Rise of the Underdogs: KADEN

Library Encounters

After Henry called my dad to share the news that I had met my Mate, I walked purposefully into the packhouse. My destination was clear: the main floor library. I was certain that my younger cousin would be there, likely surrounded by the pups. Months had passed since my brother began settling in with his new kids, yet I remained focused, determined—a man on a mission.

My mission was simple: I needed to learn more about my Mate’s history and her people. If I was going to take this step, I wanted to do it properly, armed with knowledge and understanding.

The way Uncle Henry and Dad learned the news was remarkably simple. Neil, who rarely managed to keep a secret, had been chatting away to Dreson, filling his ear with a steady stream of updates and details. It seemed that Neil’s enthusiasm for conversation was matched only by Colt’s inability to keep things to himself when snacks were involved. Colt, faced with a tempting bag of treats, let information slip as naturally as music follows a rhythm. Once the snacks appeared and the questions began, secrets flowed freely.

Knowing this, I didn’t hesitate to take advantage of Colt’s well-known love for food. Despite the closeness of our friendship—he was more like a brother than anything else—I understood exactly how to get him talking. My willingness to use his weakness as leverage was never in doubt; if it meant uncovering the details I needed, I was more than happy to exploit it.

And it worked. I succeeded in uncovering what I wanted, knowing full well he could never resist. However, what I did not anticipate was Colt’s knowledge about the brothers. He seemed to understand my predicament intimately, aware that I would feel lost without some kind of support or leverage. Colt also knew precisely what I would seek out to regain my footing.

After my conversation with Colton, I made my way to Izaria’s favourite spot inside the packhouse. Pausing outside the library doors, I listened to her voice as she read to the younger children. Through gentle rhymes and thoughtful reasoning, she taught them manners. The sounds of clapping, the sing-song giggles, and the overwhelming sense of emotional fullness washed over me from every direction, leaving me feeling complete.

Opening the door with care, I slipped silently into the restricted section of the library. The subdued lighting created an atmosphere of quiet reverence, encouraging hushed movements and thoughtful reflection. As I moved through the room, my fingertips trailed gently across the spines of the books, lingering over the worn leather and embossed titles. It was a ritual, one that grounded me and focused my search.

Eventually, my fingers paused at a particular set of tomes, each one bearing a distinctive crest: a wolf’s head encircled by a sphere of white, its silver fangs gleaming even in the low light. This symbol was unmistakable. It belonged to the Arctic Shield—an emblem that carried weight and significance, marking the volumes as vital pieces of my investigation. With care, I pulled the books from the shelf, their presence a silent promise of the knowledge and history I was determined to uncover.

I settled myself atop one of the stools, perching with the books in hand, when an Omega woman approached. I barely glanced in her direction as I said, “I don’t wish to be bothered.”

She didn’t hesitate. “Your cousin said to offer coffee,” she replied. Only then did I look up and notice her striking appearance. Emerald-green eyes met mine, and her white-blond hair was tied back with a leather strip, the braid falling in a thick rope down her back.

Keeping my tone even and calm, I asked, “And you are?”

She smiled warmly. “Eileen Forrest, my Lord. Luna Izzy was adamant when she saw you slip inside that I be the one to approach you for… I’m not sure why, but she said for cultural reasons.”

I studied her for a moment before responding, “My Mate is one of your people.” My gaze flicked to her face, searching for a reaction. “Your Alpha, apparently.”

There it was. The confirmation I so desperately craved. Revealed not through words but by the subtle tilt of her head. The faintest flicker in her eyes. The brief tightening of a muscle as she struggled to maintain her composure. Though she tried to keep her expression neutral, her body betrayed her, offering silent proof that my suspicions were correct.

When it came to pack politics, Akita held a superior rank compared to mine. Yet, outside the well-defined hierarchy of the pack, we stood as equals. Our dynamic shifted beyond the boundaries of official titles and roles, placing us on the same footing in the wider world.

A hint of amusement coloured my tone as I spoke. “I never said anything about my status.” The fact that she had somehow deduced my royal lineage without my admission entertained me. Clearly, she possessed keen intuition, and perhaps a few secrets of her own.

“There was no need to, Sir. I overheard your father and the Grand Alpha one day, and they mentioned that you were a Druid prince. May I ask how you’re listed as an Omega if you rank so high?” Eileen’s tone was genuinely inquisitive, her curiosity shining through. Curiosity, I could handle.

A grin spread across my face as I nibbled thoughtfully on my thumb. “Yes, you may.” I partially closed the book in my hands and looked her directly in the eyes. “I am both a Druid prince and the pack Interrogator. If, by any chance, someone ever brings up my Omega status, please do not repeat anything I’m about to share with you.”

Eileen’s expression softened with understanding. “Sir, your secret is safe with me,” she promised, her voice dropping to a serious, almost reverent, register.

With her assurance, I decided to trust her—at least enough to share what was necessary. “I chose the Omega position as a means to protect those in the weaker ranks of the pack. I keep my strength hidden, secret from those who would use it to try to destroy me.”

At my admission, Eileen’s face paled noticeably. “Oh my,” she murmured, clearly taken aback. “That’s a lot of pressure. And to top that off, you’re Mated to our dearly departed Alpha Aurilla’s only daughter? You are a good man, Lord Kaden.”

A wide grin broke across my face as I replied, “Preferentially, I’d rather you lose the Lord title.”

Eileen’s eyes sparkled with amusement, clearly enjoying the respectful tone. “Absolutely, Sir. But what should I call you?” she asked, her voice carrying a hint of playful respect.

My grin only grew wider as I clarified my preference. “By name, Missus Forrest,” I responded, emphasizing that I favoured informality over formalities. I made it clear that, unless the situation absolutely required it—such as official or ceremonial functions—I avoided using titles. This wasn’t just my approach. Neil and my brother, Dreson, followed the same practice. Both of them are members of royalty, yet neither stands on ceremony. “Though admittedly, both can be assholes at times. I caught myself as I spoke, quickly correcting my description with a chuckle. “I mean petty! Shoot, I meant to say pretty! Obnoxious, that is!”

Eileen let out a light giggle, her laughter ringing with warmth and sincerity. “In that case, then simply Eileen will do, Kaden. We would not want others to know your secrets.” The genuine nature of her amusement eased the recent tension, casting a comfortable atmosphere between us.

Just as Eileen’s laughter lingered in the air, a small girl appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Her resemblance to Eileen was striking, hinting at a close relationship between them. “Maman! Maman! Up?”

I grinned, setting the book aside to look at the child in front of me. Her face wasn’t round, but not oval, either. It was more of a heart-shape, with a cute little nose, eyes the colour of emeralds, and a bright, happy smile on her face. “Yours?”

“My pup, yes,” she answered, her hand resting gently on her daughters head. “Jasper, River, and Levi saved us nearly three years ago. My Mate was murdered by Rogues. They almost killed me and my daughter as well, but the Stone brothers are powerful allies.”

Something in her voice made me look up. I regarded her with a quizzical look. “They saved you? Yet another reason for me to understand their culture more. Your! Your culture. I’m sorry. That… that w-was insensitive.”

“You stammer?” She asked her eyes taking on a small, inquisitive light. “Breathe before speaking when it happens. It stops the stammer from happening and will save much face for someone in your position.”

No one, not even my brother, had ever given me such sound advice. The words lingered with me, their wisdom settling in deep. I felt a quiet gratitude welling up inside, and I looked at Eileen, my tone soft. “Thank you,” I said, genuinely appreciative of her kindness.

Turning my attention to her daughter, I knelt to her level and opened my arms in invitation. Children—pups—always seemed to have an instinct for safety, an uncanny ability to sense who they could trust. I hoped she could see that trustworthiness in me, and that she would feel safe enough to accept my gesture.

The hope was real and tangible. My heart thrummed with anticipation as I waited for her response.

Her small arms wrapped around my neck, hugging me tightly as she pressed her face into my polo shirt. She glanced up at her mother, her green eyes sparkling with curiosity and delight. “Like us, Maman?” she asked, her voice full of innocent wonder.

I answered gently, meeting her gaze. “Non, petite. You’re Indigenous, but I’m black. Well, brown, but who’s really keeping track, right?”

The girl giggled, loud and charming. I glanced up, noting a shock of red in the shadows. Narrowing my gaze playfully, I watched Eileen and her pup leave the area.