All Chapters of The Lost Pack: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

** Callen’s POV ** I try not to listen in on Ryder and Paige upstairs. I really do. They’re whispering, probably so as not to wake Jaxon, but my hearing is too damn good to ignore them completely. I tell myself to focus on the dishes, on the clattering of the cutlery in the sink. But clearly, I have zero self-control, because I’m focusing so hard on their conversation that I’m going to give myself a headache. When Ryder says he wants to kiss her, I wince, bracing for her rejection. Idiot. He’s going too fast, pushing her too soon. He’s going to ruin all the progress we’d made with her in the last few hours. It goes quiet, too quiet. Are they kissing? I freeze midway through washing a fork, the soap bubbles running down my arm. I strain to hear any sign of what is happening. When they breathlessly whisper each other’s names, it sounds like something out of a chick flick. A stupid grin spreads over my face. That smooth son of a gun pulled it off! I almost whoop and fist

** Ryder’s POV ** I knew this moment was coming, but I didn’t expect the full force of it to hit me like this. Poppy stares me down like she’s the parent here, like she’s preparing to rip every secret from my chest with her bare hands. I shift my weight, leaning against the counter and trying to look casual, but there’s no hiding from her stare. I have to remind myself she is a young human girl, and I am a powerful alpha of an entire pack of werewolves. Paige stands nearby, watching me nervously, and Callen looks like he’s one poorly timed comment away from bursting into laughter. “Ryder Madden,” Poppy says again, chastising me like a child. “You better have a damn good explanation for where you’ve been the last seven years. You disappeared. No calls. No texts. Just gone without a trace. You just left her, left them without a word. Who does that?” I inhale deeply and nod, holding up my hands. “I know. I deserve your anger. I do.” “Damn right you do,” she say

** Paige’s POV ** The moment the word leaves my lips, the energy in the room shifts. Callen gets to his feet, far too graceful for a regular human male. He looks predatory as he looks down at me, but when he extends a hand to me, it feels more like an offer than a demand. He’s still giving me a choice, a chance to back out. My breath catches in my throat as I slide my fingers into his. He pulls me to my feet and I almost crash into his chest. Ryder stands behind me, and I feel the heat of his body before I feel his touch. His hand rests lightly on my lower back. The small contact and the feeling of them boxing me in makes my knees weak. Without a word, the pair guide me upstairs. The air feels heavier with every step, charged with a raw desire that threatens to suffocate me. When we reach Ryder’s bedroom, Callen nudges the door open and leads me inside. It’s dimly lit, moonlight spilling across the bed, illuminating it like a stage. Everything in me screams t

** Parker’s POV ** I follow Remy through the back door and into the morning chill. The sun is over the treetops, casting shadows across the grass, but the warmth hasn’t reached us yet. Remy’s pacing along the tree line, his jaw tight, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie like he’s trying to hold himself together. He doesn’t look at me when I stop beside him. He just stares out toward the forest like it might offer him an escape. “You okay?” I ask. He laughs bitterly. “Why wouldn’t I be?” I shrug, giving him time to decide if he wants to talk. The silence is brief before Remy exhales and shakes his head. “I can’t do this anymore, Parker. I can’t keep pretending I’m fine when I’m not.” “I know,” I say softly. His eyes finally meet mine. They’re bloodshot, like he’s barely slept. “Do you?” “Yes, I’ve known for a while.” His shoulders stiffen. “Known what?” “That you’re in love with him.” He blinks, then swallows hard, his voice crack

** Callen’s POV ** I find Remy where I knew I would. Not far into the woods, just beyond the clearing where we used to meet up to be alone. He’s sitting on a fallen tree, elbows on his knees, head down. The hoodie he wore earlier is bunched around his arms, like he pulled it off in frustration. He doesn’t turn when I approach, but I know he hears me. “Don’t,” he says, voice hoarse. “I’m not in the mood.” I ignore that and sit beside him anyway, far enough to give him space, close enough to make sure he knows I want to be near him. There’s a heavy silence for a moment before he exhales and gets to his feet. I look up at him, his eyes bloodshot and raw. Has he slept at all? He opens his mouth as if about to say something, then thinks better of it and turns away, walking with purpose back towards the house. Classic Remy… fight or flight, there’s no in between with him. I catch up to him just before the tree line thins out near the cabin. He slows when he hears