Chapter 43
Forty-Four
LISA POV
I stood outside my bedroom door at five forty-five in the morning, already dressed in running gear, seriously considering backing out of the pack run Franklin had invited me to. It had seemed like a good idea yesterday, something to fill my days with besides waiting for Cameron.
Now the reality had arrived.
I was about to go running with Lycans.
I touched the pendant at my throat, the one Franklin had given me. Proof I belonged here, at least technically.
What’s the worst that could happen?
Before I could talk myself out of it, I grabbed my water bottle and headed downstairs.
The gathering point was at the eastern edge of the estate where the manicured grounds faded into forest. I heard voices before I saw the group, laughter and easy conversation carrying through the morning air.
Around thirty wolves had already gathered, stretching and chatting in small groups. Most wore athletic clothes like mine. A few wore casual shirts and shorts.
All of them were Lycans.
I stopped near the tree line, suddenly aware of the difference between us. Very Lycan. Very werewolf.
Franklin spotted me and jogged over, a grin spreading across his face.
“You came. I wasn’t sure you would p>
“Neither was I p>
“Come on,” he said. “We’re starting p>
He led me toward the group. A few people glanced my way, but most were focused on their own conversations. No hostility. No whispers I could hear.
Maybe this would be okay.
A tall, muscular woman stepped forward and raised her voice. “Alright, everyone. Standard route today. Twelve kilometers, human form. Stay with the group. If you need to drop out, tell someone. Let’s move p>
Just like that, we started running.
And it was fun.
I had forgotten what it felt like to run with others. The steady rhythm of feet on packed earth, the smell of damp leaves and morning dew, the collective scent of wolves moving together.
We were slower in human form than we would be shifted, but still fast. The trail wound through trees, over narrow streams, up hills that made my lungs burn.
I kept pace.
For the first time in weeks, my mind went quiet. No thoughts about Cameron. No anxiety about pregnancy. No shame about the arrangement.
1/4
Forty Fout
+15 Bghus
Just breathing. Moving. Letting my body work.
We completed four laps of a three-kilometer loop before the lead runner called for a break. The group slowed to a walk and drifted into a clearing ringed by enormous oak trees.
Beyond the trees stood several buildings that blended into the landscape. Warm light glowed in the windows. Children’s voices carried across the clearing.
“What is that?” I asked Franklin.
“The communal living area,” he said. “Some pack members live there instead of private dens. Easier for single wolves or families who prefer company. That building on the left is the nursery p>
The nursery.
I started walking toward it before realizing what I was doing.
Behind me the clearing filled with wolves finishing their run. Some dropped onto the grass. Others stretched or reached for water bottles.
In the center of the activity stood Cameron.
People surrounded him. An older man gesturing about something urgent. A young woman holding papers. Two security officers delivering a report.
I had never seen him like this.
Not the man who came to my room at nine o’clock. Not the quiet figure at dinner.
This was the Alpha.
He listened carefully to the older man, and when he spoke the others leaned closer. When he smiled at something someone said, tension eased across the group.
He was good at this.
Watching him handle their concerns, watching the way people trusted him, made something shift in my chest. I finally understood the weight he carried. The responsibility that shaped every decision he made.
Including using me.
I looked away before he noticed me staring.
The communal area was larger than I expected. The main buildings housed shared kitchens, dining spaces, and recreation rooms. Wolves of all ages moved through the space. Elders played cards at a table. Teenagers clustered around a gaming console. Young adults cooked together in an open kitchen.
It felt like a real community instead of a rigid hierarchy.
But my attention kept drifting back to the nursery.
It stood slightly apart from the other buildings, with wide windows and a fenced play area filled with climbing structures, swings, and scattered toys.
“You can go look,” Franklin said beside me. “They don’t bite. Usually p>
“I don’t want to intrude p>
“You won’t. It’s open to the pack p>
2/4
Toty four
+15 Bonus
So I walked over.
The gate creaked softly as I pushed it open and stepped inside the play area. Three children played near the swings. They glanced at me briefly before returning to their game.
The nursery door stood open. Inside I saw a bright room with padded floor mats, shelves packed with toys, and low tables sized for children.
Life filled the space. Loud, messy, joyful life.
An older woman emerged from a side room carrying art supplies. She smiled warmly.
“Hello, dear. Are you here for the morning shift p>
“I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I was just looking. I didn’t mean to intrude p>
“You’re not intruding at all.” She set the supplies down. “I’m Dorothy. I run the nursery. Are you new to the pack p>
“Sort of. I’m staying at the Alpha house p>
Her brows lifted slightly. “Oh? Are you related to Lady Evangeline p>
“No p>
I left it at that. Dorothy studied me for a moment, curious but polite enough not to ask more.
“Well, you’re welcome here anytime,” she said. “We can always use extra help p>
“I’d like to volunteer,” I said before I could second-guess myself. “If that’s allowed p>
Dorothy’s face brightened. “That would be wonderful. We’re always short-staffed. Especially afternoons when the older pups return from lessons. Can you start today p>
“Today p>
“If you’re free p>
“I am p>
Dorothy introduced me to the other caregivers, then to the children.
There were about twenty of them, ranging from infants barely able to crawl to nine-year-olds already learning shift control. Many lived here full time, Dorothy explained, though parents could take them home whenever they wished.
“We teach everything,” she said while showing me the daily schedule. “Math, reading, science, language arts. Pack law and history. Shifting control for older pups. Hunting basics. By ten they transition to the Academy p>
The organization impressed me.
And the children were incredible.
Six-year-old Tommy proudly showed me a drawing of what he insisted was a dragon but looked like a lumpy dog.
Eight-year-old Mira asked for help with her reading.
Three-year-old Benji attached himself to my leg and refused to let go.
3/4
+15 Bonus
I helped serve lunch, which turned into a chaotic battle involving spilled juice and arguments over seats. I read picture books during quiet time and pushed children on swings during outdoor play.
Somewhere in the middle of it all I met Cora.
She had warrn brown skin and an easy laugh that made even cranky toddlers smile. She had worked at the nursery for three years and loved every minute.
“You’re good at this,” she said while watching me help Mira with a difficult word. “The kids like you p>
“I like them p>
And I meant it.
For the first time since arriving at Silver Creek, I felt useful. Not as a womb. Not as a body.
As a person.
I stayed until late afternoon, far longer than I planned. Dorothy eventually reminded me that I should probably head back for dinner.
Walking across the estate grounds, I felt lighter than I had in weeks.
Maybe I could build something here. Something small, something temporary, but something that felt like a life instead of waiting.
That feeling lasted until I reached the main house.
Workers filled the hall, climbing ladders and hanging garlands of lights. Others arranged furniture while a team polished the enormous chandelier overhead.
Everything gleamed in gold and white.
This wasn’t a party.
It was an event.
The kind where appearances mattered. Where every detail would be judged.
The kind of place I did not belong.
I stood near the wall watching the preparations and felt the earlier optimism drain away.
At least I had the nursery now. At least I had something that made me feel like more than-
“Lisa p>
I turned.
Cameron stood halfway down the staircase with one hand on the railing, his eyes locked on me.
P
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Cedella
Cedella is a passionate storyteller known for her bold romantic and spicy novels that keep readers hooked from the very first chapter. With a flair for crafting emotionally intense plots and unforgettable characters, she blends love, desire, and drama into every story she writes. Cedella’s storytelling style is immersive and addictive—perfect for fans of heated romances and heart-pounding twists.