Chapter two

Chapter two
The rain was relentless, a merciless force that battered against my skin as I moved toward the Pack Hall. It wasn’t just falling, it was slamming into me, soaking through every layer of my clothes, chilling me to the bone. My breath came out in short, sharp exhales, the cold making my lungs ache. Each step felt heavier, the weight of reality pressing down on me harder than the downpour above.

I didn’t mean to start running, but my body made the decision before my mind could catch up. A sprint. Sudden and desperate, as if the rain itself was trying to push me back, trying to keep me from stepping into whatever was waiting beyond those heavy doors. I could feel Jace watching me, even as I pulled away from him, his eyes tracking my every movement. But I didn’t look back. I just ran.

The steps to the Pack Hall came faster than I expected. I reached for the door but hesitated, my fingers trembling just above the handle. The world behind me was still moving, Jace’s car idling, the sound of rain drumming against the pavement, but inside? Inside, everything was about to change.

I swallowed hard, then forced myself to push the door open.

The moment I stepped in, the warmth of the room clashed against the ice of my skin, making me shudder. Water dripped from me in steady, rhythmic drops, pooling beneath my feet. My breath was uneven, my chest rising and falling in rapid succession. And then—

My eyes locked onto him.

Kieran.

The breath I had left my body in one sharp exhale.

Of course, he was here. Of course. Standing among the pack elders as if he belonged there. As if he had been here all along, present, involved, instead of gone for the past two years. Two years without a word. Two years where his father had wasted away, where his pack had changed, where I had—

And now, today of all days, he was standing there, tall and composed amongst the elders, like he belonged there.

I swallowed again, harder this time.

Like he hadn’t abandoned all of this.

The breath in my lungs turned sharp, jagged. He looked different. Broader, lean muscle stretching under the tailored black shirt he wore, sleeves rolled up to his forearms in that effortless way that made my stomach tighten. His jaw was sharper, more defined, the shadow of dark stubble dusting his skin. His cheekbones, once softer, had become something harsher, as if time had carved them into something unyielding. His black hair was shorter now, neatly trimmed, but still long enough that a few damp strands curled near his temples.

And then there were his eyes.

Dark gold, gleaming under the dim light, watching me.

His gaze dragged over me, slow, thorough. A weight. A heat.

I stiffened, my fingers curling into fists.

What the hell was that look?

His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something. But he didn’t. He just stared, his eyes raking over every inch of me—my rain-soaked hair, my drenched clothes clinging to my body, the way my chest rose and fell too fast. The silence in the room stretched thin, so taut I could hear every single drop of water sliding from my hair, could feel the fabric of my shirt sticking to my skin in places it shouldn’t.

And then, finally, I noticed the others.

The six elders stood in a semi-circle, their aged faces cast in shadows from the low, flickering light of the overhead fixtures. They had never liked me, not really. They had tolerated me while my father was alive, had kept their contempt veiled behind forced politeness and empty words. But now? Now, I could see it for what it was.

The first, Elder Rowan, stood tall and wiry, his silver hair cropped short, his sharp blue eyes filled with nothing but disdain. He had always been vocal about my place in the pack—or lack of one. I had overheard him once telling my father that I was a liability. That a wolf without a wolf was nothing.

Next to him, Elder Martha, the only woman among them, had a face as pinched as her personality. Her long, gray-streaked braid was draped over one shoulder, her lips pursed in what looked like disgust as she took in my dripping form. She had always been polite to my father. But when he wasn’t looking? Her eyes had burned with the same resentment they did now.

Beside her, Elder Callum, broad-shouldered and imposing, had his arms crossed. He was younger than the others, late forties, maybe early fifties, but his eyes were sharp with calculation. He was the strategist, the one who had always been angling for more power. He didn’t look at me with disgust. No—his expression was more amused, as if he was already thinking of how he could use this against me.

Elder Tobias stood silent, unreadable as always, his lined face expressionless. He had never spoken much to me, never voiced an opinion one way or another. But that was the thing about Tobias—he didn’t need to. He waited, listened, and struck only when it mattered.

To his right, Elder Hugo, round-faced and heavyset, shifted uncomfortably, his brown eyes darting between me and the others. He had never been cruel to me, but he had never defended me either. A man too afraid of power to challenge it.

And finally, Elder Victor, thin and hunched, his beady black eyes narrowed with outright distaste. He had always hated me the most. I knew that before he even opened his mouth.

“Step forward,” he said.

I didn’t move. For a moment, I couldn’t.

My father’s chair sat empty at the head of the room, a throne-like seat carved from dark wood. The sight of it sent a sharp, unbearable pain through my chest. He should have been there. He should have been sitting there, keeping them in check, keeping me safe.

But he wasn’t.

And I was alone.

The silence in the room was suffocating. I could hear everything—every single drop of water hitting the floor, every shift of fabric, every inhale. Even my own heartbeat sounded too loud, too erratic. My clothes clung to me, soaked through, freezing.

And Kieran was still watching me.

I could feel his eyes on me, the way they dragged over my body, slow, consuming. It made my skin crawl, but not in the way it should have. Not in the way I wanted it to. It felt…wrong. Different. Unfamiliar.

Something in my chest squeezed, hard, sharp. My lungs felt too tight.

I took a breath.

And then I stepped forward.