Page 31 of The Pack

The clothes fit well enough, though there was no sign of underwear. Their absence made my cheeks burn again as I shifted uncomfortably, hyper-aware of the fabric against my bare skin.

Once I was dressed, I looked around the room. It was stark and utilitarian—a narrow bed pushed against one wall, a rickety chair by a small wooden table that looked like it might collapse if I breathed on it too hard. The stone walls were rough and cold, their surface marred by deep grooves where time had worn them away. A thin slit of a window let in a shard of morning light.

The door creaked when I pushed it open, the sound echoing faintly in the quiet. I stepped into a narrow hallway, the stones beneath my feet uneven and worn smooth in places. The air smelled faintly of damp earth, and a chill seeped into my skin as I moved forward. The ceiling arched high above me, the beams heavy and darkened with age.

The place was old. Cracks webbed through the stone, and in places, mortar crumbled away. Still, someone had taken the time to reinforce parts of it. Wooden planks covered the larger gaps in the walls, and makeshift repairs held the structure together. It wasn’t perfect, but it was solid enough to serve as a shelter.

I followed the hallway, the faint scent of mildew mingling with something fresher—the smell of the sea. The space opened up into a larger room with a high ceiling and a massive fireplace carved into one wall. The remnants of carvings adorned the stones, worn to the point where I could barely make out the shapes of shields and beasts.

A heavy wooden door stood ajar, light spilling through the gap. I stepped outside and was met with the crisp morning air. The sky was bright, and the scent of salt filled my lungs.

The castle—or what was left of it—was perched on the edge of a cliff, overlooking the sea. The structure itself sprawled in all directions, its towers half-collapsed and its walls jagged with age. Moss crept up the stones, and ivy coiled like veins across the ruins. The building I’d come from seemed to be the most intact, but smaller structures surrounded it, their roofs caved in or missing entirely.

The clearing around the castle was bordered by dense woods, the trees standing like sentinels against the horizon. It was a strangemix of wild and ancient, as though the land itself had conspired to preserve the ruins somehow and make them a part of it.

The sound of voices drew my attention. Beyond one of the smaller towers, a campfire crackled, and I spotted the five men sitting around it.

They were shirtless, their bare chests glistening in the morning light, and each wore nothing more than a pair of pants. It was hard not to stare—really hard—but I forced myself to look into the fire instead. I felt my cheeks flush and I hoped they wouldn’t see.

They hadn’t noticed me yet, too caught up in their conversation.

“Did you see the way she looked at me before she ran?” Killian said, his Irish lilt dripping with amusement. “Like I was some kind of beast about to eat her whole.”

“Can you blame her?” Callum said, his mouth lifting with a grin. “Youarea beast. And I mean that literally.”

“Watch it, pup,” Killian shot back, though there was no real bite in his voice.

“Enough,” Magnus said, his tone calm but commanding. “She just needs time to adjust.”

Thorne poked at the fire with a stick. “Time won’t change the fact that she doesn’t trust us.”

“Why would she?” Tobias asked, leaning back against a rock. His brooding gaze fixed on the flames, his expression unreadable. “We’re not exactly her knights in shining armor.”

“Well, maybe notshining,” Callum smiled. “But we did save her life. That’s got to count for something.”

I cleared my throat, and five pairs of eyes turned to me all at once.

The weight of their stares was enough to make my cheeks flush again, but I stood my ground, refusing to let them see the way my heart raced and my core clenched tight with desire at the sight of them.

For a moment, none of them spoke. Then Killian broke the silence with a slow, wolfish grin. “Good morning, lass. Sleep well?”

Killian’s grin widened as I hesitated at the edge of the clearing, the firelight dancing in his golden-brown eyes. His fiery red hair was a mess, sticking up in wild tufts like he’d just rolled out of bed—or shifted back from wolf form, more likely. His lean, wiry build was at odds with the powerful energy he exuded, like a predator ready to pounce.

“Well?” he said, cocking his head. “You just gonna stand there, or are you joinin’ us?”

The others didn’t speak, but their gazes stayed locked on me. Magnus’s eyes were unreadable, calm and steady as always. Tobias leaned against a rock with his arms crossed, his brooding presence as dark and imposing as the storm clouds gathering in the distance. Callum’s kind gray eyes held something softer—concern, maybe? And then there was Thorne, his pale blue eyes cold and calculating, his body as still as a statue.

I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to turn and run.

What’s the point? You’ve already seen the worst of them.

And as much as I hated to admit it, my best chance of survival lay with them.

Slowly, I walked over and lowered myself onto a flat stone near the fire. The heat warmed my hands as I rubbed them together, trying to find some sense of normalcy in the situation.

No one spoke at first. The silence stretched, heavy and awkward, until I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Who exactly are you all?” I asked, looking up at them. My voice came out stronger than I’d expected, but my pulse still raced in my ears. “What’s your deal?”

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