Chapter 2
CADE
Istare at my open office door, annoyed that Elias has convinced me not to shut it. At least until I’ve “softened the pack” to me.
Though my annoyance isn’t because I don’t want to be available to them. It’s in moments like this when I need to be here, but my heart wants to be back at the cabin with Rowan. Our run this morning reminded me of how little time we’ve been spending together.
She’s been too patient with me, and that makes me lose patience with the pack’s unwillingness to give me another chance.
Still, I try.
It isn’t some noble, heroic gesture. It’s not even strategic. It’s simple. Solara is my home. This is their house, the pack house. If I’m going to sit behind a desk and pretend I deserve to lead them again, the least I can do is keep myself accessible.
Besides, if anyone wanted to kill me, a closed door wouldn’t stop them.
The office sits downstairs, situated beneath the stairs of the main floor, where the foot traffic is steady, but the noise has become more of a constant, and now familiar, hum. The occasional laugh, boots crossing wood, the distant sound of conversations people refuse to have direct with me.
Yet, it’s also too quiet.
When I was young, I remember pups running through the house, the smell of food being served all day long, the camaraderie of the pack just being together.
All of that is missing now and I’ve yet to figure out how to get it back. Mostly because more often than not, I’m ready to rip my hair out.
That’s partly because of the bond, my wolf reminds me. You need her.
Gods, don’t I know it.
But I won’t rush into the bite. Not after I turned her down the first time. I told her I wanted it to mean something more than just a task we were checking off a list.
Now, I don’t want her to think of me as a beast who can’t control his urges.
With a low growl, I stare at the stack of reports Elias dropped off earlier and wonder when the hell paperwork started multiplying like rabbits.
It wasn’t like this before.
I know it wasn’t, because I can still see Elias’s face when he carried the first armful in, and it wasn’t the neutral, steady expression he wears most often. There was something else underneath it.
Tightness. Unease.
Like he wanted to say, you’re going to hate this, but didn’t think it was his place.
Regardless, it’s my responsibility.
The first page is a maintenance report.
A crack in the library’s south wall.
I read it twice, then a third time, because surely, I missed the part where said crack is more than a two-inch imperfection that is far from affecting any kind of structural integrity and that maybe two people a year will notice.
I didn’t.
I set it aside and pick up the next one.
Well water pressure insufficient.
I frown, remembering the shower I took this morning. It seemed fine.
The report includes a quote: “We shouldn’t have to live like this.”
I exhale through my nose.
Fine. I jot down a note. Ask Mason to check the pump. Ask someone—anyone—to confirm we haven’t offended the water spirits.
The next complaint is about the training yard being “too muddy.” Followed by one about it being “too dry.” Followed by another that suggests the new fence posts are “crooked on principle.”
I rub a hand over my face.
They’re punishing me.
Not overtly. Not with a challenge at my throat or an open refusal to follow orders. Solara wolves don’t work that way. Not the old ones. Not the ones who believe loyalty is a choice you earn, not a title you inherit.
No, this is subtler.
This is death by a thousand inconveniences.
This is the pack’s way of saying, You left. Now you can pay for it. In full.
My jaw flexes as I flip through another report—territory boundary disputes, hunting schedules, supply requests, and more grievances that have nothing to do with survival and everything to do with resentment.
A soft knock sounds from the doorway.
I glance up, neck stiff from the hour or so I’ve spent hunched over these papers.
Elias leans against the frame like he’s been standing there a while, and he’s debating whether he should enter at all.
I motion him in. “If you’re here to tell me the moon is too bright, you can put it on the pile.”
His mouth twitches. That’s as close to a smile as Elias gets when he’s officially on duty.
“It’s not the moon,” he says, stepping inside. “Though someone did mention the owls are too loud.”
I stare at him.
He shrugs, like that’s a completely normal sentence to say to his alpha. “I told them to close their windows.”
I huff a laugh—short and humorless—and lean back in my chair. “What’s it going to take to win them over?”
Elias doesn’t answer immediately, and that pause tells me more than his words.
“This might be the wrong choice, but you need to tell me if I’m fighting a losing battle,” I add. “Don’t let me prolong the torture for any of us. If I need to step down officially this time, I will.”
The pack would suffer for that decision, I feel it in my gut, but I’ve considered it might be the best option for the people I hurt when I left without making sure that they were properly taken care of.
I can’t assume time and effort will equal forgiveness here.
“It’s not just you,” Elias says, calm as ever. “It’s what you represent. What your return forces people to remember.”
That lands like a fist between my ribs.
Because he’s right and I was already thinking the same thing.
My return doesn’t just bring a true alpha back into their lives. It drags up everything they’ve tried to bury—the years I was gone, the instability, the resentment, the truth that their alpha seat could be abandoned and the world wouldn’t care.
Because I wasn’t the only one who hurt them. The wolf council should have stepped in to replace me, but instead, Solara was left weakened.
I glance down at the papers again and feel something dark and sharp twist in my chest.
What the hell am I going to do?
My wolf brushes against my mind and he doesn’t need to speak for me to know what he’s thinking.
Rowan.
She ran with me this morning. Not because I asked or because she was trying to prove something. She simply stepped outside, met my gaze, and joined me when I shifted. Like it was the most natural thing in the world to trust me with her back.
Even now, hours later, I can still feel her beside me. The rhythm of her paws in the dirt, the way her presence settled my wolf instead of riling him. The way she moved—confident and cautious all at once, like she was learning Solara’s terrain the way she’s learning her place here.
And I can still feel the pull between us.
It’s stronger than it was two weeks ago. Stronger than it has any right to be without completing the bond.
Without the bite.
Rowan is perfect in every way that matters—fierce, steady, and stubborn as hell. But that doesn’t mean she’s ready for that. Not when she’s still waking up with grief in her throat and rage under her skin. Not when the world is waiting for her to turn into a weapon.
Yet, even with all that I know she has on her plate, I need her.
I need her support and presence.
The pack has made her feel as though she’s to blame for some of their grievances, so I’ve understood why she’s hidden away, but I’m not sure I can let that go any longer.
I don’t have the patience for it.
“You should take a break,” Elias says, dragging me back.
I look up. He’s still watching me, a crease deepening between his brows.
“I should,” I say, then gesture vaguely at the stack. “But this tells me I can’t.”
Elias frowns and shakes his head. “If I’d known… I thought it would be better.”
We both did.
Before I can decide my next move, voices drift down the hallway outside my office. Not directed at me, but not quiet enough to pretend they don’t want me to hear, either.
“I’m telling you, he’s got time to go on a run with her, but he hasn’t called for a full pack run once.”
“That’s because he’s not here for us.”
“It’s just like the others said,” a male continues, “He left, and now he’s only back because of her. Because he got a mate dropped in his lap and suddenly Solara matters again, so that they can have a place to hide out.”
“Must be nice,” another deep voice mutters. “To vanish for years and come back expecting everyone to bow.”
My wolf lifts his head inside me, hackles rising.
Elias’s gaze flicks toward the doorway, then back to me. “It’s Jerome, Fiona, and Paul. Ignore them.”
Yeah, that’s not happening. Not today.
I set my pen down slowly and stand.
The voices don’t stop.
If anything, they grow bolder as my footsteps approach.
“…and she’s brought a vampire, and that crazy Hollowborn who doesn’t speak, onto our lands. It’s like she thinks she owns—”
I step into the hallway.
I didn’t recognize the names when Elias spoke them, but I know the faces. Ones old enough to remember what it was like before I left, young enough to still be bitter that the world didn’t punish me while I was gone.
They fall silent when they see me, and yet…
None of them looks ashamed.
That might be the part that pisses me off the most.
I want to rage, I want to slam Jerome and Paul into the nearest wall, leaving imprints of their bodies in the wood panel. I want to see the fear in their eyes as I do.
Instead, I keep my tone even. “If you have concerns, you’re welcome to bring them to me directly.”
Fiona’s chin lifts. “We were on our way.”
I nod once. “Then talk.”
The taller one with a scar along his jaw—Jerome, I believe—crosses his arms. “You’ve been here two weeks, and things are only worse. You’ve brought strangers who don’t belong into our territory.”
My jaw tightens. “I’ve been handling everything the pack needs as it’s been brought to me. I have a whole stack of completed requests I’d be happy to show you.”
He scoffs. “Paperwork isn’t leadership.”
“No,” I agree. “It isn’t. But that seems to be all anyone is allowing me to do.”
Paul steps forward. “You could have called for a pack run.”
“I’ve been addressing the immediate needs—”
“And running with your mate,” he cuts in.