The Rejected Bloodline

Chapter Five:Brother, Unknowning

Rowan woke early the next morning to the sound of movement through the walls of the pack house, feet crossing floors somewhere down the hall, doors opening and closing, low voices drifting past his door before fading again. For a moment he forgot where he was. Then the ache settled back into his shoulders and along his spine, a dull reminder of everything that had happened over the last two days, and the memory of it all came rushing back at once.

He sat on the edge of the bed a long while before finally standing, running a hand through his hair, trying to steady the nervous weight sitting heavy in his chest. He had made it inside Nightfall. He had spoken to his own father without either of them knowing what the moment truly meant. Now came the part he had not fully prepared himself for, the part where he had to exist among strangers who were, in some way he still could not fully explain, connected to him by blood.

He dressed in the same clothes from the day before, the only ones he had brought that were not torn apart in the woods, and stepped out into the hallway. The main room of the pack house looked different in daylight than it had the night before. Sunlight came through tall windows along one wall, catching dust in the air and lighting up the long wooden table where a handful of people sat eating breakfast, talking among themselves in easy, familiar voices.

A young man near the head of the table looked up first as Rowan entered the room. He had the kind of build that came from years of training, broad through the shoulders, standing even while seated with a certain confidence that filled the space around him. His eyes moved over Rowan slowly, sizing him up the way someone does when they are used to being in charge of a room without needing to try very hard at it.

You must be the new one my father mentioned, he said. I am Caspian.

Rowan, he said, keeping his voice even. Thank you for letting me stay here for now.

Caspian gave a short nod, not unfriendly, but not entirely warm either. My father does not bring in strangers often, he said. Whatever you did to earn that chance, I hope you plan on making good use of it while you are here.

I plan to, Rowan said.

Across the table, a second young man sat quietly, a plate in front of him mostly untouched, watching the exchange with a kind of stillness that made Rowan notice him more than he probably should have. He was leaner than Caspian, his shoulders slightly hunched forward like he was used to taking up less space in a room full of louder people. His eyes, though, missed nothing. Rowan could feel that much even without knowing him at all.

That is my brother Kellan, Caspian said, following Rowan gaze. He does not talk much in the mornings. Do not take it personally if he stares. He does that to everyone.

Kellan gave a small, almost invisible nod in Rowan direction, his expression unreadable, before looking back down at his plate without offering a single word. Rowan felt something in that silence anyway, a kind of attention underneath it that did not match the disinterest Kellan seemed to be performing on the surface.

Sit, Caspian said, gesturing to an open seat. You might as well eat something before my father puts you to work. He does not waste time easing new people into things around here.

Rowan sat, grateful for something to do with his hands. He ate slowly, listening more than talking, letting the sounds of the pack house settle around him. There was an easy rhythm to it all, people moving in and out, conversations overlapping, a kind of normal life happening around a family that had no idea he was quietly a part of it.

At one point Caspian leaned back in his chair, studying Rowan again with open curiosity. Where did you come from, exactly, he asked. You have got an accent I cannot quite place, and packs around here tend to know each other, at least by reputation. I have never heard of yours.

Rowan felt his pulse pick up slightly, careful with his next words. Small pack, he said. Far from here. It did not survive, not really. I have been on my own for a while now.

Caspian face shifted slightly, something like sympathy passing behind his eyes. That happens more than people like to admit, he said, his voice softer than before. I am sorry to hear that.

Across the table, Kellan finally looked up again, his eyes settling on Rowan for a beat longer than felt comfortable. Rowan held his gaze without meaning to, and for a second it felt like Kellan was searching for something specific in his face, something he could not quite name yet but was clearly looking for anyway.

You move like you have trained somewhere, Kellan said quietly, the first full sentence he had spoken since Rowan walked in. Small packs do not usually have the resources to train someone the way you carry yourself.

Rowan forced himself to shrug, keeping his expression neutral even as his heart pounded harder beneath his ribs. I picked things up here and there, he said. Had to learn fast, mostly on my own.

Kellan did not respond right away. He only studied Rowan a moment longer before finally looking back down at his plate, the conversation apparently over as far as he was concerned, though Rowan had the distinct feeling the questions were far from finished, simply postponed.

Later that morning Dorian found him near the front of the pack house and set him to work helping repair a section of fence along the training grounds, alongside a few other pack members who barely spoke to him beyond quick instructions. Rowan worked through the tasks without complaint, grateful for the distraction, grateful for anything that kept his hands busy and his mind away from the enormous weight of the secret he was carrying around inside a house full of people who trusted him without knowing they had every reason not to.

By the time the sun started sinking low again, his body ached from the work, but underneath the exhaustion sat something else entirely, a strange and uncomfortable mix of guilt and belonging that he had not expected to feel this fast. He had spent his whole life on the outside of everything. Now, standing on the inside of a family that did not know he belonged to it, he felt more like an outsider than ever before.

He thought about Wren more than once throughout the day, wondering where she was inside Ashwood territory, wondering if she was thinking about him at all the way he kept thinking about her. He told himself it did not matter, that he had bigger things to worry about, but the thought stayed with him anyway, quiet and persistent, all the way through the long walk back inside once the work was finally done for the day.