Rise of the Underdogs: KADEN

When Hearts Align

“Kaden, this place is so beautiful.” Her voice was soft, carrying a sense of awe as she gazed around. The atmosphere felt peaceful, and I could see the wonder in her eyes as she took in our surroundings.

I smiled at her, feeling my heart thump steadily. At that moment, Malachite finally allowed himself to rest, curling up for the first time in days. Inside my mind, his presence faded into a quiet darkness as he drifted off, and I sighed, mentally tucking him in for a much-needed sleep.

Reflecting on the space around us, I shared its history: “It’s been the family home for over seven generations. Each new generation adds to the lived-in quality while continuously modernizing it.” The house carried memories and the touch of many lives, evolving with each era while remaining a constant sanctuary for our family.

Akita’s voice broke the quiet as she focused on her math work. “Sivu is upset that she can’t feel Malachite anymore,” she said, her brow furrowed in concern. The worry in her tone was evident, even as her pencil moved steadily over the page.

I glanced over, understanding her unease. “He’s sleeping,” I reassured Akita gently. “Poor wolf’s been helping me take down the worst kind of evil, and he’s been on constant guard since it all started. Now that the pups are safe, he’s taking a much-deserved break.”

As I spoke, I returned my attention to the exercise in front of me, methodically scanning through my terms and their meanings before copying them into my notebook. The peaceful silence of the room was a welcome change.

This place offered us a privileged escape, a welcome reprieve from the constant chaos that surrounded the court and the intricate politics of the pack. Here, away from the tension and relentless demands, we could finally breathe and allow ourselves a moment of genuine peace. The serenity of our surroundings stood in sharp contrast to the turmoil we so often faced, making the tranquillity all the more meaningful.

I turned to her and asked, “So, how’s school?”

She replied thoughtfully, “I opted for basic courses just to be able to get through the work without always asking for help. I do have a plan for college, though.” Her eagerness was clear as she continued, “I want to be a cultural interpreter. And your college?”

I let out a quiet chuckle before answering, “It’s going,” I admitted honestly. “Sure, I could always just fall back on my powers if I wanted to, but that’s not really the point. I chose to study psychology because I genuinely want to understand what motivates people—the reasons behind their choices and behaviours. I’m curious about what drives them, what causes them to falter, and, above all, what allows some to endure hardships that would easily destroy others.” I paused, thinking about the resilience I’d witnessed in people. “There’s something fascinating about what makes someone survive things that, for many, would be impossible to get through. That’s what I want to understand.”

Akita scowled at her work, her frustration evident in the way she flipped back and forth through the pages of her notebook. She paused, clicking her tongue against her teeth. A small sign of her exasperation. With a determined look, she nibbled on her lower lip, eyes fixed on the challenging equation before her. The formula was no less daunting, but she studied it intently, displaying equal parts grit and resolve.

I knew she was committed to solving the problem on her own, determined to figure it out, or at least make every effort to do so.

Without glancing up from her notebook, she asked, “So, do you get your looks from your mother and your personality from your dad?” Her pencil moved swiftly as she completed three more equations, barely pausing between each one. Once finished, she closed the math book with a sense of accomplishment, slid it into her bag, and then reached for her Language Arts 3201 textbook, preparing to tackle the next subject.

“That was out of left field.”

She looked up, “What was?”

“The comment about my ‘rents.”

Akita’s cheeks flushed with a soft, adorable pink, her obvious fluster making her let out a slight, squeaky sound. Lowering her head for a moment, she seemed to remember something I had insisted on before. Then, with renewed determination, she raised her gaze and fixed me with a steady look. “You can’t deny it,” she declared, her tone resolute despite her embarrassment.

“Um, yeah. No, I can’t,” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. After a brief pause, I confessed, “Did you know that Dre and I don’t share the same mother?” The admission hung between us, gentle but weighted with significance.

The pencil in Akita’s hand halted mid-word, its journey across the page suddenly interrupted. She looked up with genuine surprise, the tail of the word she’d been writing left unfinished. “I didn’t know that,” she replied softly, her tone both curious and considerate. “Would you like to discuss it?” she offered, her willingness to listen evident.

I held up a hand, silently requesting a pause in our conversation. At that moment, Ann—one of the maids who worked for our family—entered the room.

Ann skillfully uncovered the tray, revealing two generous slices of Tres Leche cake. She then turned her attention to the stand, where she began pouring cups of the imported Turkish coffee that Dad always enjoyed. Carefully placing the cups on the table, she set the sugar and cream within easy reach. Stepping back with respectful composure, her hands clasped neatly at her waist, Ann asked, “Anything else, Prince Kaden?”

I glanced toward my girl, prompting her with a gentle, “Akita?” to see if she wanted anything else.

She shook her head politely and replied, “Oh, no thank you.”

Ann offered a warm, approving smile. “Such a gracious girl. You’ve done well for yourself, my Lord.” Her words carried both affection and respect, filling the room with a sense of gentle camaraderie.

Feeling a sense of pride, I couldn’t help but agree. “I certainly did, didn’t I?” I mused, watching as Akita took her first careful sip of the creamy, rich Turkish coffee.

My thoughts wandered for a moment. How much longer before I was that coffee, savoured and cherished in the same way? Hopefully soon, I told myself.

I found myself teetering on the edge between boyhood and manhood. A precarious borderland where I was just old enough to realise that certain things were no longer meant for me, yet still too young to truly care about those boundaries. It was a strange, in-between place: the moment when the world expected maturity, but my heart hadn’t quite caught up.

Some days, I felt the weight of responsibility pressing in, reminding me of all the things I ought to leave behind. Other days, that pressure barely registered, and I let myself linger in the freedoms of youth, unconcerned with what I was supposed to be outgrowing. The cusp between two worlds, neither fully belonging to one nor the other. But this was where I stood, uncertain, unhurried, and quietly defiant.

As the maid quietly exited, I shifted my attention back to Akita. I began to share a part of my family’s history, speaking softly. “Tina, my dad’s first wife and the Mate chosen for him against his will, died due to complications on the day Dreson was born. Three years later, my father met his true Mate—my mother—and she welcomed Dreson as her own son.”

Akita’s reaction was immediate, her voice tinged with shock and disbelief. “Um, I’m sorry? Forcibly chosen? Who does that?” The disgust in her tone made it clear just how unsettling she found the revelation.

“Thank you! Finally, someone sees it the way I do!” I exclaimed, exasperated by the archaic consideration. “My i***t grandfather bullied poor Tina into rejecting her Mate and marrying Dad. He enjoyed her company, but the love that creates the Mate bond just wasn’t there because they were forced into the union.”

I paused, sipping the coffee to wash down the bite of cake. “Sorry for the info dump.”

“I hate him already,” she muttered. “Your grandfather, I mean. He reminds me of the old guard. The Lunars of my pack’s history. They wanted power. Craved it. Would kill for it. But it was my father who brought our proud people to their knees in the span of a single day. His inability to keep peaceful relations led to the m******e my brothers and I ran from when I was twelve. My seventeenth birthday is soon.”

“I know,” I replied, my tone calm and reassuring. “I’m not the type to make assumptions. So, if there’s anything special you’d like to do, just let me know. I’ll do my best to make it happen for you.”

Akita didn’t hesitate with her answer. “A run while in wolf form, dinner—just the two of us—and maybe a walk or something. I don’t need anything flashy. I need something real. I want to feel a genuine connection.” Her words were honest, stripped of pretense, and her gaze held mine with sincerity.

She was unaware that she had just spoken my own desires aloud. The simplicity of her wishes mirrored everything I wanted for myself. Without realizing it, Akita had described my perfect date night. Her yearning for authenticity, for real moments rather than grand gestures, resonated deeply within me. I found comfort in knowing that, like her, I valued genuine connection over extravagance. In that moment, it became clear that our hopes were aligned, each of us quietly craving the same kind of sincere experience.

I put my books away as I finished my terms. “Wanna help me stir the idea pot? I was asked to help figure out my brother’s wedding.”

“Sure,” she beamed.