Chapter 4: Redridge's own

Elara

I woke at 4:30 in the morning staring at a ceiling I didn't recognize.

I'd tossed and turned all night, given that I never slept well in new places. And last night exhaustion had been losing badly, because the other half of my brain had been occupied with something far more irritating than strange surroundings.

Him.

The man at the training post. The way his scent had wrapped around my senses even after I'd entered my room, my body reacted in a way I didn’t ask for… and didn’t appreciate.

And the most irritating part? I didn't even know his name. Maybe it's really for the best.

I threw the blanket off and got up before I could keep going down that road.

Stepping out, I found Helena at the kitchen counter working.

“Good morning,” I said.

She turned, “Good morning, sweetheart. Sleep well?”

“Yes,”

She gave me a brief, knowing look and said nothing about the lie. “Can I help with anything?”

“Not with this.” She nodded at the small clay bowl she was grinding into, “These concoctions follow a specific order. If you don't know the process, you'll ruin the balance.” She paused. “But you can take those plates in the sink.”

I crossed to the sink and got started.

The dishes didn't take long. After that I stayed and helped with breakfast.

By the time I came downstairs fully dressed, it was past seven. Mom and Helena were already at the table. We ate, talked about nothing heavy, and by eight o'clock the three of us were out the door.

***

Redridge had changed.

It's like someone had taken the pack I remembered and drawn tighter lines around it.

The registration hall was on the main road, and we heard it before we saw it. I stepped through the entrance and immediately understood why.

“Are all these people here to register?” I asked Helena.

“Not all of them. There's a meeting this morning too.” She scanned the room. “Come, let's get to the front before–”

I caught Mom's arm before we moved.

Helena stopped and looked back. I gave her my most reassuring smile. “Give us one second.”

She glanced between us, then at the crowded room, then back. “Don't take long. You don't want to look unprepared when Alpha Crassus assesses you.”

“We'll be right there,” I said, and Helena disappeared into the crowd.

I turned to Mom.

"That's the second time you've done that,” I said quietly. “Yesterday when Helena said his name. Even now. What is it?”

“It doesn't matter.”

“It matters if it affects us.”

“It won't.” She met my eyes briefly, then looked past me. “Just don't draw attention to yourself today, Elara. Please.”

She was already turning away before I could push further. I pressed my tongue against the back of my teeth. There she goes. Another thing filed away under things Ember will not discuss, and I was supposed to smile and accept the wall like I always had.

Helena reappeared at the edge of the crowd, waving us forward with sharp impatience. “Get over here,the registration has already started.”

I glance at Mom. I'll let this slide for now…

The whispers started the moment we stepped inside.

“Isn't that her?”

“Of course it's her! It's the pack's slut.”

“Nerve, coming back here like she has no shame.”

I kept my face neutral and moved toward the front of the hall like I didn't hear anything they were saying with my head high. Mom was a step behind me, and that was when I saw him.

Fiona was just behind his shoulder, clinging to him.

She saw me first.

Jason followed her gaze but the moment his gaze landed on me, his jaw tightened.

I kept walking. Straight toward the registration desk, because that was where I needed to go and I was not about to reroute my entire path because Jason Crassus was standing in it.

He stepped slightly forward as I approached.

“You really think coming back here was a good idea?”

“I live here,” I said.

“Not for long. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

I looked at him calmly. “Except, you're not the Alpha.”

Anger moved across his face.

“You think you're untouchable now?” he sneered, “Because you've been gone for a few years and played warrior with the outcasts where pathetic little wolves like you belonged?”

I just looked at him with the kind of pity you’d give a yapping dog. “At least with the outcasts, I was surrounded by real wolves who actually have the spine to stab you in the chest instead of hiding behind a camera.”

“You fucking slu…”

“What's going on here?”

The voice came from behind me low, authoritative, the kind that didn't need volume to occupy a room. I turned.

And my stomach dropped clean through the floor.

Dark hair. Dark green eyes, steady and sharp. Broad through the chest, standing with the particular stillness of someone who never needed to prove they were the most dangerous thing in a room because it was simply true.

It was the man from the training post.

Jason opened his mouth to speak,

“I wasn't asking you,” the man said, shutting him up.

Jason's jaw worked. Fiona also had gone very still. Around us, the noise of the hall had also dropped into silence.

Just who is this man?

The green eyes moved to me.

“Do you want to explain what's happening here?” he said.

I held his gaze. Made myself hold it. “I came to register. Apparently that's a problem for some people.”

He glanced at Jason and the way he actually flinched at it told me everything I needed to know about where this man stood in Redridge's order.

“Your file,” he said to me. Low. Even.

I handed it over.

He opened it. And I watched his eyes move across the pages with focused patience.

“You've been gone for two years,” he said.

“Yes.”

He looked up. “Why return now?”

I kept my voice steady. “The outcast community I was living in isn't safe anymore. Smaller packs are being hit. We had no other option.”

He held my gaze for a moment that lasted slightly longer than it needed to. Then he looked back at the file.

“Elara Voss,” he said, almost to himself. His expression didn't change. “Former member or Redridge. Left under–” he paused briefly at something on the page, “difficult circumstances.” He closed the file. “Returning under a request for pack protection.”

“Yes,” I said again.

He was quiet for one more moment. Then, evenly, and loud enough to carry:

“Redridge does not discard its own.”

It wasn't said to me. Not exactly. It was said for me, and at everyone else in the room at the same time.

I realized I might've underestimated the authority of this man when I felt the shift in posture from the people nearby who had been watching this unfold.

He handed the file back.

“Approved.”

I took it. Our fingers didn't touch. I was grateful for that because my pulse was already doing something I had no patience for.

I was about to step back when it finally assembled itself in my head, the pieces I'd been holding separately clicking into place all at once.

The way Jason had flinched at a glance. The way he'd just approved my registration without all the stamps and the rest.

The man I had threatened to castrate a few hours ago wasn't just a high-ranking warrior, he was the brutal, legendary Alpha of Redridge. Oh, god. What have I done?