Chapter 5 Chapter 5: Breaking and Bonding

I don't sleep.

The cabin is clean—one room with a bed, a wood stove, and a tiny bathroom—but every sound outside has me jolting upright. Wolves moving through the compound, their footsteps too quiet, their presence too other. Through the single window, I watch shadows patrol past. They're not even trying to hide that they're watching me.

I count the patrols. Three different wolves, rotating every forty-five minutes. Professional. Military-precise. It should be comforting—they're protecting me, after all—but instead it just reinforces how foreign this world is. How much I don't belong.

The mate bond hums constantly in my chest, a golden thread connecting me to Hawk somewhere in the compound. I can feel him—awake, worried, wanting to come to me but holding back. Giving me space. The restraint costs him something; I can sense that much through our connection.

Around four a.m., my phone buzzes. Marcus—my human partner. Where are you? Getting worried.

I stare at the message. What do I say? Sorry, hanging out with werewolves, back tomorrow? Oh, by the way, I'm apparently mated to their alpha and everything I thought I knew about reality is a lie?

I turn off my phone instead. Add it to the growing pile of lies and omissions that have become my life in the past forty-eight hours.

The guilt tastes like copper on my tongue. Marcus doesn't deserve this. He's a good guy, a solid ranger, someone who's had my back on dangerous calls. But how do I explain this? How do I explain any of this without sounding completely insane?

An hour later, there's a knock at the door. Not Sage's authoritative pound, but something gentler.

"It's River," a female voice calls. "I have food. And questions. Mostly questions, if I'm honest."

Despite my exhaustion, I smile. "Come in."

The door opens to reveal a young woman, maybe mid-twenties, with warm brown skin and bright, curious eyes. Her hair is cut short, practical, and she moves with the same fluid grace as the other wolves—but there's something less threatening about her, something open and eager that reminds me of a puppy rather than a predator.

She's holding a tray with eggs, toast, and coffee that smells like heaven.

"So," she says, setting the tray down and sitting cross-legged on the floor like we're at a sleepover, "what's it like being human? Do you really not smell anything? How do you navigate without scent? And is it true you can't see in the dark at all?"

I laugh—actually laugh—for the first time since arriving. "You want to start with the philosophical questions, huh?"

"I've never met a human up close before. Well, except in town, but that doesn't count. You all smell scared and confused in town. Like prey trying to pretend you're not prey. But you—" She leans forward, inhaling deeply in a way that should be creepy but somehow isn't. "You smell like Hawk. Like pack. But also like rain and pine and something wild underneath. It's fascinating."

"That's... slightly invasive but oddly sweet?"

"That's werewolves." She grins, completely unapologetic. "We don't really do personal space the way humans do. Everything's about pack, about connection, about knowing where everyone is and how they're feeling. You'll get used to it. Or go insane. Fifty-fifty odds."

I eat while she peppers me with questions—most innocent, some surprisingly insightful. She wants to know about my job, my family, my German Shepherd ("You have a pet wolf? That's so weird! Is it like having a really distant cousin as a pet?"), my favorite foods, what human movies get wrong about nature. It feels bizarrely normal, like having coffee with a curious friend rather than being interrogated by a supernatural creature.

"Why are you being nice to me?" I finally ask. "Everyone else either wants me gone or wants to study me like a science experiment."

River's smile softens. "Because I remember what it's like to be new. I was born into a different pack—the Northern Ridge Pack, about two hundred miles from here. When I was eighteen, I fell in love with Thomas, who was visiting from here. Fated mates." She says it simply, like it's the most natural thing in the world. "I had to leave everything I knew—my family, my friends, my entire life to join this pack. It was terrifying."

"How long ago was that?"

"Six years. And it was the best decision I ever made. Thomas is—" Her whole face lights up. "He's everything. My other half. The pack became my family in ways my birth pack never was. But those first weeks?" She shakes her head. "I cried every night. Felt like an outsider. Questioned everything. The customs were different, the hierarchy was different, even the way they hunted was different. I thought I'd made a terrible mistake."

"What changed?"

"Time. And people who gave a damn. Sage, actually—she took me under her wing, taught me to fight, and helped me find my place. That's why I'm here now. When Hawk said his mate was human, I knew you'd need at least one friendly face. Someone who understands that choosing pack doesn't mean it's not scary as hell."

"Thank you," I say quietly. "I mean it."

"Don't thank me yet. Sage is going to work you until you puke today. She told me to bring you to the training clearing after breakfast. And Luna?" River's expression turns serious, the playfulness dropping away to reveal steel underneath. "Don't hold back with her. She respects strength, even when it comes wrapped in weakness. Show her you're not fragile, even if you are. Does that make sense?"

It doesn't, but I nod anyway.