Grace guides Cassandra through the long wooden halls of the packhouse with a steady hand and quiet warmth. The building smells of cedar, forest moss, and the faintest trace of wild magic, something ancient and grounding in her bones. Cassie can feel it thrumming beneath the floorboards, like the heartbeat of a sleeping beast.
When they stop at a heavy oak door near the far end of the hallway, Grace gives her a gentle smile. "This is yours. Fresh clothes are waiting inside. Take all the time you need."
"Thank you," Cassie says softly, her voice rough with exhaustion and emotion. She meets the Alpha Female's eyes for a moment, storm-grey and full of secrets and feels, oddly, like she's being seen. Not watched. Not judged.
Seen.
With a nod, Grace steps away and leaves Cassie alone.
The second the door closes, Cassie exhales. Her wolf paws at the surface of her mind, still restless from the three-day journey in their shared skin. It's the longest they've stayed shifted, and while her wolf is resilient, her human side is screaming for hot water, privacy, and a proper bed.
She takes in the room, modest but beautiful. Polished wood floors, large windows framed with deep green curtains, and a massive bed draped in forest-coloured quilts. On top of the bed, folded neatly, are clean clothes, boots, and blessedly, a hairbrush.
She spots a door leading to the ensuite bathroom and doesn't hesitate.
The moment the hot water hits her skin, she nearly melts on the spot. Dirt, grime and stress swirl down the drain, and with them, the last physical traces of her old life. She closes her eyes and lets the steam wrap around her, grounding herself in this strange new reality.
When she finally steps out, scrubbed, soft, and smelling vaguely like jasmine, she dries off and dresses. The clothes fit perfectly. Even the boots are the right size.
"Abby," she murmurs with a small smile. Of course Abby would've slipped Grace the details. That woman prepared for everything.
Cassie sits on the edge of the bed and fingers the hem of her shirt. Her duffel bag, stuffed with photos, a silver locket from her mother, and one pair of ripped jeans, lies slumped at the foot of the bed like a sad little relic. Everything she owns now fits in that single bag. Everything she was.
She should be grieving.
And yet...a strange spark flickers in her chest. Possibility.
After a few moments exploring the room, admiring the delicate forest motifs etched into the window frames and the little wolf-carved mirror above the desk, Cassie ties her long dark hair into a messy bun.
Then she paces.
Should she stay here until someone comes for her? Wait for Grace to summon her? Or...venture out?
She's still undecided when her stomach answers for her, loudly. With a resigned sigh and cheeks burning, she tiptoes to the door, opens it just a crack, and peeks out. The hallway is quiet.
Taking a deep breath, she steps out and follows the scent of roasted meat, baked bread, and sizzling herbs. Her wolf's nose guides her to a wide, sunlit kitchen bustling with movement and warm laughter. The clink of dishes and chatter instantly soothes something deep inside her.
And then she spots Sasha.
Relieved, Cassie makes a beeline for the tall woman, who looks up just in time to flash her a knowing grin.
"Well, look who survived the wild and came out squeaky clean," Sasha teases, walking over and pulling her into a light hug. "Not bad, pixie girl. You even smell normal now."
Cassie lets out a nervous laugh. "Thanks...I think?"
Sasha waves her hand. "Oh, definitely a compliment. Come, sit. You must be starving."
Cassie doesn't argue. She's ushered to a large wooden table near the window while Sasha barks a few friendly orders at the kitchen staff. A moment later, a plate of roasted vegetables, buttered bread, and sizzling venison stew appears in front of her.
She digs in gratefully, unsure if she should cry or propose to the cook.
As she eats, Sasha fills the silence with stories, about the pack, the mountains, Grace's borderline terrifying leadership moments, and how Michael once got caught trying to dye Aidan's fur blue in wolf form. Cassie finds herself laughing, the tension in her shoulders slowly unravelling.
It's the first time in weeks she feels like a person again.
Until a voice shatters the peace.
"Who the hell is this?"
The kitchen freezes. Conversations die. Utensils stop clinking.
Cassie's spoon hangs halfway to her mouth. The sound of that voice sends a cold spike of warning through her spine, deep, masculine, and threaded with unmistakable Alpha authority.
Sasha exhales long and hard, rolling her eyes. "This, dear brother, is our mother's invited guest," she says sweetly, but with just enough sarcasm to hint she's two seconds from throwing a butter knife. "So try not to scare the new girl."
Cassie turns slowly. And stares.
The man towering in the kitchen's doorway is tall, easily six-foot-four, with raven-dark hair tousled like he just ran his hands through it in frustration. His sharp jaw and high cheekbones look like they were carved from mountain stone. His eyes, steel grey and glinting with annoyance, lock onto her like she's an unsolved puzzle.
Or an irritant under his boot.
Cassie swallows hard. "Pleased to meet you, sir..." she murmurs, bowing her head in automatic submission.
Sasha snorts beside her. "This is Darius. Our charming Alpha. Or as we like to call him: the Big Bad Mood."
Darius doesn't smile. He doesn't even blink. "Another one of Mother's strays, I see," he mutters, not bothering to address Cassie directly.
Her back stiffens. The words sting more than she expects.
Cassie isn't the kind to argue. She's not confrontational. But something about this arrogant, dismissive giant grates against her very last nerve. Maybe it's the exhaustion. Or the three days of silence. Or maybe it's the way he won't even look at her properly.
"You're rude," she says quietly. Firmly.
The kitchen gasps. Sasha coughs on her water. Cassie blinks, stunned by her own boldness.
Darius lifts his brow slowly, a wolf sensing challenge. "Excuse me?"
Before he can lunge or lecture, Grace glides into the kitchen like a storm cloud in heels.
"Darius," she says, her voice velvet and steel. "Leave the girl alone."
He straightens, scowling. "She..."
"She's a guest," Grace snaps, planting herself between him and Cassie.
Cassie peeks around Grace's shoulder. Darius catches the motion. She sticks out her tongue before she can stop herself.
His nostrils flare.
Grace, unaware of the rebellion behind her back, presses a hand to her son's chest. "Go. Run it off."
"But..."
"Now."
He glares over her shoulder, straight at Cassie. "This isn't over," he mutters darkly, pointing a warning finger before turning on his heel and stalking out of the kitchen.
Sasha's laughter explodes like fireworks.
Cassie sinks into her seat, mortified. "I just poked a big bad wolf, didn't I?"
"A very large, grumpy, high-ranking wolf," Sasha says, wiping a tear. "With anger issues and a penchant for brooding on cliffs."
"Fantastic," Cassie mutters. "Do I get a medal?"
"You get something better," Sasha says with a wicked grin. "His attention. And trust me...for Darius? That's rare."
Cassie groans and drops her head onto the table. "Why am I like this?"
Her wolf huffs in amusement.
Because you don't belong under anyone's boot.