8. Keal
KEAL
I stumble into the room, because I’m fed up with both Fen and Eliana walking around as if they’re lovesick teens. He doesn’t seem to realize the danger Eliana represents. Even if her scent and lack of markings suggest she’s unclaimed, she could still be part of a pack. This whole situation could be a trap, and every instinct within me screams to protect what’s ours.
The cabin is dim, warmed by the fading glow of a fire that crackles and pops in the hearth. I’ve been so uneasy since Eliana arrived. I catch sight of her sitting upright on the bed, a pen trembling in her thin fingers while her notepad lies open on her lap. I storm across the room, my impatience boiling over, and I can’t help but feel my protective instincts flare.
“Are you telling them our location?” I demand. “Did you wait until we were weak and debating about making you a part of our pack?”
Her eyes widen, filled with a mix of fear and confusion. I want to scream. I want her to understand that we can't afford to let our guard down, especially not now. She remains speechless, just staring at me. The way her mouth trembles pulls at something deep inside me—guilt? Concern?—but I push the feeling aside. She needs to hear this.
I flick through the blank pages of her notepad. She hasn’t written anything down. Whatever she intended to record, whatever plans or stories she had for us, they never made it to paper. My frustration morphs into something darker, something more urgent.
“So, if we did make you part of our pack, what can you do for us? Can you cook?” The question slips from my lips, sharp and demanding.
“No,” she replies, her voice barely more than a whisper as she avoids eye contact, her gaze slipping away like a frightened animal.
“Clean?” The edge of my tone sharpens; I’m desperate to find some tangible reason to keep her here, something to prove that she belongs.
“No,” she states again, a hint of disbelief lacing her tone.
“What about mend clothes?” I ask, knowing how pathetic it sounds.
Before she can answer, Fen bursts in, filling the room with a sudden wave of energy. “Shit, Kael! We don’t need a maid. We need an omega. What has gotten into you?” His voice cuts through the tension, distracting me from Eliana.
I glance at her, a flurry of emotions colliding in my chest. She flinches at my tone, curling into herself as if trying to shrink away from my accusations. The sight of her, vulnerable and frightened, stirs something I can’t quite name—regret, perhaps? Guilt? It catches in my throat, a lump I can’t swallow.
My protective instincts screech inside my head. I shouldn’t have let my frustration boil over like that. I’ve seen the way Fen looks at her, admiring yet protective, and even the playful energy of Rhys has shifted since she arrived. The dynamic of our little group feels fragile, and I’m only making it worse.
As I stand there, a whirlwind of emotions crashing through my mind, I finally stop to truly see Eliana. Her hair falls in soft waves around her shoulders, catching the flickering light from the fire as it frames her delicate face, accentuating the high cheekbones and gentle curve of her jaw.
A pang of awareness shoots through me as I process this newfound understanding of her. I can’t help but marvel at her beauty, which somehow shines through the tension. She’s far more than just an unclaimed omega; she’s a person with dreams, fears, and desires of her own.
“Kael?” Her voice breaks the silence again, pulling my attention. It’s soft, almost tentative, and I can’t help but feel that I owe her more than this hostility.
I take a step back, swallowing hard as I remind myself that I need to protect us all from the danger of being discovered. But right now, it feels like I’m the one putting her in danger—the one making her feel vulnerable and scared in a place where she should find safety.
“Look, Eliana, I didn’t mean—” But my words feel clumsy, inadequate, nothing more than an admission of my failure to communicate clearly. I turn away, frustration morphing into a heaviness that feels like a boulder resting in my chest. I need distance; I need air.
With my heart pounding in my ears, I replay my words in my mind. “Are you telling them our location?” What a way to welcome her into the pack. It was reckless. I knew better. She has already been through enough, and instead of offering her solace, I had reinforced her fears.
I can hear Fen’s voice drift from inside: “She’s not just some random woman, Kael! She’s an omega, and she’s scared. You need to stop treating her like an enemy.”
His words burst through my walls of defensiveness, tugging at the guilt in my core. An omega—Eliana—could bring so much more to our lives than just fear. She could be a part of the harmony we’ve struggled to maintain in our rogue existence.
I shake my head, clenching my fists by my sides. I don’t know what to do with this mix of feelings swirling within me, but I do know that she’s not the only one who needs to understand our situation. It’s not just about her; it’s about us and what we’ve built together. What we have fought for.
We’ve built a business so successful in these mountains that we attract exclusive clients from all over—people who come to learn how to ski or to host corporate events. This is Fen’s side of the business. He loves organizing games and facilitating bonding exercises. It’s as if I’ve been blind to the glue Fen provides in our pack. He keeps us together.
But now, with Eliana in the mix, I worry Fen might be the one to tear us apart.
I can’t deny the spark she ignites in my chest, a feeling I haven’t experienced in years. I want her to be part of our pack, but trust is hard-earned, and I can’t simply expect her to jump in without fear.
I can hear the sound of laughter and the faint scent of something baking in the oven. Rhys has probably made food to help ease the tension. Despite my earlier anger, the smell is a comfort, a reminder of what we’ve fought to preserve.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
All eyes turn towards me, and I can feel the weight of their scrutiny.
“What’s the plan then?” Fen asks, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly, his posture tense. “Are you going to keep treating her like she’s a threat, or will you let her in?”
I swallow hard, remembering Eliana’s face—how she trembled when I confronted her, how I’d seen fear etched in her features. I step closer, pushing through the emotional barricades I’ve built up.
“Let’s try this again,” I say, forcing my voice to remain steady. “We need to figure out how to make this work, together. I don’t want to treat her like an outsider. But I need her to understand what it means to be part of the Vale Pack. It’s not just about safety; it’s about trust and connection.”
Rhys nods. “I can talk to her. Maybe she just needs some time to adjust. We all do.” His words are warm, wrapped in the reassurance that he’s always been the glue holding us together.
Fen relaxes his stance slightly. “Good. I want you both to make her feel welcome. She needs to know that she has a place with us, however uncertain that may be.”
“Right.” I take a deep breath, composing my thoughts as freshly minted ideas take shape. “I’ll handle the food. We can gather for dinner and share stories. It might ease the tension and help her feel more integrated.”
Fen quips, “You just want to show off your cooking skills.”
“Shut up,” I reply, smirking despite myself. “If we’re going to make sure Eliana feels like part of the pack, we need to put our best foot forward. I’ll make something homey.”
I head toward the kitchen, feeling renewed hope sparking within me. The tension inside the room begins to ease, and the laughter that had been stifled returns, wrapping around me like a welcome embrace.
I start preparing a simple meal, with every chop of the knife, every stir of the pot, I’m more focused on how to integrate Eliana into our lives than on the fear I’ve carried since she arrived.
I can hear Fen and Rhys discussing Eliana, the lightness in their voices a contrast to the tension that had filled the room earlier. We may be a rogue pack on the fringes of society, but we have found a home with each other, and I realize that Eliana could be a part of that.
“Kael,” Fen calls out, breaking my concentration, “are you really going to cook her a five-course meal just to win her over?”
I smirk to myself, knowing how dangerously charming Rhys can be. “Not quite five courses, but I’ll make it fill the void. It’s about time we extend our hospitality.”
I incorporate some fresh herbs from our small indoor garden—my fingers dancing through the fragrant greenery and breathing in the lively scents. The act feels almost therapeutic, a soothing balm against the chaos our lives have created.
A bit of warmth for Eliana. A recognition that she holds value, that her life—and her choices—matter to us.
For the next while, I get lost in the preparation, letting the aromatics fill the room. I can hear Rhys move around, his charm on full display as he likely teases her gently, coaxing her from the shell of fear I constructed around her. The laughter carries, and I find myself stepping back into the moment, letting the lightheartedness of their voices soften the remaining edges of my protective instincts.
After a time, I set the food down on the shared wooden table, crafting a colorful spread that should reassure Eliana. With each dish that’s piled onto the table—rich stew, freshly baked bread, and roasted vegetables—I can already envision the scene: us gathered together, cracking jokes, sharing stories, weaving our lives together that little bit tighter.
I catch a glimpse of Eliana’s silhouette in the doorway, hesitating just outside the threshold, uncertainty gliding in her eyes as she observes the scene.
“Hey, Eliana!” Rhys calls, his voice light and inviting. “Dinner’s ready! Come join us. No formalities. Just good food and good company.”
She’s still lingering at the threshold, her fingers playing nervously with the hem of her shirt, but then—slowly—she steps into the warmth of the cabin. The moment she crosses that threshold, an almost palpable change shifts within the room. It's as if the very air around us thickens with promise and potential.
“Wow,” Eliana says softly, her voice carrying a hint of wonder as she takes in the spread laid out before her. “You really went all out.”
“Only the best for our guest,” I say, allowing a hint of warmth to creep into my tone as I step closer to her, inviting her further into our space. “Despite my earlier behavior, I genuinely hope you’ll feel welcome here. We’ve been through a lot together.”
She nods cautiously, her expression shifting as she looks over the food. I notice her eyes widen ever so slightly with appreciation—not just for the meal, but for an opportunity to connect. It’s a crack in the wall of uncertainty that she’s built around herself, and I can’t help but feel a surge of hope.
As the three of us gather around the table, I notice Fen’s warm, reassuring presence next to Eliana, providing her with a shield of comfort resembling a protective brother. Rhys is seated across from her, weaving his charm seamlessly into the conversation.
“Okay, Eliana,” he says, smiling brightly as he fills a bowl with stew and gently nudges it toward her. “You’ll have to tell me what you think of my cooking. I swear, if it’s awful, I will blame Kael for being the dictator of the kitchen.”
“I will take all the blame if it’s bad,” I chime in, feeling my earlier angst recede as the warmth of camaraderie surrounds us. “But I can assure you, Rhys baked earlier, and I didn’t cook everything. We are a team here, after all.”
Slowly, she breaks into a smile, and for the first time, I see the tensions of earlier melt away. This moment is transforming; it’s not just about dinner but about re-establishing a shared bond, reaffirming our commitment to each other as a pack.
In this shared space, the air is filled with laughter and stories, echoing around us like a warm blanket. We share snippets of our lives, encapsulating the struggles and triumphs we’ve faced. With every bite she takes, I feel Eliana’s apprehension fades away slowly.
“You know,” I say, as the conversation flows naturally, “Fen has a knack for hunting. He’s practically a ghost in the woods. If you need someone to show you around, he’s your guy.”
Fen shrugs, feigning nonchalance, but I can see the glimmer of pride in his eyes. “I might not be able to teach you how to be a ghost,” he replies to Eliana, his tone playful, “but I can show you the best spots for gathering herbs and what to look for in the wild. It might save your life one day.”
Eliana’s eyes widen, intrigue mixing with amusement as Fen talks. “That would be helpful,” she says, her voice growing stronger with each passing moment. “I’ve never been in an environment like this before. I’ve lived in urban areas my entire life.”
“Every skill is useful in our world,” I add, attempting to reinforce the idea that she is nothing less than an essential part of our dynamics. “Whether it’s cooking, hunting, or knowing how to navigate the complexities of pack politics, we all bring something unique to the table.”
Rhys intervenes, his joking demeanor still intact. “Well, cooking is just one. We have Kael here,” he grins, “a tactical genius with a heart that could rival any warrior. Fen is the silent protector. As for me...” he pauses dramatically, “I’m the eye candy in the group.”
I feel my heart flutter at the sight, the chill from earlier replaced by a warmth that wraps around me like a blanket. If we could keep this feeling, the bond between us could flourish into something strong and unbreakable.
“I will say,” I interject, watching her reaction closely, “it’s a little unsettling to have two handsome alphas hovering over you while you eat. I will ensure to fend them off once we start patrolling again.”
“I’ll protect you from their charms,” Fen promises, his smile warm, and something shifts in Eliana’s expression—she’s beginning to trust us.
Rhys shakes his head as if just realizing the gravity of the moment. “Okay, we need to make a pact right now. No one gets to flirt with our new omega while she eats. This is the real deal.” He raises his hand dramatically, drawing laughter from the rest of us. The atmosphere fills with camaraderie, and I begin to feel a gentle lightness in my chest, a burgeoning hope.
“Thank you,” Eliana whispers, her gaze flicking from one of us to another. The sincerity chokes me slightly. “Thank you for including me.”
“There’s no ‘need to thank us,’” I counter gently, allowing my voice to soften, hoping she feels the weight of acceptance hanging in the air around us. “This is your home now, too. We’ve all had to fight to be here; we’ll fight for you.”
Her tentative smile blooms wider as she takes in what I've said. I realize that there’s no need for me to be the strict enforcer of boundaries around her—this connection we’re forging is far more beneficial than I ever anticipated.
As the evening wears on, and the laughter and stories continue to unfold at the table, I feel the earlier tensions slip away like snowflakes melting in the warmth of a fire.
Eliana fits in more seamlessly than I would have imagined. Her laughter mingles with ours, and it becomes clear that each story, each joke, is quietly embedding her into the fabric of who we are as a pack. She begins to share stories from her own life as well, drawing us deeper into her past. We learn she was a writer, capturing the essence of romance in her novels, and though her journey has led her to us in this isolated place, she carries with her the richness of experiences.
I glimpse Fen throughout, his gaze softening as he watches her unravel stories of her world outside of the mountains— fascination sparkling in his eyes. That protective instinct in him is strong, and I suspect he’s already begun to mentally shift, to consider how she can belong to us.
After much laughter and several additional rounds of food, I finally lean back, the warmth settling comfortably in my stomach. I watch Eliana, her face illuminated by the warm glow of the fire, and the admiration I feel for her starts to bloom. I may have resisted her presence at first, feeling threatened by what it could mean for our pack and our safety. Yet here, amidst our shared laughter and moments of revelation, I begin to see the possibilities of what having her with us truly means —of what dismantling the barriers we’ve built could lead to.
I can’t help but feel that perhaps this is the beginning of something significant—not just for Eliana, but for all of us.
With the fire crackling softly beside us, Fen leans back in his chair, his characteristic stoicism mingling with a newfound warmth. “So, Eliana,” he starts, his tone gently piercing through the comfortable hum of chatter. “What drew you here, to the mountains? You must have had a life before this.”
I watch her, the way her eyes darts with uncertainty at the question. I can sense her hesitance, a shadow brimming beneath the surface. But then she takes a deep breath, nods as if gathering the strength to share, and slowly begins to unravel her story.
“My life wasn’t as great as you think it was,” she admits, her voice growing steadier with each word. “I was writing, yes, but I was also feeling lost. The publishing world is harsh, and I found myself spiraling deeper into the expectations—my spark faded, my creativity dwindling.”
As she speaks, I realize how much I want to support her, to give her the space she needs to truly belong with us. Looking across the table, I see that Fen and Rhys share the same realization. The shadows of her past glide behind her, illuminating the intensity of her vulnerability while revealing strength embedded within her spirit.
“Sometimes,” she continues, “I thought about the stories I wrote, the heroes and heroines who fought for their happiness. Yet I couldn’t see my own. When Rebecca suggested I come here, I thought maybe a change of scenery could inspire a fresh chapter.”
That catches my attention—Rebecca. Her best friend, the one who nudged her into our lives. I can’t help but wonder if the decision to come here was made with hesitance or hope. Did Eliana fully understand the risks? The dangers that came with living among us?
“And look where you are now,” Rhys interjects, his sly charm on full display. “You’re surrounded by rugged Alphas, trapped in a mountain cabin, risking life and limb! The adventure of a lifetime!” His playful tone lightens the mood further, coaxing a reluctant smile from her.
Eliana chuckles, a soft melody that draws me in. “You make it sound so exciting,” she replies, her eyes dancing with newfound light. “But honestly, I didn’t expect to feel this sense of safety, being here. It feels different.”
I wonder if she knows how profoundly they resonate with each of us. Safety. It's a concept we’ve been fighting to protect since our lives fell apart, and it feels surreal to see her begin to weave herself into that very fabric.
As the conversation drifts from one topic to another, the laughter and warmth wrap around us like a protective hug. Despite my earlier fears, I feel the walls I had built around my heart begin to crumble.
It is as if each moment brings us closer together. I begin to understand that perhaps Eliana is not just a potential hindrance; she might very well be the catalyst we need to heal, to evolve into more than what we have been. She could be the missing piece in our puzzle, allowing us to embrace the fullness of what it means to be a pack.
Later, as I stand to refill my mug, I catch a glimpse of Fen’s expression directed toward Eliana—his usual guarded demeanor replaced by something softer, more inviting. The connection they’ve forged shifts between them, a tangible spark of understanding that makes me realize I’m not the only one being woven into her narrative.
Rhys leans in closer to her, his sly grin ever-present, but there’s an underlying affection in his gaze that speaks volumes. “So, do you think you’ll stay? Maybe make a home here with us?”
I hold my breath as I await her answer, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on us. Eliana hesitates, glancing between Fen and me, her expression laden with the conflict of possibilities.
“I’d like that,” she finally says, a shy smile playing on her lips, but her eyes glisten with uncertainty. “But what if I can’t? What if I’m just a burden?”
“Hey,” I say firmly, my voice cutting through the doubt hanging around her like a fog. “You’re not a burden. We need each other; that’s what a pack is about. You bring something unique to our bond, and we’ll figure this out together. We’re not perfect, but we support each other. That’s what makes us strong.”
Eliana’s gaze softens, and I notice the tension in her shoulders ease slightly. I yearn to give her the reassurance she needs, to make her feel safe among us as she has begun to feel more like family.
As the night wears on, laughter and camaraderie fill the cabin, laughter mixing seamlessly with stories of our pasts and hopes for the future. With every word exchanged, I see Eliana transform before my eyes. The fear that had once clouded her features fades, replaced by an undeniable warmth that lights her up from within.
The wavering flame in the hearth mirrors the spark of joy beginning to grow in her chest. It’s incredible to witness; it feels like we are all breathing a little easier, sharing our burdens and lifting each other up. For the first time since she arrived, I begin to feel a glimmer of hope—a connection forming not just between us, but with Eliana as well.
Later, when the food is cleared and the fire has started to dwindle, we settle into a comfortable silence, content among each other. I glance at Eliana, who is now curled up more comfortably on the chair, legs tucked beneath her. She looks deep in thought, as if she’s weaving her own tapestry of memories in this unexpected refuge.
It dawns on me that this is just the beginning. There’s much to teach her about what it truly means to be part of our pack—the ups and downs, the laughter and struggles we face daily. I want her to not only understand our lives but to embrace them as her own. She could bring our group not only balance but joy, connecting the fragmented pieces of our hearts that we’ve been hesitant to address.
I can sense a profound shift among us. I lean back in my chair, feeling a sense of satisfaction wash over me as I observe the bonds forming, igniting.
Every moment spent together brings us closer, and as the dark blankets the cabin, I know that tomorrow holds promise—the promise of a life where we can all find belonging in the mountains, where Eliana can become part of our story, and I realize that Fen could be right, maybe fate did Eliana here. Maybe she is just what we need, not just during the snowstorm, but forever.