The Pack (Completed Series)

Chapter 8 - Aria

I stood in the center of the cabin long after Ryker left the room.

I didn't breathe until I heard the faint click of a door down the hall—his, I guessed. As soon as he was gone, the room felt bigger. Calmer. The air wasn't so tight in my chest.

But my skin still buzzed with the heat he left behind.

God, what was that? We'd barely exchanged five words before we were bristling like two wolves squaring off over territory neither of us wanted to admit was shared. I hated the way he looked at me—like I was a puzzle with too many sharp pieces. I hated even more that part of me wanted to be seen by him anyway.

I didn't need that. Didn't want it.

I ran a hand through my damp hair and turned to find somewhere to sit—only to see Elias already there, watching me quietly from a chair near the fire.

He hadn't said a word through the whole interaction.

Now, he offered a small, cautious smile. "He's a little much."

I let out a breath that might have been a laugh. "You think?"

"Ryker's bark is worse than his bite," Elias added gently. "Most of the time."

I eyed him as I slowly crossed the room. "And you? What's your damage?"

He didn't flinch. "Plenty. But I've made peace with most of it."

That answer caught me off guard. Honest. Calm. No defensive edge. No cocky bravado. He just was.

I sank onto the floor in front of the hearth, close enough to feel the fire's heat start to dry my soaked clothes. Silence settled between us, but it wasn't uncomfortable.

For once, it didn't feel like someone was trying to get something from me.

Elias spoke again after a while. "You did good back there. Holding your ground."

"I wasn't trying to impress anyone."

"I didn't say you were."

I glanced up at him. He looked... safe. Soft brown eyes. Calloused hands resting easily on his knees. The kind of person who could be quiet with someone and mean it.

"So what's your role in this little pack?" I asked. "The peacekeeper?"

"The healer," he said with a small nod. "Though those aren't always different."

That made me pause.

I looked down at my hands, then back at the fire. The crackling wood, the low hum of warmth—it did something to me. Loosened something in my chest I'd kept wound tight for too long.

"I don't know how to be around people," I admitted suddenly, the words escaping before I could stop them. "I mean, I know how to fake it. But I don't... I don't really do connection. I don't trust it."

Elias didn't rush in with platitudes. He let the silence hold space for the truth.

"I've been on my own my whole life," I said, swallowing hard. "Everyone who got close either left or tried to use me. So yeah, I've got walls. Not proud of it. Just... real."

"I don't think it makes you weak," Elias said quietly. "I think it makes you wounded. And wounds heal. With time. And the right hands."

I blinked hard.

My throat felt tight again, but not from fear this time.

"I don't want to be your responsibility," I said.

"You're not," Elias replied. "But you're something. We all feel it. I think even you feel it. That doesn't have to mean anything right now. But it can mean safety, at least for tonight."

I looked over at him again.

He wasn't watching me like Ryker had—full of challenge and heat.

Elias watched me like someone who saw the weight I carried... and had no interest in adding to it.

Just sharing it.

I exhaled slowly and let myself lean back, just slightly, against the edge of the hearth.

Not a surrender.

Just... a moment to breathe.

And for the first time since the night began, I wasn't thinking about escape.

I was thinking about staying.

Just a little longer.