CHAPTER 6

The sound of laughter hit me before I even stepped into the dining room.

I froze at the doorway, fingers curling against the wooden frame. The air inside was warm, carrying the scent of baked bread, honey, and something spicy I couldn’t name. I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry.

Then, one by one, heads turned toward me.

The room fell silent.

My heart slammed in my chest. I could feel every heartbeat echo in my ears. The weight of their gazes — curious, assessing — pressed against me until I thought my knees might give out.

I took a step back, breath catching.

Maybe I shouldn’t have come. Maybe I was supposed to wait until they called me.

I was already messing up.

I turned slightly, ready to slip away —

“Hey,” a voice called.

I stopped.

Then another voice, softer, followed, “You must be Janayah.”

A few others murmured in agreement, their tones warmer than I expected. “Welcome to the pack.”

For a moment, I didn’t know how to move. The word welcome hung in the air like something impossible. I blinked, the sting in my eyes sharp, and slowly nodded, whispering, “Thank you…”

“Come join us,” someone said kindly, motioning toward the long wooden table.

I hesitated, every instinct screaming that this was a test — that if I sat, someone would drag me away, punish me for stepping where I didn’t belong. But when no one shouted, when no hand reached for me, I forced myself to move.

One step. Then another.

I took the seat at the far end of the table, where I could blend into the shadows if needed. My eyes lifted, scanning the faces. All women.

They looked nothing like the wolves I’d known before — no sneers, no cruel grins. Some had soft smiles, some simply nodded before turning back to their plates. No one questioned me. No one laughed.

It was… unsettling. But in a way that almost felt good.

The scrape of a chair pulled my attention. A woman stood — tall, her skin a rich bronze that caught the morning light, her long braids adorned with beads and soft white feathers that brushed against her shoulders. Her dark eyes met mine, and for a second, I forgot to breathe.

“Here,” she said with a smile that was both confident and kind. “In this pack, we serve ourselves. But since you’re new, and technically our guest, I’ll do it for you today.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but she was already moving, her hands graceful as she filled a plate. The scent hit me first — warm, buttery bread rolls, golden eggs, roasted potatoes seasoned with herbs, and slices of ripe fruit glistening like jewels. She placed the plate gently in front of me, steam curling up from it.

“Would you like orange juice, water, black tea, or coffee?” she asked.

I froze. No one had ever asked me that before. Not once.

Her question hung there, patient and unhurried.

My voice came out small. “Anything, please.”

Her lips curved. “Alright, Janayah. One moment.”

When she returned, she set down a glass of orange juice — the sunlight catching it like liquid gold. “You can call me Samantha,” she said with a nod.

I looked up at her, unsure how to smile properly, but I tried. “Thank you… Samantha.”

“You’re welcome,” she said warmly, before taking her seat again.

I stared at the food, the smell alone almost dizzying. My stomach tightened painfully — I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten something that didn’t taste like ashes or fear.

Slowly, I picked up the fork. My hand trembled as I brought the first bite to my lips.

The taste was… overwhelming. Warm. Soft. Real. It melted on my tongue, and before I knew it, a small, broken sound escaped my throat. My vision blurred. I blinked fast, pretending something was in my eye, but the tears kept slipping free anyway.

I didn’t know food could taste like this — like safety. Like life.

I swallowed hard, wiping at my face quickly, hoping no one noticed.

Then, a familiar laugh came from the doorway.

Brenda.

She walked in holding her own plate, still smiling even though her hair looked like she’d wrestled the wind on her way here. “Look at you,” she teased gently as she sat beside me. “Already making friends.”

I ducked my head, embarrassed, but couldn’t stop the tiny smile tugging at my lips.

For the first time, I felt something I’d never felt before — not in the Blood Moon pack, not even in the rare dreams I allowed myself.

I felt seen.

And maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t completely unwanted anymore.

The women were laughing again, the clinking of cutlery echoing off the walls. The smell of toast and warm butter filled the air, wrapping around me in something almost comforting. I sat quietly, my hands curled around the glass in front of me, still too afraid to drink much, too afraid to break whatever calm had settled.

Brenda sat beside me, chatting lightly with Samantha, who kept sneaking gentle glances my way, as if to make sure I was okay. I didn’t say much — I didn’t know how to — but being surrounded by voices that didn’t carry cruelty felt… strange.

Nice.

And then a soft, lilting voice spoke from across the table.

“So…”

I looked up.

The girl who had spoken couldn’t have been more than eighteen, maybe nineteen. She had skin kissed by the sun, dotted with freckles that looked like gold dust under the morning light. Her honey-brown braids framed a face both gentle and sharp — like someone born curious and unafraid of questions. Her light green eyes glimmered with that same curiosity now, fixed on me.

“I’m Prisca,” she said, smiling — a kind of open, disarming smile that made it hard to stay defensive. “Sorry if I’m being nosy, but I just wanted to ask something.”

I swallowed, my fingers tightening around the glass. The air shifted again; I could feel the other women turning their attention toward us.

Prisca tilted her head slightly, her tone still gentle. “How come your name is Janayah when you look like you’re Asian?”

My breath caught in my throat.

The room went quiet. Too quiet. My chest constricted; my pulse thundered against my ribs. My eyes darted from Prisca to the table, then to Brenda, but she was mid-sip of her black coffee.

I opened my mouth, but the words tangled somewhere between my throat and my fear.

Then Brenda’s calm, even voice cut through the silence.

“She told me she was born in America, you know, here in the states,” Brenda said smoothly, lowering her cup. Her tone carried such casual confidence that even I almost believed it. “Her parents gave her that name.”

Prisca blinked — then her expression softened. “Oh. That makes sense.” She smiled again, that warm, youthful smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything bad by it. I just like to know where people come from.”

Brenda chuckled. “You say that every time someone new shows up. I’m sure Samantha remembers.”

Prisca laughed, cheeks coloring slightly. “Okay, fair.”

The others joined in, the mood lifting again like it had never dipped. The soft laughter returned, chatter resumed, and plates clinked once more.

I turned to Brenda, still stunned. She didn’t even look at me at first — just picked up a piece of bread, spread butter across it, and said quietly, “Eat. Before it gets cold.”

When she finally met my eyes, she winked.

Something inside me cracked open — that small, tender part that had forgotten what it meant to be defended.

The rest of the breakfast passed quietly for me. I barely tasted the food, though it was warm and rich and real — eggs, toast, and something sweet that melted on my tongue like honey. It filled me, not just my stomach but somewhere deeper, somewhere that had always been empty.

Brenda’s voice carried faintly beside me, soft and teasing as she told a story about her first week in the Blue Moon pack. Prisca laughed, and Samantha rolled her eyes, pretending to scold them both.

And in that small moment, surrounded by women who spoke without cruelty, something inside me whispered —

Maybe this is what belonging feels like.

I was mid-bite when the door opened.

“Morning, girls.”

Every voice around the table instantly replied, almost in unison, “Morning, Jackie.”

The sound of her boots was what caught my attention first — steady, confident, the kind that belonged to someone used to being obeyed. I looked up, and the moment I did, my heart lurched.

She was… striking.

Her hair was a deep shade of auburn, pulled into a messy ponytail that somehow made her look effortlessly fierce. Freckles dotted her face, but they didn’t soften her — they only made her sharper. A dark tattoo curled up the side of her neck — a skull entwined in roses. A small black cross earring dangled from her left ear, glinting under the morning light. And her eyes — gods, her eyes were something else — red-brown, like embers that refused to die out.

She scanned the room, and when her gaze landed on me, I froze.

“You’re the girl Alpha brought last night,” Jackie said, voice even — not harsh, but not gentle either. She said it like a fact she’d already decided what to do with.

My chair scraped back too fast as I stood, my heart thundering. “I— I am,” I managed, my voice barely steady.

“Good.”

Jackie tilted her head slightly, studying me. Then she nodded once toward the hallway. “Follow me.”

My stomach twisted. I barely managed to nod, my legs already shaky beneath me. I caught Brenda’s eyes for a split second — she mouthed you’ll be fine — but that did little to stop the nervous tremor crawling up my spine.

I hurried to follow, the hem of my borrowed pants brushing against my ankles as I trailed behind Jackie. Her steps were long, assured, and I had to nearly jog to keep up. The corridors felt colder now, the air thinner.

My mind raced with questions I didn’t dare ask.

Did I do something wrong?

Was the Alpha waiting for me?

Was this about last night?

The polished floor almost slipped under my bare feet, and I stumbled once, catching myself with a sharp breath. Jackie didn’t even turn around, though I noticed the faintest tilt of her head — like she’d seen without looking.

I swallowed hard and followed, trying to keep my breathing even.

Something about her energy felt like a storm held behind glass — quiet, but dangerous if cracked open.

And as I trailed her deeper into the Blue Moon mansion, past hallways that smelled faintly of cedar and cold iron, one thought pulsed through my mind:

Wherever we were going… it wasn’t going to be ordinary.

We walked in silence. Only the sound of Jackie’s boots echoed down the hall — a steady rhythm that felt like the ticking of a clock counting down to something I wasn’t ready for.

We passed the second floor, then the third. The walls here were different — older, darker, lit only by the flicker of torches instead of chandeliers. Shadows stretched long and thin, like they were listening.

Jackie didn’t say a word, and I didn’t dare to ask where we were going. My pulse was so loud it drowned out everything else.

At last, she stopped at the end of a narrow corridor — before a large wooden door, carved with unfamiliar markings that pulsed faintly against the dim light.

The air changed. Thicker. Heavier.

It felt alive.

Jackie turned to me, her expression unreadable. “The Alpha’s waiting for you.”

I froze. “Now?”

Her lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Unless you plan on making him wait.”

My throat went dry. I opened my mouth to speak — maybe to ask why, maybe to beg for a moment to breathe — but she raised a hand.

“Listen,” she said quietly, her voice low but firm. “When you step in there, don’t speak unless he asks you to. Don’t look him in the eyes too long. And whatever happens—”

She stopped mid-sentence, her eyes narrowing slightly, as though she’d heard something I hadn’t. Then she leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper that brushed against my ear like smoke.

“—don’t let him scent your fear. He doesn’t like that.”

I swallowed hard, every muscle locking in place.

Jackie straightened, giving me one last unreadable look. Then, without another word, she pushed the heavy door open.

A cold draft swept out from the room — sharp with pine, smoke, and something darker that made my stomach twist.

Jackie stepped aside. “Go.”

I hesitated at the threshold, my heart pounding so hard it hurt. Inside, I saw nothing but shadows and the faint glow of firelight.

“Now, Janayah,” Jackie said softly, and there was something in her tone — not command, not threat, but warning.

I stepped inside.

The door closed behind me with a sound that felt too final.

And from the darkness ahead came a voice I recognized — deep, measured, and impossible to ignore.

“I was beginning to think you’d run.”

Alpha Mace.

I froze, my breath caught in my throat.

Then his voice came again — closer now, softer, but laced with something that made my skin prickle.

“Tell me, slave… Do you have any idea what you just did?”