Chapter 4 - Raegan
The silence in the room could cut glass.
I stand in the doorway with Bastian’s hand in mine, watching my announcement land on the assembled pack leadership like a grenade.
Every face around the conference table registers shock in different ways—Dorian’s mouth drops open, Kira’s mug freezes halfway to her lips, and Ash looks like she might faint.
But it’s Oren’s reaction that makes me hold my breath. My brother’s face cycles through emotions faster than I can track them. Shock melts into confusion, then hardens into something that looks dangerously close to rage.
“Fiancé?” His voice comes out flat and deadly calm. “Who is he?”
“Bastian Corvelli,” I repeat, squeezing my fiancé’s hand for courage. “We’ve been together for six months.”
Being back in this room after three years away feels surreal.
This is the same conference table where I used to sit during pack meetings as a teenager, the same wall where Wyn always positions himself during important discussions.
My eyes dart to that familiar spot against the wall, and there he is.
Wyn Lemay stands in his usual spot, and fury is oozing from every line of his body when he sees me. His face is stone, but his eyes burn with rage. Which makes absolutely no sense, considering he rejected me.
The sight of him makes my heart pound with a familiar longing I thought I’d buried.
“Six months,” Oren repeats, but his voice is getting dangerously quiet. “And this is the first I’m hearing about any relationship?”
“I told you I was seeing someone when you visited,” I defensively point out. “You just didn’t ask for details.”
“Because I assumed if it was serious, you’d mention it!” His voice rises, and I watch the other pack leaders shift uncomfortably in their seats. “An engagement isn’t exactly casual dating, Raegan.”
“I’m twenty-three years old,” I remind him. “I don’t need your permission to get engaged.”
“Maybe not permission,” Dorian interjects, “but traditionally, family involvement in such decisions is expected. Especially given your position.”
My position. Always back to that. Never just Raegan making a choice about her own life, but the alpha’s sister making a decision that could affect pack relations.
The weight comes crashing down on my shoulders like it always does when I’m back in Grayhide territory.
Three years of freedom in Llewelyn, three years of being valued for my mind and my contributions rather than my bloodline, and within minutes of being home, I’m right back to being a political chess piece.
“I understand the protocol,” I manage through gritted teeth. “But I also understand that I’m an adult who can make her own choices.”
“Can you?” This comes from Emin, who’s been quiet up to this point. “Or are you making choices based on information someone else provided?”
I cock my head to the side and ask, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” Oren begins, his voice growing colder, “that six months is awfully fast to go from first meeting to engagement, especially for someone as careful as you usually are.”
He’s not wrong. I’ve always been intentional about relationships, taking my time to get to know someone before committing to anything serious. The fact that I accepted Bastian’s proposal so quickly should probably concern me.
But that’s not the point.
Bastian clears his throat, and his diplomatic training is evident in the way he handles the growing hostility in the room. “Alpha Blacklock, I understand your concern. This probably seems sudden from your perspective.”
Oren’s gaze snaps to Bastian, and I see him take in every detail. The expensive suit, the confident posture, the way Bastian carries himself like someone accustomed to handling delicate political situations. My brother doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t have to.
“Bastian Corvelli, as Raegan mentioned. I’m an exchange student from outside the valley, studying interpack relations at Llewelyn University.” His smile is warm and genuine, the same one that first caught my attention six months ago. “I specialize in resource management and trade agreements.”
“From where, exactly?” This question comes from Dorian, who’s leaning forward in his chair with every bit of his attention as an alpha leader assessing a potential threat.
“The eastern territories,” Bastian replies without missing a beat. “My pack focuses primarily on agricultural development and sustainable resource extraction. We’ve had limited contact with the Edune Valley packs until recently.”
Something about the way he phrases that makes me glance around the room. There’s an undercurrent here I don’t understand, a level of scrutiny that goes beyond typical protective big brother behavior. Ash looks particularly pale, and Veva hasn’t moved a muscle.
The questioning continues for several more minutes as each pack leader takes their turn probing Bastian’s background and intentions. He handles it all with remarkable composure, answering every question with the right combination of honesty and diplomacy.
This isn’t how either of us expected this introduction to go.
“Tell us about your family,” Ash prompts. “Your parents, siblings, extended pack connections.”
“My parents passed away when I was ten,” Bastian replies, and I squeeze his hand in support. “A hunting accident. I was raised by my maternal uncle after that, until I was old enough to study independently.”
“No siblings?” Kira asks.
“I had a younger sister. She died in the same accident that took my parents.”
The sadness in his voice when he talks about his family always gets to me. It’s one of the things we bonded over during those first few weeks of knowing each other—both of us understanding what it’s like to lose people who matter.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Dorian tells him. “That must have been difficult.”
“It was. But it also taught me not to take relationships for granted. When I met Raegan, I knew I didn’t want to waste time pretending I didn’t care about her.”
The words should make me feel warm and cherished. Instead, something about the timing of them feels calculated, like he’s using his tragedy to deflect from the more pointed questions about his background.
“What are your intentions regarding my sister?” Oren asks bluntly.
“Marriage, obviously,” Bastian answers with a slight laugh. “I love her, and I want to build a life with her. I understand that our union could have diplomatic benefits for regional cooperation, but that’s secondary to my feelings for her.”
The right answer, delivered with just the right amount of sincerity. I watch my brother’s face, hoping to see some softening, but Oren’s scowl only gets harder.
“How convenient,” he mumbles.
“Oren,” I snap. “Not everything is about politics. Some people actually fall in love without consulting territory maps first.”
“Don’t be naive, Raegan. You’re the sister of an alpha leader. Everything you do has political implications, whether you like it or not.”
“Maybe so,” I concede, lifting my chin, “but I’m still allowed to choose whom I marry.”
“Are you?” Oren stands from his chair, and his full alpha presence suffocates the room. “Or did someone else make that choice for you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demand.
“As I’ve said,” Oren steps around the table to stalk closer, “six months seems like a very short courtship for such a momentous decision.”
“Some people know what they want,” I reply, though even as I say it, doubt creeps into my voice.
Aidan clears his throat. “Raegan, we’re not trying to attack your choices. But given recent circumstances, we have to be cautious about newcomers to the region.”
“What recent circumstances?”
“There have been some security concerns,” Kira explains. “Nothing that directly affects you, but it’s made everyone a bit more protective than usual.”
I want to push for more details, but something in her tone warns me off. The pack leadership clearly knows something they’re not sharing, and forcing the issue now would only make things more awkward. Plus, I doubt they would share anything of substance in front of a stranger.
“What do you really want?” This question comes from a corner of the room I’ve been trying to avoid looking at.
Wyn’s voice cuts through the debate, quiet but carrying more weight than all of Oren’s bluster. When I turn to look at him, those gray eyes are focused entirely on Bastian.
“Excuse me?” Bastian’s smile starts to fade, and he puffs up his chest.
“You heard me.” Wyn pushes away from the wall and moves closer to our group. “What do you want from her?”
“I want to marry her,” Bastian replies, but there’s a defensive edge to his voice now. “I’m not sure what you’re implying.”
“I’m not implying anything. I’m asking.” Wyn stops just a few feet away before he adds, “You show up at a university hundreds of miles from your home territory, happen to meet the sister of one of the most powerful alpha leaders in the region, and within six months, you’re engaged. That’s quite a coincidence.”
“Wyn, what are you saying?” I ask, but he doesn’t look at me. His attention remains fixed on Bastian, who’s gone very still beside me.
“I’m saying,” Wyn continues, “that your fiancé’s timing is interesting, given recent developments in the region.”
“What recent developments?” I ask as I throw my hands in the air and look around the room. Everyone seems to know something I don’t, and the exclusion stings.
“Nothing you need to worry about,” Oren says quickly, but his eyes never leave Bastian’s face.
“Don’t. Don’t treat me like a child who can’t handle adult information. If something is happening in my home, I have a right to know.”
The room falls silent again, and I watch a silent conversation pass between my brother and his advisors. Finally, Oren sighs and drags a hand through his hair.
“We’ve been tracking suspicious activity along our borders,” he admits. “Scouts from a local pack we’ve come to learn calls themselves Thornridge, conducting what appears to be reconnaissance.”
“What does that have to do with me?” But even as I ask, pieces start clicking together in my mind. The way everyone looked at Bastian when we walked in. The level of scrutiny he’s facing. The undercurrent of suspicion has nothing to do with typical family protectiveness.
They think he’s part of that pack.
“Probably nothing,” Dorian replies. “But the timing is noteworthy.”
Bastian clears his throat, drawing attention back to himself. “I understand your concerns, but I can assure you that my intentions toward Raegan are entirely honorable. I have no hidden agenda.”
“Then you won’t mind answering a few additional questions,” Wyn says, and something about his tone makes my skin crawl with unease.
“Of course not.” Bastian’s smile returns, though it doesn’t reach his eyes now. “Though I’m not sure what I could tell you about border activities. I’ve been focused on my studies.”
“Tell us about your pack,” Ash requests. “Their territory, their leadership structure, their main industries.”
Bastian launches into what sounds like a well-rehearsed presentation about agricultural and sustainable development. His answers are smooth and detailed, exactly what you’d expect from someone studying interpack relations.
But something about the performance feels wrong. It’s almost like he’s anticipated exactly which questions would be asked and prepared responses in advance.
I watch the faces around the table as he speaks. Dorian looks skeptical, Kira appears concerned, and Veva has that distant look that suggests she’s using her supernatural abilities to read the situation. Even Aidan, usually the most easygoing person in any room, seems on edge.
And Wyn…Wyn looks like he’s ready to shift into his wolf and launch himself across the room.
“Interesting,” he says when Bastian finishes. “And how long has your pack been interested in expanding their diplomatic relationships?”
“Several years now,” Bastian replies. “We believe regional cooperation is essential for long-term stability.”
“Regional cooperation,” Wyn repeats. “Or regional conquest?”
I gasp audibly. “Wyn, that’s enough.”
But for the first time since we walked into this room, he looks directly at me. Those gray eyes that once made me feel like I was the center of the universe now look at me like I’m a stranger.
There’s something in the way he’s staring that makes me feel…betrayed, though I can’t understand why. Not betrayed by Wyn—I gave up that right three years ago when he made his feelings clear—but betrayed by the man whose hand I’m holding, who’s suddenly feeling less familiar by the minute.
Which makes no sense whatsoever.
Bastian tugs on my hand. “Maybe we should go. Clearly, this isn’t the right time for introductions.”
But before anyone can respond, Wyn moves. One moment, he’s standing across the room, the next he’s at the door, blocking our exit.
“Actually, I think now is the perfect time.”
The standoff lasts maybe thirty seconds, but it feels like hours. Bastian and Wyn stare at each other across the space between us, and I feel like I’m caught in the middle of something much bigger than a family disagreement about my engagement.
Then my brother grunts, and Wyn steps aside at the silent order. “Welcome to Grayhide territory, Bastian Corvelli. I hope your stay is…educational.”
Without another word, he walks out of the room, leaving the door open behind him.
The silence that follows his departure is deafening. I stare at the empty doorway, trying to make sense of what just happened. Wyn’s reaction to my engagement, the suspicion in his voice, the way he looked at Bastian like he was sizing up an enemy.
I tell myself I don’t care about his opinion. I tell myself his reaction doesn’t matter, that I stopped caring what Wyn Lemay thought about my choices the night he rejected me in the garden.
But the familiar pang in my chest tells a different story.
I’m starting to think this homecoming is going to be much harder than I thought.