⋆ Chapter 187

⋆ Chapter 187
The car door opened, and the first thing that hit me was the chill in the air. Not just the cold of the mountain wind, but something heavier, a weight that settled on my shoulders the moment my feet hit the ground.
Wanda was already at my side, matching my step without saying anything.
Ahead of us, Rafael stood tall in front of a house so big it looked like it could swallow three ordinary homes whole. Its stone façade stretched wide, windows glowing warm in the early morning light. The kind of place that could’ve been beautiful under other circumstances.
Rafael looked… whole again. It startled me, if I was being honest. Days ago, he’d been bloodied and battered, barely upright. Now he stood straight, his skin unmarked, his expression calm. Lycans always healed fast, but the sight of him almost fully himself again only reminded me how different I still was.
But it wasn’t the house or Rafael that took my breath away. It was the line.A long, long line of people, stretching down the path on either side. Waiting. Watching.
For me.
My stomach turned.
I froze halfway up the path, suddenly aware of every scab, every cut on my face. My fingers twitched at the bandage on my arm. They were all staring—some smiling faintly, a few even nodding with what almost looked like respect—but others… others scowled outright. Some narrowed their eyes, silent judgment in every look. And plenty more just watched with thin, curious detachment, as though waiting to see whether I would fall flat on my face.
I hated every second of it.
I swallowed hard and tried to keep walking, but my feet faltered. My pulse pounded loudly in my ears.
That’s when Rafael stepped closer. I felt his hand slip into mine. I stiffened and instinctively tried to pull away, but his voice was low and close to my ear before I could.
“Don’t mind them,” he whispered. “You’ll address the pack soon enough. But not now. Right now, all you need to do is walk. Most of them just wanted to see you with their own eyes. The first human to turn.”
There was no malice in his tone. If anything, it was almost reassuring, though his hand stayed where it was, grounding me even as every instinct told me to shake it off.
So I let him lead me forward, step by step, through the gauntlet of stares.
The house was warmer inside. The scent of wood and something faintly sweet filled the air, and for a fleeting moment, it almost felt like walking into some grand lodge in the Alps—high vaulted ceilings, wide windows framing the mountains beyond.
There were more people inside, too. And every single one of them turned to look the second the door opened.
My breath hitched again, but Rafael’s hand stayed firm until we reached the main hall.
He glanced down at me, then toward a hallway. “They’re waiting for you in the meeting room,” he said. “Come with me.”
Wanda paused at the base of the stairs, giving me a faint, tired smile.
“See you around, Luna,” she said quietly. “I’ll be here if you need me.”
“Thank you,” I managed to whisper back.
I watched her go before letting Rafael lead me down a long, quiet corridor.
It wasn’t until we reached a heavy double door that I realized he was still holding my hand. I pulled it free, and though he let go immediately, he didn’t even glance at me when he did.
He pushed the door open and gestured for me to go inside.
“They’re waiting,” was all he said, before letting the door close behind me.
At first, the room seemed empty—just the hush of thick carpet beneath my boots, the faint creak of wood somewhere behind me.
And then I saw them. Trisha. Georgia. Ralph, and even my parents.
I stopped dead, my breath catching hard in my chest. It felt like years since I’d last seen them. Years since their familiar faces had been more than memories.
Before I could say anything, they moved—rushing forward, arms outstretched, tears already in their eyes. And then they were there, surrounding me, holding me, everyone talking at once.
My knees gave out. I sank to the floor, my hands clutching at them, my sobs breaking free so hard I thought they might rip me open.
“I was so scared,” I kept saying, my words barely intelligible through the tears. “I thought I’d never see you again. I thought I’d never—”
And then I couldn’t say anything else. Because all I could do was cry into their arms, feeling the last fragile thread that had been holding me together finally snap under the weight of everything I’d been carrying.
We stayed there on the carpet for what felt like forever—just holding each other, crying, no one caring who saw. Every time I thought I’d stopped, another wave of grief would tear through me, and Trisha or my mother would just pull me closer and tell me to let it out.
It was Trisha, ever the strongest of all of us, who finally broke the silence.
“Alright,” she said firmly, though her voice was still thick with tears, “we can’t all sit on the floor and bawl like this. Come on now.”
She gently pried my hands from her shoulders, giving me a small, encouraging smile through her own puffy eyes.
Georgia nodded in agreement, her cheeks streaked wet but already smoothing her hair back into place.
“She’s right. Up. You’re not staying down there, Tilly. Sit over here. The couch at least has cushions.”
I let them guide me, still sniffling, my legs weak as they steered me toward the big leather sofa by the window. My mother stayed close, pressing tissues into my hand, whispering softly as she wiped at my face like I was still a little girl.
“There, darling. That’s it. Just breathe now. You’re here. You’re safe.”