Chapter 52 52
Chapter 52 52
Rhea’s POV
Something soft brushed against my cheek, followed by a low whisper.
“Rhea… we’re here.”
My eyes fluttered open, heavy with sleep. Lucien’s face came into view first, close enough that his breath tickled my skin. The hum beneath us shifted, softening as the tires crunched over gravel, signaling we were coming to a stop.
I frowned, disoriented. Here? It felt like I’d only just closed my eyes. I remembered the sky was still morning-bright when we left the house. I must’ve leaned into him at some point, to rest for a minute.
Apparently, that minute had lasted hours.
I rubbed at my eyes, sitting up straighter as I glanced outside. My breath caught.
The building outside was massive; more like a fortress than a house. Stone and wood curved into tall peaks, wide windows gleaming in the grey light. People moved around the compound with purpose… some running, others sparring in what looked like a training ring. A few glanced toward the car as if they already knew who was inside.
“Is this…” I hesitated, still taking it in. “The pack?”
From the front, Damien let out a soft laugh. “That’s the pack house,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “But yeah. We’re in pack grounds now.”
The weight of that settled over me all at once.
My gaze flicked to the window again. People were becoming more aware. They were now standing in quiet clusters. Heads turned and conversations paused. Curious eyes followed the car, and my chest tightened as awareness prickled across my skin. I hadn’t even stepped out yet, and already I felt exposed.
Lucien’s hand found mine, warm and steady. His thumb traced gentle circles on my skin, grounding me. “Feeling nervous?” His voice was low, careful.
I forced a shake of my head, but the tight knot in my chest betrayed me. “No,” I said, voice barely more than a breath.
The door swung open before I could argue, and Damien’s large hand landed softly on my arm. “Don’t be,” he said with quiet confidence. “You’ll love it here.”
Damien held my gaze, steady and unflinching. No hesitation. No second thoughts. The tightness in my chest loosened just enough for a full breath to slip through.
I slid my hand into his.
Cool air brushed my legs as I stepped out, with Lucien, his palm warm at my lower back, a quiet anchor as the world seemed to tilt into focus.
The air changed.
Voices dipped. Movement slowed. I felt it before I saw it. My skin prickled as the people’s gazes moved to me, curious glances displayed on their faces accompanied by ripples of whispers.
My heartbeat kicked harder, loud enough that I was sure it could be heard.
Lucien’s fingers tightened around mine, a silent promise, and together we started forward.
As we walked, people straightened. Heads dipped as their voices carried respectful greetings, “Alpha,” “Alphas,” It was spoken with reverence that it made my steps falter just a fraction.
I had never been in the middle of something like this before, never been seen like this. My nerves buzzed, equal parts awe and unease.
The doors were only a few steps away when they suddenly swung open.
Noah appeared with a wide grin on his face as energy practically bursted off him. He clapped his hands once, sharp and enthusiastic. “Well, about time!” he announced, eyes landing on me with open delight. “Welcome home.”
The word home echoed through me, warmth spreading as fear curled beneath it. I stood between them with their hands in mine, my heart racing on the threshold of something entirely new.
Noah stepped aside, still talking as he ushered us in, his voice rolling on with easy enthusiasm about rooms and schedules and how long I’d be staying. The words washed over me, half-formed, because the moment I crossed the threshold, the house claimed my attention completely.
Warmth wrapped around me, not just from the air but from the space itself. Rich browns and deep golds layered the interior, wood polished to a soft gleam that spoke of age and care rather than excess. The floors were dark and solid beneath my feet, worn smooth in places by years of footsteps. Tall walls rose around us, lined with framed portraits and old artworks.
Everything felt intentional, steeped in history. Old money, I realized distantly. Not loud. Not trying to impress. Just there, confident in its permanence.
My fingers twitched in Lucien’s hand as my gaze drifted higher, taking in the sweeping staircase and the carved banister, the way the light traced the curves of the wood. It felt lived in. Protected. Like the house had been standing guard long before any of us had arrived.
“…and if you need anything at all… Rhea?”
Noah’s voice cut through the haze.
I blinked and dragged my attention back to him, heat creeping up my neck. “I…sorry,” I said, my brows knitting together. “What?”
A low chuckle sounded beside me. Damien slipped an arm around my shoulders, the gesture easy and familiar, his amusement brushing against me. “I’m guessing that means you like the house?” he asked, teasing warmth in his voice.
I glanced around once more before nodding, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Yeah,” I admitted. “I think I do.”
Damien’s grin widened, satisfaction written plainly across his face. “You see?” he said, casting a look toward Noah and Lucien alike. “Told you so.”
Laughter spilled out of me, light and a little breathless, easing some of the tightness I hadn’t realized I was still holding. It settled low in my chest afterward, leaving behind a fragile hope. Maybe, just maybe… I could find a little happiness here. A little peace, at least.
Noah opened his mouth again, clearly winding up for another round of enthusiastic commentary, when Lucien stepped in smoothly.
“We had a long drive,” he said, his tone calm but unmistakably firm. His hand tightened around mine just slightly. “She needs to rest.”
Noah paused, then broke into an understanding grin. “Ah,” he said, holding up his hands in surrender. “Fair enough. I can talk later. Plenty of time for that.”
Lucien’s thumb brushed over my knuckles, reassuring, as Damian guided us further inside, the warmth of the house closing in around us once more.