Page 29 of The Pack

“She ran because she’s smart,” Thorne cut in, his English accent sharp and clipped. His pale eyes fixed on the horizon, his posture as rigid as ever. “She doesn’t trust us. Why would she?”

“Probably because we saved her from becoming feral wolf chow,” I said, grinning despite myself. “Or maybe because we’re not the ones dumpin’ poor sods like her into the wilds to die.”

Thorne’s jaw tightened, and he shot me a warning look. “Watch it, Killian.”

“Or what?” I said, the grin widening. “You’ll bore me to death with one of your monologues about honor and duty?”

“That’s enough,” Magnus said firmly, his tone cutting through our bickering like a knife. “Save it for later. We’ve got enough problems without tearing into each other.”

“Aye, fearless leader,” I said, mock-saluting him.

Magnus ignored me, his attention shifting back to the trail ahead.

We walked in relative silence for a while, the rustle of leaves and the soft trickle of a nearby stream the only sounds that I could hear. The forest was quiet—too quiet, if you asked me—but I wasn’t going to bring it up. Magnus already had enough on his plate without me throwing in my two cents about the eerie lack of wildlife.

The truth was being with this lot always made me think about how we got here, about how none of us should have survived as long as we had.

About what life was like before the Collapse.

I met Callum and Tobias first, stumbling across them while I was half-feral myself, hungry and desperate and angry at the world. I’d bitten them both before I even knew their names, and it wasn’t until later—when the guilt set in—that I’d decided to stick around and make sure they didn’t go mad like so many others.

Then there was Magnus. The level-headed cousin they’d run to when things got bad, trusting him to keep them safe even though it meant dragging him into the madness. He could have turned them in. Hell, he probably should have, but he didn’t.Then, when Tobias made the mistake of trusting a townsperson, Magnus ended up bitten, too.

He never blamed us for it. At least, not out loud.

And then there was Thorne. The soldier sent to hunt wolves like me—wolves who’d escaped into the countryside after the outbreak. He’d tracked me for days, cornering me like I was some kind of animal. In the fight when he tried to capture me, I bit him. He’d been the last one to join our pack.

We’d been through hell together, each of us with our own scars, our own regrets, yet somehow, we’d survived.

And right now, it felt like all of that had been in preparation for finding her.

Zara stirred slightly, her head pressing against my chest. I glanced down at her, the guilt I tried so hard to ignore creeping back in.

“We’re all bastards, aren’t we?” I said quietly, breaking the silence.

Tobias grunted, his dark gaze cutting toward me. “Speak for yourself.”

“Speak for all of us,” Callum said, his tone soft. “But maybe… maybe we’re not as bad as we think we are.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s your optimistic side talkin’, Callum. Don’t let Tobias hear it; he might combust.”

Callum laughed, the sound light despite the tension in the air. “If he combusts, it’s because you keep pushing his buttons.”

“Someone has to.” I grinned.

Magnus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m surrounded by children.”

“You love us,” I countered.

“God help me, I do,” he muttered.

Thorne, ever the stoic one, didn’t join in, but his silence wasn’t unusual. He carried his own weight, his own demons, and he didn’t feel the need to share them.

As we continued walking, I tightened my hold on Zara, feeling the slow, rhythmic beat of her heart against mine. Whatever was ahead, we’d face it together. We always did.

And now, like it or not, she was a part of us too.

As our mate.

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