The Lycan King’s Mate

Chapter 2:

Rein’s POV

There’s something surreal about walking into a house that holds pieces of your heart, but none of the people who built it with you. As I stepped into our old family home—the one Mom used to light up with her laughter and Dad with his cheesy dad jokes—I felt a chill crawl up my spine.

Nothing had changed. The soft beige walls still wore the crayon art I drew when I was five, and the wooden banister still had that chip Dad swore he’d fix “tomorrow.” Spoiler alert: tomorrow never came.

My fingers skimmed across the dusty frame of a photo on the wall. It was the four of us—Mom, Dad, my little sister… and me. I looked so happy in that photo. My chest tightened as my throat closed up. I wasn’t going to cry. Nope. Not today, Satan.

Okay, maybe just one tear. A small one. A respectable tear.

I blinked rapidly and moved into the living room, hoping a good memory would replace the ache in my chest.

I didn’t even have time to breathe before—

“RAAAAAIN!”

Something—or someone—crashed into me like a derailed freight train. I shrieked as I was tackled to the floor, arms flailing like an inflatable car dealership guy.

“Rachel, you savage! Get off me before you break my spine!”

She only tightened her grip, her frizzy curls bouncing as she laughed like a maniac. “You left without saying goodbye, you traitor!”

“I had a plane to catch! And I did say goodbye… in the group chat!” I gasped, trying to squirm out from under her.

“Oh please, an emoji and a ‘bye babes’ doesn’t count!” she pouted, now sitting comfortably on top of me like I was her personal throne.

Before I could respond, more bodies joined the chaos.

“Oh no—SOPHIA NO!” I yelled just as she flopped on top of Rachel.

“Cuddle pile!” Sophia giggled.

“ADAM NO—” Too late. He was already laying across my legs like I was some kind of couch.

I looked up in horror to see Keith standing with a mischievous grin and Lisa filming everything on her phone while Julius and Alejandro howled with laughter from the doorway.

“I swear to the moon, Keith,” I warned, “if you even think about jumping—”

He put his hands up innocently. “I wasn’t going to! I was gonna save you!” He marched over and started pulling Sophia and Rachel off me while I gasped for air.

Rachel just clung tighter. “Never letting go. You’re my blanket now.”

“Then get ready for sweaty armpits and emotional baggage, babe,” I wheezed.

Eventually, after much wrestling, shoving, and one accidental kick to Adam’s face (sorry, bro), I was free. I stood up, dramatic and victorious like a queen rising from battle, and immediately launched myself into a proper hug with each of them.

“You guys are the worst. I missed you all so much.” I couldn’t stop smiling, even as my cheeks ached.

“We missed you more,” Lisa said, brushing my hair from my face like a proud older sister.

We spent the rest of the afternoon catching up on everything and nothing at once. Julius had a new girlfriend (gasp), Alejandro had dyed his hair electric blue (“It’s a personality statement!”), and Rachel… well, she’d apparently joined a pottery class and was “weirdly good” at making clay butts. Don’t ask. Just… don’t.

By the time evening rolled around, the sky had turned a soft lilac. The laughter had quieted into peaceful conversations and warm glances, the kind you exchange with people who’ve been your forever people.

Lisa sat beside me on the porch steps, Keith leaning against the railing.

“So…” she began, nudging me gently. “You sure you want to stay here? In your parents’ house?”

Keith added, “The pack house always has space for you. You’re family. We’d love to have you close.”

I looked out into the yard where my dad used to grill the world’s driest burgers and Mom would sunbathe with a book and a floppy hat. This place… it still held them. Even if only in echoes and smells and sunlight through the curtains.

“I love you guys for offering,” I said, resting my chin on my knees. “But this house… it’s home. I know it’s a little lonely, and kinda dusty, and probably haunted by my sister’s stuffed bunny, but—this is where I feel close to them.”

Lisa’s hand wrapped around mine, warm and firm. “Then we’ll make sure it never feels too lonely.”

Keith smiled. “And if it gets too haunted, I’m bringing sage.”

I chuckled. “Thank you, ghostbusters.”

As the first stars began to appear in the night sky, I leaned back against the porch post and breathed in deep.

For the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel like I was just surviving. I was… living again. Laughing. Loving. Remembering.

And maybe, just maybe, I was ready for whatever came next.

Even if it came in the form of a dangerously hot stranger with eyes like storms and secrets I wasn’t ready to face.

After the hugs, laughter, and mild suffocation from my overexcited best friends, I finally closed the front door behind me, silence wrapping around the house once again like a familiar blanket.

The echoes of everyone’s voices still lingered in the air—Rachel’s dramatic shrieks, Julius’ laughter, and Lisa’s soft, warm reassurances. But now it was just me. Just Rein, in a house too quiet for its size.

I wandered into the kitchen with a yawn so wide I nearly dislocated my jaw. My stomach growled like a tiny werewolf cub. “Okay, okay, I hear you,” I mumbled, flipping open the pantry doors like I was revealing treasure.

There it was—my childhood favorite. The same slightly-sugary, slightly-soggy cereal my mom used to pour into a big pink bowl for me every single morning before school.

A soft ache tightened in my chest.

I grabbed the box and milk, mixing them together with slow, thoughtful movements. As I sat at the counter and took the first bite, the memories hit me like a warm breeze on a cold day.

My mom’s voice, humming along to her favorite songs. Her hair always up in a messy bun, glasses crooked on her face while she burned toast and giggled about it. The way she’d plop a spoon into my bowl and kiss my forehead like it was just part of the recipe.

I smiled through a small lump in my throat.

“Wherever you are, Mom,” I whispered softly, “I hope you’re happy. I hope you’re still humming… and burning toast.”

I finished the cereal in quiet bites, letting the silence be a soft companion rather than something to fear. When I was done, I stood, rinsed my bowl in the sink, and gave the counter a lazy wipe like I was on a cooking show with no camera crew.

“Perfect,” I declared to no one, tossing the dishrag back like a boss.

Heading upstairs, I slipped out of my jeans and into my favorite oversized T-shirt, the one that read “Nap Queen” in cracked gold letters. The room looked just the way I left it—posters on the walls, a slightly tilted bookshelf, and my old diary still peeking out from under the bed.

The bed let out a familiar creak as I flopped onto it, arms spread wide like a starfish. I stared at the ceiling, letting my thoughts run wild and soft all at once.

I missed them. God, I missed them so much. But there was comfort in being here… in seeing pieces of them in every corner.

My eyelids began to droop, heavy with good memories. I pulled the blanket over my body and curled into a warm little ball of nostalgia and cereal.

The last thing I remember before drifting off was a memory—Mom brushing my hair while humming off-key, and Dad sneaking up behind her to steal a kiss, both of them laughing like kids.

With that image in my mind and the scent of home in the air, I finally let sleep take me.