Chapter 21
Elara's POV
I walked down the stairs slowly, my hand gripping the railing. My legs were still shaking—from the fight, from reading that diary, from everything. The smell of roasted chicken hit me halfway down and my stomach twisted hard.
The kitchen table was already set. Emily had laid out mismatched plates and the silverware that didn't quite match but somehow fit together anyway. Marcus sat at the head in his work clothes, grease stains on the sleeves, dirt under his fingernails. He looked exhausted. The kind of exhausted that sleep doesn't fix.
"There she is," Ethan said from his spot by the counter. "Thought you passed out up there."
"I'm fine." I slid into the chair across from Marcus. My hands felt too visible on the table so I dropped them into my lap. "Just needed to shower."
Emily appeared with a serving dish piled with roasted chicken, the skin golden and glistening. She set it down along with bowls of mashed potatoes and vegetable salad. Way too much food for four people. She started loading my plate before I could say anything.
"Eat," she said. "You skipped lunch completely."
I picked up my fork because arguing would draw more attention. The chicken was good. Really good. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until I started eating.
Nobody said anything for a few minutes. Just silverware on plates and Ethan making happy noises every time he took a bite. Marcus ate slowly, like his mind was somewhere else entirely.
Then he set down his fork.
"So," he said, and something in his tone made me look up. "Your uncle Derrick called today."
I froze with a piece of chicken halfway to my mouth.
Uncle Derrick. The name pulled up fragments from Elara's memories—tall man, expensive suits, condescending smile. Marcus's older brother who'd stayed in the pack when Marcus got exiled. Who'd cut off all contact the second the family lost status.
"He wants us to come to lunch tomorrow," Marcus continued. His voice was carefully neutral. "At that restaurant downtown. Said he has something he wants to discuss."
My brain immediately started running calculations. Derrick Goldman. Still connected to the pack. Still had access to information networks the Grey family had lost. If I could get him talking, maybe I could learn something useful. About the Wild Hunt. About whether they'd tracked me here yet.
But there was no way this invitation was innocent.
"Why?" I asked quietly.
Marcus shook his head. "He didn't say. Just that it was important."
Ethan's fork hit his plate with a sharp sound. "That's bullshit." His voice was flat, angry. "Goldman didn't give a damn when Dad got exiled. Didn't call, didn't visit, didn't do anything. Now suddenly he wants to have lunch? No way he's not up to something."
I watched Ethan's face, saw the distrust there. He was right to be suspicious. In the Northern Territories, this would be an obvious trap. But it was also an opportunity. If Derrick still had connections to the pack, he might know things. Things I needed to know.
"Maybe we should go anyway," I said carefully.
Everyone looked at me.
"I mean..." I kept my voice soft, uncertain. "If we don't go, we'll never know what he wanted. And maybe... maybe he wants to help?"
Ethan stared at me like I'd lost my mind. "Help? Elara, these people acted like we didn't exist for years. Why would they suddenly want to help now?"
"I don't know." I looked down at my plate. "But he's still family, right?"
The silence that followed felt heavy. I could feel Marcus watching me, could see Emily's hand reach over to squeeze his.
This was strategic. I needed information. Needed to know if Derrick could be useful or if he was going to be a problem. And I definitely needed to figure out what he wanted badly enough to break years of silence.
But I couldn't say any of that. So I just sat there looking hopeful and naive.
"Alright," Marcus said finally. "We'll go."
Ethan made a disgusted noise but didn't argue further.
The conversation shifted after that. Emily talked about work. Ethan complained about a professor. Normal dinner talk. I ate and listened and tried to ignore the tightness in my chest.
Then Ethan leaned back with a grin that meant trouble. "Oh, by the way, Elara. Heard you had an interesting day at school."
I looked up sharply. "What?"
"Come on." His grin widened. "You think word doesn't travel? You knocked Sophia Reign on her ass in combat training."
Emily's fork clattered against her plate. "You what?"
Shit.
"It wasn't—" I started.
"You fought Sophia?" Marcus was leaning forward now, and there was something desperate in his voice. "Did your wolf...? Did you shift?"
He couldn't even finish the question. Just stared at me with this fragile hope in his eyes that made my stomach hurt.
"No," I said quickly. "No, I didn't shift. I just got lucky. Sophia was off her game and I—"
The hope died. I watched it drain out of his face. Emily's hand went to her mouth and her eyes were suddenly wet.
"I'm fine," I said, even though that wasn't what she was upset about. "Really. And someone stopped it before anything serious happened. Some guy in the school. Said his name was Kael something."
The temperature in the room dropped.
Ethan went completely still. "Kael Harrington?"
I blinked. "Yeah, I think so. Why? Is that a big deal?"
"Is that—" Ethan's voice came out strangled. "Elara, Kael Harrington is the heir to Pinehollow Pack. One of the three most powerful packs in North America. And nobody knows why the hell he's even at St. George."
My stomach dropped. Pinehollow Pack. I'd heard that name in the Territories. Old money. Old power. The kind of pack that had connections everywhere and enemies nowhere because nobody was stupid enough to cross them.
"And he helped you." Ethan was staring at me. "Kael Harrington helped you."
"Maybe he just doesn't like bullies," I said weakly.
Ethan didn't look convinced. Neither did Marcus, who was frowning at his plate like it contained answers.
Emily cleared her throat. "Well. I'm just glad someone was there." She reached over and touched my hair. "You could have been hurt, baby."
"But I wasn't." I tried to smile. "Everything worked out."
“Yeah.” Marcus picked up his fork again. "But now let's finish eating before it gets cold."
The conversation died after that. We ate in silence, just the sound of silverware scraping plates. I could feel them stealing glances at me when they thought I wasn't looking. Worrying. Wondering.
The rest of dinner passed in uncomfortable silence. I helped clear the table even though Emily tried to stop me. When the dishes were done, I escaped upstairs.
My room felt smaller than before. I closed the door and leaned against it, trying to breathe.
Tomorrow. Lunch with the Goldmans. I needed to figure out what Derrick wanted. Needed to assess if he was useful or dangerous.
I lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Thought about Marcus's tired face. Emily's worried eyes. Ethan's protective anger.
Thought about Kael Harrington stepping in to stop Sophia. Those amber eyes watching me. The way he'd looked at me like I was something he couldn't figure out.
Why had he helped me? What did he want?
In the Northern Territories, nobody did anything without a reason. Every action had a purpose. Every alliance had a price.
But this wasn't the Territories. This was a small town in Oregon where people had family dinners and worried about their kids and invited estranged relatives to lunch.
I didn't know how to navigate this. Didn't know how to be part of a family. Didn't know how to accept care without suspecting ulterior motives.
My thoughts kept circling back to Kael. To the forest. To today in the gym. To the way my body had reacted when he got close—heart racing, skin heating, every instinct screaming danger and something else I didn't want to name.
I forced myself to focus on tomorrow instead. On the Goldman lunch. On strategy and information gathering and survival.
But exhaustion was pulling at me, dragging me down.
My eyes kept trying to close. My thoughts were getting fuzzy around the edges and I fell asleep.