Wolves of the new dawn

Not from here

*Raylee*

Torren leads me down a narrow corridor, the wooden floors creaking softly beneath our feet. The atmosphere is warm and inviting, but a part of me is still tangled in the remnants of my past… my old life, the one that felt like a cage.

I glance at the walls adorned with colorful tapestries and childish paintings of smiling faces, a stark contrast to the cold, sterile environment I once knew. I can’t help but wonder if I ever really belonged there… I like this place.

“This is your room… out room,” Torren says, stopping in front of a door at the end of the hall. He pushes it open gently, revealing a cozy space adorned with soft linens and a large window that lets in the golden afternoon light. I step inside, my heart racing with a rush of excitement. It feels like a sanctuary, a place where I could finally breathe, and the thought of sharing with him doesn’t scare me the least.

“Take your time,” he says, his voice low and soothing. “I’ll be back shortly with some food.” He offers me a reassuring smile before stepping away, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I close the door behind him and lean against it, letting out a shaky breath. The weight of my past presses down on me… being the mistress of the leader, the role I played to survive. I hated it. I hated being a pawn in a game I didn’t choose, but I learned to navigate the treacherous waters of power, using my position to carve out small moments of freedom. Yet, I never imagined men could be like Torren… strong, kind, and fiercely protective. That men could see women as more than a possession to own and show off.

I sink onto the edge of the bed, my fingers brushing over the soft quilt. The realization of my pregnancy washes over me in waves. It’s a new life stirring inside, a symbol of hope I never thought I’d carry. I close my eyes, picturing what it might be like to have a family… a real family, not one built on manipulation and fear. Would I be able to raise a child in a world filled with uncertainty?

The door swings open, breaking my reverie, and Torren steps back inside, a tray in hand. The tantalizing aroma of roasted vegetables and warm bread fills the room, and my stomach growls in response. He sets the tray down on the small table and looks at me, his gaze softening as he takes in my expression.

“Here you go,” he says, gesturing toward the food. “I thought you might like something warm. It is a bit different from what you are used to… but it is real food, nothing artificial here.”

“Thank you, it smells wonderful” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper. As I reach for a piece of bread, Torren’s eyes drift to my belly, a gentle smile blooming on his lips. He approaches, kneeling beside me, his large hand hovering over the small curve beneath my shirt.

“I look forward to us having this little one,” he murmurs, his voice filled with warmth. “To being a family.”

A rush of emotions surges through me… joy, fear, and an overwhelming sense of connection. I place my hand over his, feeling the warmth radiating from his palm, and for the first time, I allow myself to envision a future filled with love instead of obligation.

But then, a question bubbles to the surface, something that kinda just hit me and I can’t hold it back. “Why do you have a different accent?” I ask, my curiosity piqued. “You don’t sound like the others here.”

I had thought his different Way of speaking was a werewolf thing, but already now, with having heard mostly short sentences, I have realised he doesn’t sound like the others.

Torren looks up at me, his expression shifting slightly, as if he’s weighing his words carefully. “I’m new to this pack,” he admits, his voice steady. “I come from another land, far from here. The way I speak reflects my origins, where I grew up surrounded by a different culture and language.”

“Another land?” I echo, my mind racing with revelation. “I thought all the other lands where barren.”

He chuckles softly, his eyes sparkling with the memories. “You also thought everything beyond the city was a wasteland, only inhabited by mutants.”

“That is still up for debate,” I mumble, glancing at him.

“Touche,” He laughs warmly, and I can’t help but giggle.

Then I sigh, I can’t believe how much we have been lied to. “So there really are other countries out there?”

He nods, “Many, and they are very different from here… I am from a place called England, across the ocean.”

“Across the ocean? How did you get here?” I ask, bewildered.

He gives me a small smile, “I flew.”