Page 37 of The Pack

The walk back to camp was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Thorne stayed by my side, his presence a silent reassurance asmy thoughts churned about my brother and what his being a shifter might mean.

When we stepped out of the forest, the rest of the pack was gathered around the fire. The scent of roasting venison filled the air, rich and earthy, making my stomach growl despite myself. Callum was hunched over a large skillet, using a stick to stir something while Killian lounged nearby, a mischievous grin on his face as he teased Magnus about the castle walls.

“We’ll need more timber,” Magnus was saying, his silver eyes glinting as he traced lines on a paper map spread across a flat stone. “The southern tower is holding for now, but another storm and it’ll collapse completely.”

Tobias, seated on a rock with his arms crossed, nodded. “We’ll focus on the tower tomorrow. Tonight, let’s just eat.”

“Not a bad idea, mate,” Killian said, stretching lazily. “You get grumpy when you’re hungry.”

Tobias shot him a glare, but Callum chuckled, waving us over. “Thorne, Zara, you’re just in time. Grab a seat. Venison’s almost done.”

Thorne moved to the fire without hesitation, lowering himself onto a log beside Magnus. I hesitated, hovering at the edge of the group, but Callum caught my eye and patted the ground next to him.

“Come on,” he said, his voice warm. “You’ve got to be starving.”

I swallowed hard, my gaze flicking between them before I forced myself forward. Sitting down felt strange, too casual after everything that had happened, but the warmth of the fire and thesmell of the food eased some of the tension that was still knotted in my chest.

Killian handed me a plate—a simple metal one, scuffed and dented—and I mumbled my thanks as he grinned. “You’re welcome, lass. Venison’s fresh. Caught it myself.”

“Caught it,” Tobias muttered under his breath. “More like scared it half to death with all your noise.”

Killian shrugged, unbothered. “Still caught it.”

I took a bite, the rich, smoky flavor of the meat grounding me for a moment. The fire crackled, the flames causing flickering shadows to dance on the worn stone walls of the castle.

Magnus traced a finger along the map spread out on a flat stone, his eyes narrowing as he studied it.

“They’ll come through here if they find us,” he said, his tone resolute and steely. “We’ll need to seal off the vulnerable points. If we don’t, it won’t matter how well we hide.”

The wordhideechoed in my mind, triggering a memory that hit me like a thunderclap.

I was in my apartment, the lights dimmed, and my heart pounding in against my ribcage like a hammer. My brother sat on the floor, his knees drawn to his chest, his dark eyes wide with fear.

“Zara,” he whispered. “This isn’t going to work.”

“It has to,” I said, my voice trembling. My hands were shaking as I pressed the hidden panel back into place, sealing him intothe small room I’d built behind the closet. “Just stay quiet. They won’t find you.”

The sound of boots pounding on the stairs made my breath hitch, and I turned to face the door just as it burst open. Uniformed officers flooded the room, their voices loud and commanding.

“Zara Yorke,” one of them barked, stepping forward. “You are under arrest for harboring wolf shifter Logan Yorke, and obstruction of justice. You have the right to remain silent…”

The words blurred, their meaning lost as two officers dragged me forward. I fought against their grip, my eyes darting toward the hidden panel, willing them not to see it.

But they did.

One of them pulled the panel aside, revealing my older brother curled up inside. His eyes met mine, wide with panic, as they dragged him out.

“Don’t touch him!” I screamed, struggling against the officers holding me. “He’s not dangerous! He’s not like the others!”

My pleas fell on deaf ears. They hauled him out the door, their grips rough, and I was forced to watch as they carried him down the stairs and out into the cold night.

The memory shifted, the edges of it blurring as the scene changed.

We were outside now, the air rife with the scent of exhaust and rain. My brother was being loaded onto the back of a truck, his hands bound, his eyes filled with terror.

The vehicle was dark and unmarked, save for a single detail that stood out in stark relief: a single word painted across the bumper.

Dublin.

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