CHAPTER FIVE
1636 Words
"What did you see?"
Nate's voice was too controlled. Too careful. Like he was trying very hard to sound casual and failing.
Evie's hand trembled against the coffee cup. "A wolf. In the trees. It was huge, and it... it looked right at me." She met his eyes. "Like it knew me."
Something flickered across his face, too fast to read. Then he turned back to the window, his entire body relaxing in a way that felt deliberate. Performed.
"Ah. You probably saw Balto."
"Balto?"
"Estate dog. Irish Wolfhound." He said it so easily, so casually, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Massive thing, bit feral. Prefers the woods to the house. Liam's been trying to train him for months. Completely useless."
Evie moved to stand beside him at the window. The tracks in the snow were already being filled by fresh flakes drifting down. Had they been dog-sized? Wolf-sized? She couldn't tell anymore. The edges were blurred, disappearing even as she watched.
"That was a dog?"
"Big one." Nate glanced at her, and his eyes were normal amber now. Not glowing. Just... amber. Beautiful, but human. "The light plays tricks out here. Snow, shadows, your mind fills in the gaps." His hand landed gently on her shoulder. "You've been through trauma, Evie. You have a concussion. It's completely normal to see things that aren't quite right. Your brain is still healing."
Was it? Had she imagined those eyes? That impossible size?
The concern in his voice sounded genuine. And she did have a concussion. The plaster on her forehead itched as if to remind her.
"You're sure it was just a dog?"
"Positive." He smiled, but something about it didn't reach his eyes. "Come on. You haven't eaten properly since you got here. Sophie's preparing lunch, and if we're late, she'll have both our heads."
He guided her toward the door with a hand at the small of her back. The touch was warm, almost burning through the borrowed jumper.
Evie glanced back at the window one more time.
The trees stood silent and still, giving nothing away.
The dining room was warm and loud with life.
At least fifteen people crowded around a massive oak table that looked like it had been here for centuries. Platters of food covered every available surface, roasted chicken, vegetables, fresh bread, and multiple steaks that looked...
Evie's steps faltered.
The steaks were barely cooked. Blood pooled on the serving platter, so rare the centers were practically raw.
"Evie!" Sophie waved from halfway down the table. "Come sit. There's room here."
Everyone turned to look at her.
For one endless moment, Evie stood frozen in the doorway, feeling like prey being assessed by predators. Then someone laughed, and the spell broke. Chairs scraped as space was made. Plates appeared. Hands reached to pass dishes.
"This is Marcus, wait, no." A broad-shouldered man with sandy hair caught himself. "Michael. Sorry, brain's not working. Marcus is my cousin."
Evie's stomach clenched at the name, but she forced a smile. "Nice to meet you, Michael."
"And I'm Clara." An older woman with kind eyes and grey hair piled in a bun. "Don't mind this lot. We're loud but harmless."
"Speak for yourself," someone called from the other end, triggering a wave of laughter.
Liam slid into the seat beside her, easy smile in place. "Survived the library meeting, I see. Nate didn't scare you off?"
"Not yet," Evie managed.
"Give it time." But his grin was warm, friendly.
Food appeared on her plate... chicken, roasted potatoes, carrots. Sophie must have noticed her looking at the steaks because none of that ended up in front of her.
The conversation flowed around her in waves. Pack gossip, estate business, someone's birthday next week. They included her without demanding she participate, asked questions without prying, made space for her like she'd been there for years instead of hours.
It should have felt overwhelming. Instead, it felt... safe. Like family.
Evie watched them pass dishes, and something nagged at her. They barely spoke when reaching for things.
Someone would need salt, and it would appear before they asked. Michael went for the bread basket the same moment Clara lifted it toward him.
Coincidence. Had to be. They just knew each other well.
But it was eerie how synchronized they were.
"—unleash properly tonight," someone was saying. "Moon's almost full. I can already feel the pull."
The speaker, a young man with dark hair.. caught himself mid-sentence. His eyes darted to Evie, then away. "I mean, unwind. Long week, you know?"
"Right," Sophie said too quickly. "We all need to unwind sometimes."
An awkward pause settled over the table.
"More chicken, Evie?" Clara offered, determinedly bright.
The older woman was cutting into her steak, blood pooling on the china, meat so rare it was nearly purple in the center. She lifted a piece to her mouth, and for just a second, her teeth looked wrong.
Too sharp. Too white.
Evie blinked hard.
Normal teeth. Normal smile. Normal everything.
She was losing her mind. The concussion. Had to be the concussion.
"That's not even cooked," she said before she could stop herself.
Clara looked down at her plate, then laughed. "Oh, I like it rare. Better for you this way. More nutrients, more flavor." She took another bite, completely unbothered by the blood. "Can't stand overcooked meat. Ruins it."
Several people around the table nodded in agreement.
"I'm the same," Michael said. "The rarer the better."
"Me too," added a woman Evie hadn't met yet.
At least half the table was eating steaks that looked like they'd barely seen a pan.
Evie looked down at her thoroughly cooked chicken and felt her stomach turn.
"You alright?" Liam's voice was low, concerned. "You've gone pale."
"Fine. Just... still recovering, I think."
"Course you are. Stupid question." He squeezed her shoulder gently. "You need anything.. water, fresh air, whatever... just say the word."
The genuine care in his voice made her throat tight.
These people barely knew her, but they looked at her like she mattered. Like her comfort, her wellbeing, was important to them.
When was the last time anyone in London had looked at her like that?
Riley appeared at her elbow with a glass of water she hadn't asked for. "Thought you might want this."
"Thank you."
He nodded and slipped back to his seat, carving something from a piece of wood even while eating. His fingers moved with unconscious skill, shaping the grain into recognizable forms.
"What are you making?" Evie asked.
Riley held it up.. a wolf, half-finished but already beautiful. "For you. Since you're staying."
Her breath caught. "Riley, that's... you don't have to—"
"I want to." His eyes met hers, serious. "Mum used to say wolves are loyal. They protect their pack no matter what. Even when things get scary, even when it's dangerous, they never abandon their own."
He went back to carving. "You're pack now, Evie. We protect our own."
Pack. There was that word again.
"What do you mean, 'pack'?" she asked carefully.
Riley's eyes widened slightly, caught. "Just... you know. The staff. Everyone here. We're like a pack. Like a family." The words came out rehearsed. Carefully neutral. "That's all."
But the way he said it felt like he meant something else entirely.
Evie looked around the table. At the synchronized movements, the raw meat, the careful deflections. At the way they all seemed connected by invisible threads, moving together like a single organism.
Like a pack.
The thought came unbidden, and she immediately pushed it away.
Ridiculous. She was being ridiculous.
After lunch, Evie excused herself. The plaster on her forehead was itching badly, and her ribs ached from sitting upright too long. Sophie pointed her toward the second-floor washroom, giving detailed directions that Evie immediately forgot.
The estate was a maze. Stone corridors that all looked the same, portraits of stern-faced ancestors watching from the walls, rooms branching off in every direction.
She took a wrong turn somewhere and ended up in an unfamiliar hallway.
Voices drifted from a partially open door ahead.
"—can't just tell her, Nate."
Evie froze.
"I know that, Sophie." Nate's voice, strained in a way she hadn't heard before. Frustrated. Maybe afraid.
"But she's not stupid. She saw something today, and I deflected, but she's going to keep looking."
"Then we're careful," Liam said. "No shifting near the house. No pack gatherings in sight of the windows until—"
"Shifting?" Nate's voice cut through. "Liam, the full moon is in three days. You can't seriously expect the pack to suppress the change on a full moon. It's not just uncomfortable, it's painful."
Silence.
Then Sophie: "So what do we do? Tell her now? She's been here barely two days, Nate. You spring this on her before she's ready, she'll run."
"And if she runs, you'll follow." Liam's voice was gentle but knowing. "The bond won't let you do anything else. You'll chase her across the country if you have to."
"I know." Two words, heavy with frustration and something that sounded like despair.
Another pause.
"Maybe..." Sophie's voice was hesitant. "Maybe she's stronger than we think. She survived betrayal, survived that crash, survived hypothermia. Maybe she can handle the truth."
"Or maybe it breaks her." Nate sounded wrecked. "She's already fragile, Sophie. Her entire life just fell apart. I can't add this to it. Not yet."
"You might not have a choice. The longer you wait, the worse it'll be when she finds out you've been lying."
Evie's heart hammered against her bruised ribs.
Shifting. Bond. Full moon. Pack.
What the hell were they talking about?
She backed away slowly, carefully, not breathing until she'd turned the corner.
Then she ran.
- Writer
