keep me tethered, yet just soft enough not to hurt. He was testing me.

“You said it was only if I trip or get lost,” I whispered urgently. “We’re here now. We made it.”

The words sounded hollow, but they were the only argument I could muster.

Tina stood at the door, waiting. I couldn’t see her face well, but I knew she was watching. She didn’t know what I did. All she saw was a girl squirming behind Zane, a sight I would be mortified to be caught in.

Finally, Zane loosened his grip, and my hand fell free. The loss of contact felt... emptier than I thought it would.

He looked down at his hand as if it belonged to someone else, his fists clenched, and I could see the tension in his shoulders. But still, he didn’t reach for me again.

“Tina,” Zane began, his tone flat as he finally spoke, “this is Mabel. The one I mentioned.”

Tina looked me over, though her gaze didn’t linger as long as I feared. She smiled politely, but it didn’t reach her eyes—not really. She was too observant, too guarded.

“Hi, Mabel. Welcome,” she said, her voice more friendly than her eyes, and gestured for us to enter.

“Come on in. Food’s ready. We can talk inside.”

The interior was nothing like I imagined. Clean lines, soft lighting, and windows so large the room seemed to breathe. Fresh air mixed with the scent of the forest—and with it, the unmistakable trace of dark chocolate. Zane’s scent lingered like a shadow, constant and overwhelming.

It was peaceful in a way that didn’t match my expectation of what a packhouse would feel like. If I closed my eyes, the scent of pine and the open air made it feel almost... like the forest. Not a cold, intimidating place filled with power struggles and rules. But that didn’t change the fact that I wasn’t supposed to be here.

Some of the Omegas peeked out from behind a corner, eyes locked on Zane with soft, hopeful gazes. It didn’t take long for me to figure them out. They wouldn’t be approaching him, not unless they had some reason to be useful to him.

The dining room was simple but elegant. A long, rectangular table set in the center, enough space for twenty, but it was just the four of us at the moment. Light gray furniture, deep red cushioned chairs, and a spread of food that made my mouth water instantly. Fruits, waffles, spreads—it smelled divine.

“I’ll get the coffee,” Tina said, her voice light, before disappearing into another room.

Zane walked to his usual seat at the head of the table and gestured for me to sit beside him. Beside him. I wasn’t used to this. Not at all.

“Do you want orange juice, milk, or coffee?” he asked, his voice more casual than I was used to.

“Orange juice,” I replied, my voice barely a whisper as he poured the drink for me.

Tyler and Vivian joined us, their presence filling the room with an easygoing energy. But I couldn’t focus on them yet. Not when the smell of the food was all around me, overwhelming every thought in my head.

Tina returned with a kettle of steaming coffee and poured it into Zane’s cup.

“Second breakfast?” Tina asked Tyler and Vivian.

“How could I leave my Alpha to eat alone?” Tyler answered with a teasing grin, holding up his empty cup to Tina. “And here I thought I’d get to eat in peace.”

“Well, he’s not alone,” Vivian said, glancing at me.

I felt their eyes on us. My stomach twisted with embarrassment. Zane was feeding me, and I hated the attention.

“Stop staring. It’s not a circus,” Zane muttered, clearly irritated by their interest.

I had no idea why I was suddenly the subject of their curiosity, but I didn’t like it. Zane was... different with me. Not in the way I imagined an Alpha should be. He was patient, maybe too patient, as he pushed a plate toward me, offering a fork with a single, simple instruction: “Eat.”

“Do you want jam or syrup?” he asked.

I hesitated. Jam or syrup? It had been so long since I’d had something so... luxurious. A luxury I didn’t deserve.

I looked at the plate—fresh waffles, strawberries, whipped cream, and syrup that shimmered under the light. The simplicity of it was almost too much for me to process.

When I didn’t answer, Zane took charge, placing a few strawberries beside the waffle, drizzling syrup over one half and plum jam over the other.

I shook my head, stopping him from feeding me.

“You’ve done enough,” I whispered.

But Zane simply started cutting the waffle into bite-sized pieces, still not taking no for an answer.

“Mabel...” His voice held something unspoken, an undercurrent of something protective. “These are Tyler and Vivian. Betas of the Stonebrook. And Tina here takes care of the packhouse. If you need anything, you ask them.”

He didn’t stop there. He added, “They might tease you sometimes, but they won’t hurt you. If they make you uncomfortable, you tell me. You’re part of this pack now.”

With that, Zane pushed the plate of cut-up waffles closer to me, then placed a fork in my hand. “Eat. Now.”

His tone didn’t leave room for argument.

I mumbled a thank you, slowly, carefully taking the first bite. It was sweet. Soft.

And then I thought—What the hell am I doing here?

The familiar feeling of being out of place crept back in, but this time, I tried to push it down. For now, all I could do was eat.