Rhea’s POV

The rest of the week actually blurred by. I refused to talk to my friends. By Saturday morning, we were already on a flight.

No warning. No real goodbye. Just bags packed and Mom shuffling me onto a plane like it was some normal weekend getaway and not the start of a brand-new life I didn’t ask for.

The flight from Ontario to British Columbia was long, stiff, and awkward. I didn’t say much. She tried to fill the silence with weather talk and dumb snack options. I just nodded, earphones in, eyes glued to the clouds outside.

When we finally landed, a black SUV was already waiting at the curb for us. I knew it belonged to them. Everything about it screamed Ironclaw—matte finish, tinted windows, it was sleek but something about it felt intimidating. Typical Alpha energy.

We drove for over an hour through thick woods and winding roads until the trees opened up, and then I saw it.

The Ironclaw Pack house. No. Mansion. Manor I mean. Freaking werewolf palace.

It was built like an upgraded gothic fortress—stone and wood, multiple levels, wide balconies, massive archways. The windows stretched like cathedral glass, and the entire estate was surrounded by forest that looked endless.

“Wow,” I muttered before I could stop myself.

Mom smiled tightly. “Impressive, huh?”

I didn’t answer.

At the front steps stood Darius. It was ready to tell because of his posture and aura.

He looked tall, broad shoulders. He had a Military posture. His graying beard was trimmed close, his expression was unreadable. He didn’t exactly smile when we stepped out, but he didn’t scowl either.

“Vivian,” he called out softly, pulling Mom into a brief hug. “Rhea.”

I forced a polite nod. “Alpha.”

He blinked. “You don’t have to call me that.”

But I didn’t correct myself. He wasn't thinking I'll call him my dad, was he?

He offered to take the bags but Mom insisted the housekeeper would handle it. And sure enough, a woman appeared from the side door, dressed in black, hair pinned up tight.

“This way, miss,” she said to me.

I followed her up the steps, through the grand foyer—god, the ceiling had a freaking chandelier shaped like a crescent moon, and down a long hallway.

She opened a door at the far end. “This is your room.”

I stepped inside. It was… beautiful. Way too much, but beautiful. Soft gray walls, silver accents, a queen-size bed with sheets that looked untouched. A vanity. A small bookshelf. Even a private bathroom.

Still didn’t feel like mine.

The woman turned to leave but paused when she got to the door. “Dinner will be served at eight. You’re expected to wear a dress. Alpha’s orders.”

My eyes flicked to her. “Got it.”

This wasn’t a home. This was a damn show.

I unpacked slowly, dragging it out like maybe if I moved slow enough, the world would pause too. It didn’t. The hours ticked by, sunlight slipping across my windows until it dipped below the tree line and everything turned gold.

This room was too clean. Too perfect. I would have to do something about it. Nothing about it smelled like home.

At exactly 7:45, I stood in front of the full-length mirror in the corner, tugging the straps of my black dress back onto my shoulders. It was the only thing I could find that wasn’t wrinkled from the flight. Tight at the waist, soft at the hips, and cut a little lower than Mom would’ve liked.

This felt perfect for me. I wasn’t planning to impress anyone, but I didn’t want to look like I was trying to fit in, either.

Downstairs, the dining room was glowing. Dim lights, tall candles, and way too many forks. Darius stood at the head of the long, polished table like a statue.

My mum was already seated beside him, smiling tightly as I walked in. It was obvious she was finding it hard to settle in and was just putting up a show.

“You look beautiful, honey,” she said.

“Thanks mum,” I replied, my voice stiff.

Darius nodded toward the seat across from me. “Rhea, this is my son. Kieran.”

I turned.

And every ounce of blood in my body dropped.

It was him.

The guy from the party. The one I made out with behind Jay’s house. The one whose lips still haunted me. The one I almost had sex with.

He was standing right across from me.

In a tailored shirt, dark jeans, calm expression. His hair was damp like he’d just showered, curling slightly at the edges. His face? Still infuriatingly perfect.

“Kieran,” Darius said, “this is Vivian’s daughter. Rhea.”

Kieran held my gaze for a split second. It was cool, unreadable though, and then he nodded. “Nice to meet you.”

That was just it. No spark of recognition. No awkward smile. Not even a blink of discomfort.

I almost choked. Was he serious?

“You too,” I said slowly, dragging the words out. I almost didn't want to respond.

He slid into the chair across from me without another word. Not even a glance.

The table might as well have flipped upside down for how weird it felt. I shifted in my seat, my heart started pounding, trying not to let my hands shake as I picked up the wrong fork for the salad.

Kieran passed the breadbasket across the table with a casual, “Here.”

I took it like his fingers hadn’t been gripping my waist just a few nights ago. Like his mouth hadn’t been—Nope. Not going there.

Darius talked through dinner about pack politics, new patrol schedules, and some council members flying in next week. Vivian asked me if I liked the room. I mumbled something about it being nice. I was too occupied thinking about Kieran and that night.

Kieran? He said maybe three words the entire time.

He didn’t even look at me. But I could feel it. That connection. Like a magnetic attraction. I couldn't get it to stop no matter how hard I tried. Perhaps he was pretending.

But then, he was acting like we hadn’t touched. Like we hadn’t crossed almost every line.

And I had no idea why.

By the time dessert came, I could barely swallow. I excused myself early, claiming I was tired from the flight.

No one stopped me except Kieran.

When I stood up, he finally looked at me. Just for a moment. His eyes locked on mine and I can swear the air between us shifted.

Then he looked away.

“Goodnight,” he said flatly.

I nodded once. “Yeah. Night.”