Chapter 7: The Weight of One Bag

NIKOLAI

I gave the orders before the dust from the challenge settled.

Adrian was under guard in his personal quarters. Daniel was not to leave Crescent territory—if he moved toward the border, he was to be stopped. Theo was to report to me before sundown. And every document connected to Aaron and Daniella Vale's accusation, trial, and execution was to be brought to me immediately.

Later, around mid-afternoon, I was standing in Adrian's former office, watching the training grounds. Warriors trained in both human and wolf forms, their movements jerky and awkward.

"How has this pack kept standing for so long with such poor training?" I wondered aloud.

Orion entered without knocking, wearing the expression he wore when he was deciding whether to say something.

He said it.

"You conquered Crescent in under a day, stripped an Alpha publicly, and have at least six immediate political matters demanding your attention." He tilted his head. "Why are you investigating a thirteen-year-old case?"

"Because someone spent thirteen years punishing a child for it."

His expression held. "The Omega."

I turned toward the window.

"She's your mate," he said behind me—not a question. The specific certainty of a man who had watched me operate for over a century and had just witnessed something that didn't fit the pattern. "Isn't she."

My body went rigid before I could prevent it.

I turned back.

Orion's amber eyes were too perceptive for someone who worked so hard at appearing unconcerned. He watched me with the particular attention he reserved for things he found genuinely interesting—which meant he had already made his assessment and was waiting to see how I handled being read correctly.

"The investigation concerns Crescent's records," I said. "Not your curiosity."

"Your jaw went tight the moment I said it."

"Where are the records I asked for?"

"You're deflecting. You never deflect."

"Orion."

He raised both hands—the gesture of a man who had made his point and was choosing to survive it—and stepped back. "Records. Investigating. Message received." The corner of his mouth lifted. "For what it's worth—she didn't run when she saw you after the courtyard. Most people run."

He turned and walked before I could respond.

Maybe it was Draven or instinct, but I found myself standing in the kitchen doorway, watching a scene unfold before me. I stepped forward.

"Move your hand," I gritted out through clenched teeth, "and I won't ask what you were doing with it."

A young woman—not much older than Anaiyah—dropped her hand to her side immediately. "I was only—"

"I didn't invite an explanation." I stopped a few feet from her, keeping my voice low. Never rose. "Touch her again, and I will personally ensure that your standing in this pack reflects exactly how much I value wolves who put their hands on what belongs to me." My gaze moved over her once. Unhurried. "We understand each other."

The girl's chin dropped in submission. She left without a backward glance.

Anaiyah watched her go, then turned to me. "I had it handled."

"Your face was two inches from water."

"Strategically." She crossed her arms. "I was calculating an exit."

“I want you moved to my quarters for the duration of my stay.”

Anaiyah stared at me. “I’m sorry?”

“My quarters. Tonight.”

“In what capacity exactly?”

“As my mate.”

Draven surged forward, impatient and certain. ‘Mine. Now.’

I ignored him.

Anaiyah’s expression shifted. I recognized the caution beneath it. She had learned to expect men with power to make demands, then punish her for resisting.

“I appreciate the offer,” she said carefully, “but the storage room is—”

“A converted closet with a broken cot. You’re not staying there.”

“I’ve stayed there for years—”

“Then that ends tonight. You won't work kitchen rotations or Omega assignments for this pack while you're under my authority. That also ends tonight."

She pressed her teeth together. “I don’t know how to—”

“You’ll learn.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t argue.

I held the door open. “Pack what you need.”

She returned a short time later with a single knapsack.

I looked at it. Then at her.

“Is there more?”

“No.”

“In the room?”

“No. That’s all—” She shifted the strap on her shoulder. “That’s all I own.”

The muscle in my jaw moved once.

She squared her shoulders as if waiting for an outburst.

I reached past her and closed the door. Then I crossed to the wardrobe on the far wall, opened it, and stood for a moment, looking at its contents.

I pulled out a folded set of clothes—wool and cotton, nothing worn thin at the elbows—and set them on the bed without ceremony. Then a second set. A third.

“These belonged to the former Luna’s guest quarters,” I told her. “They’ll do for now.”

She looked at the clothes.

Then at me.

“You don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t have to.”

I gestured toward the far door. “Shower. Dinner is in an hour.”

Without another word, I turned back to the desk, where files waited across its surface.

She remained in the center of the room.

Lunara’s satisfaction pressed through me.

“Don’t,” Anaiyah muttered.

I glanced up.

Her wolf had spoken loudly enough for the bond to carry.

‘He is different when he is not performing.’

“I know what he is,” Anaiyah said. “Don’t.”

My jaw tightened.

She gathered the clothes and disappeared into the bath.

A few minutes later, water ran behind the closed door.

With that, I returned to the files, but the words blurred. Her knapsack remained by the door. One bag. A few belongings. Years reduced to a strap over her shoulder.

I had taken territories from men who owned more than she did and destroyed packs that had abused their people.

And I had nearly left her in a broken cot inside a converted closet because I hadn’t looked closely enough at what she had been living with.

The water continued running.

I forced myself back to the reports.

None of it held my attention.

I heard the water shut off.

A few minutes later, Anaiyah emerged in one of the sets of clothes I had placed on the bed. The fabric hung slightly loose on her frame, but she looked cleaner, warmer, and less hollowed out than she had when she first arrived.

She stopped near the door, uncertain.

“Dinner is in an hour,” I reminded her.

“I know.”

“You can sit anywhere you like.”

“I know that too.”

Her gaze moved to the knapsack by the door.

“I can put it in the wardrobe,” I offered.

“It’s fine.”

“It isn’t.”

She looked at me.

“I’ll have a proper space prepared for your things tomorrow,” I said. “Tonight, it stays where you can reach it.”

Something in her expression eased.

“Thank you.”

I set the reports aside. “I’m leaving Silver Crest in two days.”

Her brows lifted. "Where?"

“Silver Crest.”

“Oh.”

“Come with me.”

She went still.

“I’m not ordering you,” I added. “I’m asking.”

Her fingers curled around the sleeve of her borrowed shirt. She considered the offer, her gaze moving toward the window and the pack grounds beyond it.

I waited.

No pressure. No command.

A knock sounded at the door.

I crossed the room and opened it.

Orion stood in the corridor, a folder in his hand.

His usual charm had vanished.