CHAPTER 3:Pack of Problems
1118 Words
Luna Ashwood had done a lot of dumb things in her life.
She once tried to wrestle a raccoon for a bag of jerky. She once went on a date with a guy who said “rawr” unironically. She once let Saffy convince her that glitter body spray counted as personality.
But this?
This was a new level of bad decision-making.
Because Luna Ashwood—rogue, commitment-phobe, queen of poor life choices—was standing at the wrought-iron gates of the Blackfang Pack compound.
Wearing jeans.
A flannel.
And a literal mate bond humming like a neon sign in her chest.
All for pancakes.
Pancakes.
What the hell was she doing?
---
“Okay,” she muttered, adjusting the strap of her camera bag. “I’ll go in. Eat one polite pancake. Say something vaguely charming. Then leave before anyone calls me ‘future Luna’ or asks about breeding cycles.”
The gates creaked open on their own.
Luna jumped. “Oh Moon, it’s voice activated?”
“Actually,” said a voice beside her, “I pressed the button.”
Luna yelped, spun around, and saw Theo—Blackfang’s nervous little cinnamon roll of an omega—waving at her from behind a flower pot.
“I saw you standing out here muttering to yourself,” he said sheepishly. “I didn’t want to interrupt your… pep talk?”
“It was more like a breakdown.”
“Oh good. That’s normal here.”
---
Theo led her through the sprawling forested property, which was… shockingly cozy. Wooden cabins. Stone paths. String lights in the trees. Wolves napping on porches like furry sentinels.
“This place is like a Pinterest board for ‘forest murder chic,’” Luna muttered.
Theo laughed nervously. “Mira did the decorating. She says rustic threats are more romantic.”
“Is she here?”
Theo paled. “Oh yes. She’s been preparing for your arrival since Knox texted her last night.”
“What does ‘preparing’ mean?”
“Last time someone brought home a potential mate, she built a gazebo and hired a harpist.”
Luna stopped walking. “I’m going to die here.”
---
The pack house was a three-story log mansion that looked like it came straight out of a werewolf-themed Hallmark movie.
Inside: chaos.
Kids howled and darted underfoot. A beta tried to wrangle a very enthusiastic German Shepherd that may or may not have been one of the cousins. Someone yelled, “PUT THE MAPLE SYRUP DOWN, CARL!” and a loud crash followed.
Luna’s eyes widened.
Theo beamed. “Home sweet home!”
---
In the dining hall, a long table was packed with wolves—some human-shaped, some halfway shifted, some just napping in their fur.
At the head sat Knox, looking infuriatingly calm in a dark henley and jeans, flipping a pancake with the casual ease of someone who didn’t just have his maybe-mate show up looking like she was ready to bolt.
He looked up. Met her eyes.
And smiled.
Not smug. Not growly. Just… soft.
Luna’s stomach did something stupid and fluttery.
“Welcome, Luna,” he said, setting the pancake on a plate like it was an offering to the gods. “Glad you came.”
“I came for the carbs.”
“Even better.”
She sat—awkwardly—next to Theo. Across from her, Knox kept sneaking glances at her like he wasn’t even trying to hide it. Like looking at her made him happy.
She hated how her cheeks warmed under that look.
Mira Moonclaw appeared from a puff of glitter and essential oils, clutching a lavender-scented apron and a terrifying amount of enthusiasm.
“LUNA!” she shrieked, descending on her like a wolf with a wedding plan. “You’re glowing! Look at your aura! It’s practically screaming fertile cosmic resonance!”
“...Ma’am I just ate a pancake.”
“Nonsense! You’re clearly the future Luna of Blackfang! I already made you a sash!”
She pulled out a sash.
It said “LUNA MATE 4 LIFE”
Theo quietly slid a pancake over to Luna with a whispered, “I’m so sorry. She once married a lamp.”
---
Knox, trying to rescue her from Mira’s love-struck grasp, stood and clapped his hands. “Alright, everyone. This morning’s meeting-s***h-breakfast-s***h-chaos session is now a welcome brunch for Luna.”
Everyone howled.
Luna immediately regretted existing.
Then Knox added, “And after pancakes, I invite you all to the morning pack activity.”
Mira gasped. “You didn’t!”
Knox smirked. “Wolf yoga.”
Wolf yoga.
---
30 minutes later.
Luna stood in a circle of werewolves in various states of shift. Knox was shirtless and leading breathing exercises like some sexy, mystical gym instructor. Theo was already in child’s pose. Mira was doing full splits on a pink glitter mat.
“Breathe in. Connect with the moon,” Knox said.
“I’m connecting with my embarrassment,” Luna muttered.
“Now, downward wolf.”
Half the group howled.
A young wolf farted loudly. Everyone politely ignored it.
Luna attempted the pose. Immediately regretted it. “This is just glorified pack stretching with spiritual side effects.”
Knox moved beside her, gently corrected her position. His hand brushed her shoulder. Warm. Careful. The mate bond shimmered like a whisper in her bones.
She shivered.
He leaned in. Voice low. “You’re doing great.”
“Shut up before I bite your other shoulder.”
“I was hoping you would.”
---
After yoga (and trauma), Luna found herself sitting alone on the porch, sipping lemon water and wondering if she was slowly being indoctrinated into a cult—or a very attractive commune.
Knox appeared beside her, handed her a cookie. “Theo made these. He calls them ‘emotionally stable snickerdoodles.’”
Luna snorted. “They taste like therapy.”
“Better than scented oils and sash attacks.”
They sat in silence for a while.
Finally, she said, “I still don’t know if I want this.”
“I know.”
“But… this was nice. Weird. But nice.”
He looked at her. “That’s all I need for now.”
She looked back.
And didn’t run.
---
Meanwhile, back in town...
Saffy was at The Grumpy Bean Cafe, showing the barista security footage of Luna and Knox doing wolf yoga while narrating in her best National Geographic voice.
“And here we see the female in the wild, resisting the mate bond while performing ancient wolf mating stretches. Observe the hip tension.”
The barista blinked. “Ma’am this is a donut shop.”
- Writer
