Chapter 75 – Stirring the Pot

Chapter 75 – Stirring the Pot
The kitchen was chaos. Pots rattled on the stovetop, the oven timer blared insistently, and the small counter space had long since disappeared under heaps of bread, bowls of half-prepped vegetables, and platters waiting for meat that was still sizzling away.

Kori darted from stove to counter and back again, wooden spoon clattering against the edge of a pot as she stirred too fast. The stew nearly sloshed over the rim, but she hardly noticed, muttering under her breath about how none of this was going to be ready at the same time.

Her chest felt tight. No matter how quickly she moved, it wasn’t enough. They were wolves—dozens of them, strong, hungry, and watching over her family at Jared’s command—and here she was, serving scraps piecemeal because her kitchen wasn’t built for an army.

“This is ridiculous,” she hissed, yanking open the oven to check the roast, only to groan when the bread timer went off again.

“You’re going to wear a hole in the floor, sweetheart.”

Kori spun, startled. Frank leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed but his eyes soft, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t start,” she warned, trying to brush past him with another tray of food. “I have thirty mouths to feed and only two hands.”

He didn’t budge. Instead, he reached out and caught her wrist gently, forcing her to slow. “And those thirty mouths are damn grateful for what you’re doing. Don’t cheapen it by running yourself ragged.”

Her frustration bubbled over, sharp and hot. “It’s not enough, Frank. I should have—gods, I don’t know—stocked up better, gotten a bigger oven, something. They’re risking their lives for us and I can’t even put a proper meal on the table!”

Frank stepped closer, his large hands coming to rest on her shoulders. His voice dropped low, grounding. “Kori. Look at me.”

She did, reluctantly.

“You think these wolves care about whether the bread’s a little burnt or the stew’s a little thin? No. What they see is their Luna breaking her back to make sure they have something warm in their bellies. That means more to them than a feast ever could.”

Her throat tightened at his words. “But it feels like I’m failing them.”

He gave a soft chuckle, squeezing her shoulders. “You’ve been failing no one. You’re standing in a kitchen too small for the job, with pots that should’ve retired a decade ago, cooking like a woman possessed. And you’re still managing to feed them. That’s not failure, Kori. That’s heart.”

She huffed, blinking hard as emotion swelled in her chest. “You’re just saying that because you love me.”

“Damn right,” Frank said without hesitation, reaching past her to grab a knife. He nodded toward the pile of carrots still waiting to be chopped. “Now, let me prove it. I’ll dice, you stir. We’ll have this place running like a well-oiled machine.”

Kori finally laughed, the tension cracking just a little. “You know, you’re not supposed to be able to sweet-talk me out of a meltdown every time.”

Frank winked. “I’ve had decades of practice with your father. Besides, this is what family does—we carry the load together.”

Her hands stilled for a moment, warmth pushing through the guilt that had been clawing at her all day. Family. She hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear that until now.

“Alright,” she said softly, nodding at the vegetables. “But if you ruin my carrots, I’m never forgiving you.”

Frank grinned, grabbing the knife with a flourish. “Sweetheart, you’re looking at a master slicer. Just watch.”

Kori rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at her lips as she went back to her stew. For the first time that day, the kitchen didn’t feel so heavy.

—

By the time the food hit the long wooden tables in the dining room, Kori felt wrung out, but not empty. Frank had stayed at her side the whole time, steady and unhurried, cutting vegetables, pulling bread from the oven, taste-testing with exaggerated hums that made her laugh even when her nerves threatened to fray again. Together, they had pulled it off.

Now, the wolves sat shoulder to shoulder, their low voices filling the room in a rumbling current of conversation. Platters passed from hand to hand. Steaming bowls of stew were set down beside hunks of bread and trays of roasted meat. And for once, the tension in the air wasn’t sharp—it was warm, heavy with comfort instead of fear.

Kori stood just inside the doorway, hands twisting in her apron. She wasn’t sure if she should join them or keep busy cleaning up the wreckage of her kitchen.

That decision was made for her when a large warrior at the nearest table looked up, caught her standing there, and inclined his head.

“Luna,” he said simply, voice rough but respectful.

The word landed like a stone in her chest. Not thrown, but placed there—weighty, solid, real.

More voices joined in, some murmuring softly, others speaking louder with a kind of easy pride. “Luna.” “Luna.” One by one, they acknowledged her.

Kori’s breath hitched. Her eyes darted toward Frank, but he only smiled and nodded as if to say, see? I told you so.

And then her gaze found Jared.

He sat at the far end of the table, his chair drawn back slightly so he could see the whole room. His eyes—sharp, commanding, but softened just for her—never left her face. Pride shone in them, fierce and unguarded. He didn’t say a word, didn’t need to. The way his shoulders squared, the way his mouth tilted just so, it told her everything: They see you. They accept you. And I couldn’t be prouder.

Heat prickled her cheeks. For the first time since she’d been thrown into this strange world, she didn’t feel like an intruder or a weak link. She felt… like she belonged.

Frank nudged her gently toward the table. “Go on, sweetheart. They’re waiting on you.”

Her legs felt unsteady as she crossed the room, the scrape of chairs softening into silence as wolves gave her space, but never distance. When she sat beside Jared, his hand slid under the table to find hers, fingers curling firm and reassuring around her own.

The meal resumed, voices rising again, but the undercurrent had shifted. Laughter broke out in bursts, mugs clinked, and the tension that had hovered over the house for days seemed to bleed away, just a little.

Jared leaned close, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “They’re yours now, too,” he murmured. “Our pack. Our family.”

Kori swallowed hard, fighting the sting of tears. For once, she didn’t try to argue or downplay it. She just squeezed his hand back and let the truth of it settle deep in her chest.