The Pack (Completed Series)

Chapter 11 - Aria

Something was wrong.

I sat up in bed, chest tight, skin burning from the inside out.

It wasn't fear. Not exactly. It was worse than that—expectation. Like something just behind my ribcage was pacing, pushing, waiting to be let out.

I pressed my palms against my sternum, willing the feeling away, but it only grew stronger. My fingertips tingled. My senses were too much. The creak of the wood outside my door felt like thunder. The scent of pine leaking in from the window was overwhelming.

It was like my skin didn't fit anymore.

I stood quickly, too quickly. The room tilted. I braced myself against the wall, breathing hard.

Nope. I wasn't doing this.

I couldn't.

My body was changing. Something inside me was waking up, something with teeth and instincts I didn't understand. The others acted like it was natural. Like I'd just... shift one day and be fine. But they didn't get it.

They'd grown up with this.

They knew who they were.

I didn't even know what I was.

I crept to the door, eased it open with the quietest push I could manage. No light in the hallway, just moon-soaked shadows. I padded silently toward the front of the house, heart pounding with every step.

I didn't have a plan.

Just distance.

Just air.

Just away.

I was reaching for the front door handle when a voice stopped me cold.

"Going somewhere?"

My whole body flinched.

Ryker stepped out of the dark, arms folded, leaning against the wall like he'd been there for hours. Moonlight caught the scar across his cheek and the edge of his eyes, which weren't angry.

They were... searching.

"I needed air," I said stiffly.

He didn't move. "So you figured you'd vanish into the woods at four a.m. alone?"

"Would you rather I waited until daylight?" I snapped, instantly regretting how fragile my voice sounded.

He stepped forward, slowly, until we were only a few feet apart. I braced for him to snap, to challenge me again, but instead—

He softened.

"Is it your wolf?" he asked quietly.

The question shattered me.

I sank down onto the bench by the door, hands shaking.

"I can feel her," I whispered. "Like she's clawing to get out. But I don't know her. I don't even know me. It's like I'm being pushed into something I can't stop, and I'm supposed to just accept it."

He sat down across from me, resting his elbows on his knees.

"It's not just your wolf that's waking up," he said, voice low. "It's you. The real you. The one your human self never had space for."

I looked at him. "What if I don't want her?"

He held my gaze. "Then fight it. But she's still part of you. That doesn't go away."

The air between us changed. Slowed.

For a moment, I wasn't afraid.

He didn't touch me. Didn't try to soothe me with hollow words.

He just sat with me, grounded and still.

"I can't sleep," I admitted, voice small.

"I don't sleep much either," he replied. "Too many ghosts."

I blinked. "You have ghosts?"

He gave the barest smile. "Don't we all?"

The fire in my chest dimmed just slightly. Not gone, but quieter.

He stood and offered a hand. "Come on. I'll make tea."

I stared at his hand like it might bite me. But I took it.

His palm was rough, warm. Steady.

Not tender. But close.

And in the quiet space between night and morning, it was enough.