Page 69 of The Pack

I stared out at the forest, the morning sunlight filtering through the trees, but all I could see was the sterile white walls of that facility. The hum of the machines echoed faintly in my mind, the words of that cold man ringing like a death knell.

She’ll get what she deserves.

I rubbed at my wrist absentmindedly, as though I could still feel the bite of the restraints.

“Oi, lass. Let’s stop for a second, just the two of us.”

Killian’s voice broke through the fog, and I turned to find him standing a few paces away, his fiery red hair catching the sunlight. His golden-brown eyes were edged with curiosity, but there was a warmth in them that softened the edges of his usual mischief.

He crossed the short distance between us, leaning casually against a nearby tree. “What’s goin’ on in that head of yours? You’ve got a look like you just saw a ghost.”

I hesitated, my fingers tightening on the edge of the cloak. “Do you really want to know?”

Killian tilted his head, his grin faltering slightly. “Wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

I searched his face for a moment, trying to gauge how much I could trust him. There was something disarming about Killian, something that made it hard to stay guarded around him. Maybe it was his easygoing smile or the way he always seemed to bring levity to even the darkest moments.

“It’s not a pretty story,” I said finally, my voice quieter.

“Pretty’s overrated,” he said, his grin returning, though softer this time. “Tell me anyway.”

So I did.

I told him about London—about the soldiers who had taken me, the cold, clinical facility they dragged me to. I told him about the man in the coat, the needle, the way they’d talked about me like I was some kind of experiment.

I told him how they’d stripped away my humanity with a few cold words and a vial of something I still didn’t completely understand.

When I finished, my voice was trembling, and my hands clenched so tightly that my knuckles ached. I risked a glance at Killian, half-expecting him to laugh it off or make one of his usual jokes.

But he didn’t.

He was silent for a long moment, his golden eyes darker than I’d ever seen them. Finally, he let out a low breath, running a hand through his wild hair.

“That’s… heavy, Zara,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

I blinked, his sincerity catching me off guard. “Thanks,” I whispered.

Killian’s gaze lingered on me, his usual humor tempered by something more serious.

“But I’ll tell you somethin’ else,” he said, his tone shifting. “I’m not sorry it brought you to us.”

My breath hitched, and I looked up at him, his words settling over me like a warm blanket.

“Look, I know we’re a bunch of mangy wolves,” he said, his grin on full display again. “But we’ve got your back, lass. Whatever happens, you’re not alone in this.”

The knot in my chest loosened just a little, and for the first time that morning, I managed a small smile.

“Thanks, Killian,” I said softly.

His eyes gleamed with mischief. “We’d better keep movin’ before Magnus scolds us for laggin’ behind and starts hummin’ some old tune again,” he said.

“He’s not that bad,” I chuckled.

“That’s because you’ve never been on a three-day trek with him humming the same goddamn tune the whole time,” he smirked, and I laughed.

He winked, stepping ahead to join Callum and Tobias, who were walking slightly ahead. Magnus, as always, led the group.

“Where are we?” I asked out loud.

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