15. Adrian
Chapter Fifteen
Adrian
Ishould have known better. As I dice the cilantro, I can’t stop thinking the words. I should have known better.
Why the hell didn't I change when I got home? Why was I still wearing that damn suit? I'm a guy who likes power and control, and the suit amplifies all of that even more. When I walked to the front door, I didn't expect her reaction.
The suit is tailored to perfection—charcoal gray with a subtle sheen, cut to emphasize the breadth of my shoulders and the lean, muscular build I maintain with obsessive discipline.
My shirt is crisp white, the tie a deep navy that matches my eyes.
Everything about me is controlled, polished, intentional.
I've spent years cultivating this image: the successful businessman, the Alpha who commands rooms without raising his voice.
My dark black hair is styled back from my face with precision, not a strand out of place.
My jawline is sharp, my features angular and severe—the kind of face that looks better in a boardroom than anywhere else.
The suit jacket sits perfectly across my chest, the fabric moving with me like a second skin, and my posture is ramrod straight, shoulders back, spine aligned.
I don't slouch. I don't relax. Control is written into every line of my body.
When I walked to the front door, I didn't expect her reaction.
But I should have known better. Whatever it was about me—my presence, my intensity, the authority I carried without thinking about it—had put her on edge.
I probably looked like everything she wanted to run from.
All that power, all that intensity, all that carefully constructed authority wrapped up in an expensive suit.
And judging by the way she'd reacted to me, that was the last thing she wanted anywhere near her.
I just wanted to meet the girl who had three-fourths of my pack interested.
I set the knife down with careful precision, aligning it with the edge of the cutting board before reaching for the lime. Across the kitchen, Jonas leans against the counter, watching me in that quiet, knowing way he has.
"She's settling down," Jonas says.
I nod. "Good." It comes out clipped, but Jonas didn't comment.
I glance at Lachlan, who's standing near the back door.
His attention is on the patio where Kaia sits with Finn.
We can hear Finn's voice faintly through the sliding door. He’s being intentionally light and steady, not his usual chaotic self.
Keeping her there.
Keeping her breathing.
I exhale slowly. "I should have announced myself."
Lachlan keeps his eyes fixed on Kaia and Finn. "You didn't know she'd react that way."
My jaw tightens. "I walked in without warning. I could have been more careful."
That matters more.
Jonas tilts his head slightly. "You adjusted."
"I reacted. Too late," I correct him.
Jonas doesn’t argue.
I reach for the tortillas and set them on the cutting board in neat stacks. "I won't make that mistake again."
Lachlan glances back at me with the expression. That steady, approving expression. Jonas just nods.
By the time Kaia steps back inside, the house has shifted subtly.
Jonas has dimmed the overhead lights. Lachlan has opened all the windows, letting the ocean air drift through the house.
The curtains billow lightly in the breeze.
And I've turned on some low, soft music to play in the background. Nothing sharp or overwhelming.
When she enters the kitchen, it’s an effort not to look at her immediately.
I want to give her space and time to reorient, and hopefully stay.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch her hesitate just inside the doorway.
Judging by the looseness in her shoulders, she isn’t freezing or panicking, just taking it in.
Finn comes in first. "Jonas, did you burn the tortillas again?"
Jonas mutters, "That was one freaking time."
Kaia smiles, and my shoulders drop a fraction.
"Dinner's ready." I turn toward her carefully—no sudden movements. Her gaze meets mine, and I note the caution in her eyes. Caution, not fear.
Not like before.
"Thank you," she says and I nod. No one’s made a big deal about the panic or asked if she’s okay. We just moved forward.
I hand her a plate, and Lachlan shifts slightly to give her space at the counter.
"Follow me! I'll show you the perfect way to assemble a taco," Finn says.
I hand him a plate as he continues, "You have to respect the structure of the shell.
" Kaia watches him fill his taco and reach for a tortilla. I can’t help but smile at the two of them.
Finn narrates each of his actions like he's on a live cooking show, and I see Kaia's shoulders loosen, just a bit more.
When Finn’s done, Kaia builds her taco with the same careful precision I use. Every movement—from spooning chicken into the tortilla to squeezing fresh lime—is extremely measured and controlled.
Seems like we have more in common than we think.
Lachlan and Jonas assemble their tacos after them, and I follow.
Plates in hand, we move to the table. Kaia ends up between Finn and Jonas, with Lachlan across from her.
I take the seat beside Lachlan, across from Finn.
The conversation stays light and easy, with Finn carrying most of it, of course.
He starts stories that go absolutely nowhere, with tangents that never fully loop back. But it doesn't matter.
Because Kaia is eating, smiling, and nodding along like she’s following the chaos.
And Jonas grounds the conversation when it gets too personal, steering them gently back toward safer subjects whenever Kaia goes quiet or her shoulders tighten.
Lachlan only speaks when he needs to. And I just watch and listen.
I watch every time Kaia's shoulders tighten or loosen.
I watch every time her gaze flits toward the door.
I watch every time she relaxes again. I watch my pack, too.
How Lachlan's attention stays on her. How Jonas tracks her emotional shifts. And watching how Finn lights up whenever she speaks, I can see he’s already all in.
When my gaze moves from Finn back to Kaia, I smile. She's laughing, quietly but fully. Her guard isn't fully down, but at least it's not suffocating her anymore. Something in my chest shifts. It's not instinct or possession or control…It’s something quieter. More deliberate.
Across the table, Kaia glances up and catches me looking.
Her expression flickers with uncertainty, but I hold her gaze, softening my eyes.
Something in my expression must have reassured her because her shoulders ease, just a fraction.
She looks away and reaches for her drink, but she doesn't pull back.
I exhale slowly, some of my tension releasing.
Later, when the plates are empty and the conversation has settled on the best ice cream flavors, I lean back in my chair and let the moment be.
I take a deep breath and let her, and us, exist without pressure or expectation.
Around me, my pack feels right. Complete in a way that wasn't there before.
We weren't broken, but we were missing something.
Until now.
My gaze drifts back to Kaia one more time. She's listening to Finn go on and on about his favorite ice cream, a small smile still lingering on her face. Her posture is no longer rigid, like she's going to flee at any moment. She's present. Here with us.
The feeling in my chest tightens slightly.
Not uncomfortable, just real. No need to name it or make it into something more than it is.
Not yet. But the truth is here, quiet but certain.
We all feel it. She isn’t just someone passing through on vacation.
She isn’t a coincidence. She is the missing piece.