Chapter 89

Chapter 89
Olivia's Point of View

It has been a week since the last attack.

On the surface, everything looks normal again.

Classes are full. Laughter drifts through the halls. The dining hall buzzes the way it always does at lunch, trays clattering, voices overlapping, the smell of warm bread and something fried hanging in the air. If I let myself, I could almost believe the danger has passed.

Almost.

But I know better than to get comfortable.

Liana and I sit at one of the long tables near the windows, sunlight spilling across our trays. I push my food around more than I eat, listening to her talk about an upcoming assessment while my eyes keep drifting towards the doors. Old habits. Hyper-awareness. The kind that does not turn off once you have seen how fast peace can shatter.

“They have doubled patrols again,” Liana says quietly, lowering her voice. “Did you notice?”

I nod my head. “Yeah. And the instructors are pretending it is nothing.”

She snorts softly. “Of course they are.”

Before I can reply, a familiar presence settles beside us. Pacey drops his tray down across from us with a grin that is a little too bright, followed closely by Ian, who gives us a tired nod of his head before sitting. The table starts to feel full in the best way, grounded, and steady.

Then Kael joins us.

I look up as he sets his tray down, and for the first time in days, I do not see the hollowed out version of him. There are shadows under his eyes, sure, and something older in his expression, but his shoulders are not drawn tight anymore. His movements are smoother. More like himself.

“Hey,” I say softly.

“Hey,” he replies, and this time there is warmth in it.

Liana nudges his drink towards him without comment, like she has been doing all week. He takes it with a grateful glance, and something in my chest loosens. Healing is not loud. Sometimes it looks like this, showing up, sitting down, and breathing a little easier.

Pacey launches into a story about nearly getting taken out during sparring this morning, waving his fork for emphasis, and Ian mutters corrections under his breath. Kael even laughs, really laughs, and the sound feels like a small victory.

Then Ripley appears.

I feel him before I see him, that familiar pull drawing my attention to the end of the table. He steps up with his tray, scanning the group, his gaze flicking to me just long enough to check in. When our eyes meet, something quiet and reassuring passes between us.

He takes the seat beside me, close but not crowded.

“Sorry I am late,” he says. “I got held up.”

“No trouble,” Kael says easily. “We were just listening to Pacey exaggerate.”

“Lies,” Pacey protests. “All facts.”

Ripley smirks, but his eyes stay alert, taking everyone in the way they always do now, counting, assessing, and protecting without making it obvious.

As conversation flows around us, I let myself relax a fraction. I eat. I laugh. I lean into the normalcy without fully trusting it.

Because a week of quiet does not erase what happened.

And as I sit here surrounded by my friends, by future alphas, leaders, people Nightvein has already tested more than once, I cannot shake the feeling that this calm is not an ending.

It is a pause.

And whatever comes next will be watching to see if we let our guard down.

The noise of the dining hall fades into something softer as I finally start eating in earnest, the steady rhythm of forks and conversation grounding me. For a few minutes, it almost feels easy, like we are just students again, not heirs and future leaders carrying too much weight for our age.

Ripley clears his throat beside me.

“There is something I wanted to run by you all,” he says, casual but deliberate in that way of his that always means he has thought this through.

The table quiets just enough for everyone to listen.

“Stormfang is having its annual pack party this weekend,” he continues. “It is… kind of a big thing. Music, food, games, the whole deal.” He glances around at us, then adds, “I was thinking it might be a good idea if all of you came.”

I blink, a little surprised, and then, before I can stop myself, a small smile curves onto my face.

“A party?” Pacey repeats, like he is making sure he heard correctly.

“Yes,” Ripley says dryly. “An actual one. Not a trap. Probably.”

Ian snorts. “You really know how to sell it.”

Kael leans back in his chair, considering, his fingers tapping lightly against his cup. For a moment, I worry that he will decline, maybe say it is too soon, or that he should stay close to Stonehowl. But then he exhales slowly.

“Honestly?” he says. “A distraction sounds… good. Really good.”

Liana nods her head immediately. “I could use something that does not involve training, alarms, or emergency meetings.”

“Same,” I say softly, surprising myself with how quickly the word comes out. The tension I have been carrying all week shifts, just a little. “I think we all could.”

Pacey grins, already halfway convinced. “Food and music at Stormfang? I am in.”

Ian shrugs. “If it keeps us from spiraling for a night, I vote yes.”

All eyes drift back to Ripley.

He looks relieved, not dramatically, just a subtle easing around his shoulders. His gaze flicks to me again, and there is something hopeful there, and something warm.

“Good,” he says. “I will talk to my father and make sure everything is set.”

As conversation picks back up, lighter now, I let myself imagine it, music echoing through Stormfang, laughter instead of sirens, a night where we are not waiting for the next attack.

I know better than to believe it will fix anything.

But maybe, just maybe, a little joy is exactly what we need to remind ourselves what we are fighting for.