The Pack House

Chapter 4

Morning light filtered through the tall windows of the pack house dining hall, turning the long oak table gold. The room was already full when Kaden and I walked in—wolves of all ages scattered around the table, plates piled with eggs, bacon, fresh bread, and fruit. The air smelled of coffee, fried meat, and the faint undercurrent of wolf musk. Conversation paused for half a heartbeat when we entered, eyes flicking to us—curious, assessing, some friendly, some guarded.

Kaden’s hand rested lightly on my lower back, guiding me toward two empty seats near the center. He didn’t hover, didn’t make a show of it—just steady presence. I appreciated that more than I wanted to admit.

“Morning, everyone,” he said easily, voice carrying without effort. “This is Arelia. My wife. Your beta.”

A chorus of greetings rolled back—some warm “welcome”s, a few nods, a couple of younger wolves grinning wide. I managed a small smile, the mask slipping into place automatically. Sit. Nod. Don’t draw attention.

Kaden pulled out my chair first, then his own. A plate was already waiting for me—someone had set it. Eggs, toast, a small bowl of berries. Simple. Thoughtful.

I stared at it for a second too long.

Kaden noticed. He leaned in slightly, voice low. “Eat what you want. Or don’t. No pressure here.”

I picked up the fork and took a bite. It tasted like nothing, but I chewed anyway.

Conversation resumed around us—talk of patrols, a recent border check, someone complaining about the weather turning cold too early. I listened, letting the voices wash over me, keeping my eyes on my plate.

Then a voice cut through the hum—feminine, sharp and loud enough to carry.

“So this is the Nightwyn girl.”

Lila, the tall she-wolf with sleek blonde hair and an athletic body who had been standing with the guards near Darius yesterday, leaned forward from across the table, a smirk twisting her lips. “Didn’t expect the beta’s new toy to look so… fragile. Like a porcelain doll that might shatter if someone breathes on it too hard. Hope she’s got more than looks, or she won’t last a week in this pack.”

A few snickers rippled down the table. Not everyone, but enough to make the air feel heavier.

I didn’t move. Kept my gaze down. Said nothing. The old habit—don’t react, don’t give them ammunition—kept my body locked in place.

Kaden set his fork down with a deliberate click.

“Lila.”

She raised a brow. “What? Just saying what everyone’s thinking.”

Kaden’s voice stayed calm, but there was an edge now—clear, unyielding. “You’re speaking to my wife. Your beta. Show respect, or find somewhere else to eat.”

The table quieted.

Lila’s smirk faltered. She opened her mouth, closed it, and looked away.

A low whistle came from the end of the table—Ronan, another one of the warriors, grinning. “Already defending the wife, huh.”

Someone laughed. Someone tsked and the tension broke.

Conversation picked up again, lighter, like nothing had happened.

Kaden turned back to me, voice dropping to a murmur only I could hear. “Ignore her. She’s always testing boundaries. Doesn’t mean anything.”

I nodded once.

But inside, the hollow ache eased just a fraction. He hadn’t hesitated. Hadn’t made it a spectacle. Just handled it—gentle with me, firm with her. I took another bite, the toast tasting a little less like ash.

Halfway through breakfast, the doors at the far end opened.

Darius walked in.

The room didn’t go silent this time—wolves were used to him—but heads turned. He moved straight to the head of the table, black t-shirt stretched across his chest, dark jeans, hair still damp like he’d come straight from a shower. He didn’t sit. Just grabbed an apple from the bowl in the center, took a bite, eyes scanning the room for something—or rather somebody.

They soon landed on me.

His eyes held mine without blinking and my fork froze.

And then his scent hit me again—pine, citrus, smoke—like a memory I couldn’t shake. Heat bloomed low, unwanted, traitorous. I forced my eyes back to my plate, heart thudding too loud in my ears.

He walked around the table—slow, deliberate—until he was standing behind the chair next to mine.

Kaden glanced up. “Morning.”

Darius didn’t answer him.

He looked down at me instead.

“Settling in?” he asked, voice low and rough. Casual, like small talk. But the way he said it—eyes flicking over me like I was an unwelcome guest—made it feel like a challenge.

I lifted my chin and met his eyes. Storm-grey. Unreadable. And unblinking.

“Yes.”

He took another bite of the apple, chewing slowly. “Good. Wouldn’t want the alliance to fall apart because you can’t handle it.”

The words landed like a slap—off-handed, but sharp. Dismissive.

Kaden tensed beside me. “Darius—”

I spoke before he could. Flat. Controlled. “I can handle it.”

Darius’s mouth twitched—almost a smirk, colder. He held my gaze a second longer, then turned and walked out, apple still in hand.

The people around the table exhaled.

Ronan whistled again. “Alpha’s cranky today, must be all the travelling.”

Kaden looked at me, eyes soft. “You all right?”

I nodded.

But inside, the ache sharpened—because Father would hate to find out I fucked up....