The pack dining hall was loud, but my corner was always quiet. I sat alone with my tray, pushing my food around. Across the room, Leo sat by himself. He was eating in silence. He didn't look like a low-ranking transfer wolf. He took up space just by breathing.
Then, Eden made her move.
I watched her glide over to his table. She deployed her usual routine. She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. She dropped her shoulders to look smaller. She tilted her chin up, exposing her neck just a fraction. It was a perfect picture of fragile vulnerability. It was the exact look that had hooked Sylas and Rory for years.
"Hi, Leo," she said softly. Her voice carried just enough for the nearby tables to hear. "I know you're new. It can be so overwhelming here. I'd love to show you around the territory."
She offered him a sweet, trembling smile.
Leo didn't stop eating right away. He took his time. He set his fork down and looked up at her. His face was completely blank. He didn't lean in. He didn't soften his eyes to comfort her.
"Thank you. But I have a map," Leo said. His voice was perfectly polite. And completely impenetrable.
Eden’s smile faltered for a second. She tried again. She let out a soft, breathy sigh. "It's just... it can be really lonely when you don't know anyone. I just want to help."
"I prefer the quiet," Leo replied smoothly. He picked up his fork again. He dismissed her without a single rude word.
Eden stood there. For a split second, her mask slipped. Her eyes went hard and flat. Then she spun around and walked away. She was unsettled. I could see the gears turning in her head, already calculating a new angle. I took a bite of my apple, hiding a small smile. Her tricks didn't work on him.
During our fourth training session, the wind picked up outside. Leo's cabin was filled with the usual warm lantern light. I sat on the rug, eyes closed, breathing in the scent of dark honey and thunderstorm. It wrapped around me like a heavy blanket. My wolf was right at the edge of my mind. She was curious. She was almost ready to step forward out of the dark.
Then, a cold draft slipped through the window cracks. A lantern near the door flickered. For two seconds, the corner of the room plunged into deep shadow.
My inner wolf recoiled instantly. It felt like a heavy iron door slamming shut inside my chest. She curled into a tight, terrified ball, hiding from the dark. I gasped and my eyes flew open. My heart hammered wildly against my ribs.
Leo was already looking at the dead lantern. He didn't ask what happened. He didn't ask why I was suddenly shaking. He just stood up, struck a match, and calmly relit the wick.
The next night, I pushed his cabin door open and stopped. There were two brand-new lanterns sitting on the floor near the door. The room was blindingly bright. Not a single shadow remained in the corners.
Leo was on the sofa, reading. He didn't mention the new lights. I walked in and sat down. The silence between us felt different tonight. It wasn't a tactical silence anymore. It felt personal. It felt safe.
"I used to hate the dark," I said quietly.
I froze. I didn't mean to say that out loud. I never gave away pieces of myself. Not anymore.
Leo didn't look up from his book. He just turned a page.
"The dark is only bad when you can't control when the light comes back on," he murmured.
I stared at him. He understood. He actually understood the root of the trauma without me having to bleed it out for him. I uncurled my fists. I let myself breathe.
The next afternoon, I was walking across the training yard. Scout trotted happily beside my boots.
Sylas walked past us. He looked hollow. His golden aura was completely gone. The rejected mate scar on his neck was an angry, rotting red. As he stepped closer, Scout stopped. The tiny pup planted his paws and let out a vicious, terrified snarl.
Sylas flinched. Several warriors stopped their drills and stared. Sylas looked embarrassed, his jaw clenching tight, but he kept his head down and hurried away.
Two days later, the pack gathered for an autumn bonfire. I stood near the edge of the firelight. Scout was sitting on my feet.
Eden spotted us. She also spotted a group of high-ranking warriors standing nearby. It was the perfect audience. She walked over, putting on her sweetest face.
"Oh, what a cute little thing," she cooed. She crouched down and reached a hand toward Scout. She wanted to look like the gentle, loving Omega.
Scout didn't just cower. He bared his tiny needle teeth and snapped viciously at her fingers.
Eden jerks her hand back with a sharp gasp.
"Oh!" she laughed. It was high and breathy. "Poor little thing, so frightened of everything! He must have been abused by the rogues."
She smiled, but her laugh was too loud. It sounded forced. I saw two warriors exchange a weird look. They weren't buying it. Animals didn't lie.
I watched Eden hurry away, her cheeks flushed. I pressed my thumbnail into my palm. The sharp sting grounded me. I looked down at Scout. The pup wagged his tail and leaned against my leg.
For four years, Eden made me think I was the problem. She made the whole pack think I was crazy. But I wasn't crazy. The dog knew the truth.
And looking around at the questioning faces in the crowd, I knew something else. Soon, everyone else would know it too.
