CHAPTER 57: WELCOME TO THE MIDNIGHT PACK...

The next morning arrived with the kind of soft, golden sunlight Emerald had always liked: gentle, warm, and deceivingly peaceful.

Too bad her nerves didn’t match the weather.

She stood in front of her wardrobe, a suitcase already half-filled next to her. She had packed neutral clothes and simple boots, with some weapons hidden in the folds of her garments. Nothing about her packing suggested she was packing for a getaway with one of her mates.

Nothing... until Nessa showed up.

"I brought coffee!" Nessa sang as she burst in, only to freeze at the sight of Emerald’s half-packed bag. "You can’t be serious. You’re not packing like that."

"Like what?" Emerald asked, arching a brow.

Nessa tossed the drink onto the desk and strode to the bed, flinging open a smaller drawer in the wardrobe. She started pulling out soft silks and lace, as if conducting a lingerie parade. "Like a mercenary. You’re going to Lucien’s. Not a rogue hideout."

"I’m going for clarity, not seduction."

"Clarity, sure. But no one said you can’t look like a goddess while figuring it out." Nessa held up a burgundy lace piece. "This one practically screams, ’I might still walk away, but you’ll never forget I was here.’"

Emerald snatched it from her hands and shoved it under a sweater. "That’s enough."

"You never know," Nessa smirked. "Anything could happen. Alpha Lucien is tall, broody, emotionally constipated... your weakness."

"I do not have a type."

Viola snorted in her head. "You absolutely do."

"Out," Emerald said, trying to shove her toward the door.

"Fine, fine! I’ll go get us food." Nessa winked as she ducked out. "Try not to melt under all that stoic tension while I’m gone."

Emerald rolled her eyes, but the quiet that followed left her... reflective.

Her gaze shifted back to the suitcase, to the hint of lace poking out beneath wool. "Am I really doing this?"

She had never wanted her identity as an Alpha to be overshadowed by her mates. She was supposed to be leading, forging her own legacy. And yet here she was, packing for a week-long rotation like her heart was some kind of tournament prize.

Still... part of her was curious. About Lucien. About all of them. But especially about...

Emerald paused as she felt the air around them change.

A sudden breeze whipped through the room, freezing her to her bones. Emerald spun around, and standing on her balcony like a shadow carved from dusk and fire was Ares.

He stood with his arms crossed, his black coat gently moving in the breeze. The sky outside was clear, but somehow, his presence filled the room with a tense, stormy feeling.

"Really?" she said flatly. "You need to learn to use a door."

He didn’t smile; he just stepped forward, his boots making no sound on the stone floor. "You need to stop testing my patience."

His gaze drifted to the bed and landed on a lingerie Nessa had so graciously flung across it.

Emerald moved to grab it, but he was faster.

Ares picked up the crimson piece between two fingers, and his expression darkened. "Will you be putting this on for Lucien?"

"No."

He didn’t speak for a beat. Then, still holding the lace in one hand, he reached out with the other, grabbed her by the waist, and pulled her flush against him.

Her breath caught.

"I told you," he murmured, his voice dropping to a growl as he leaned close to her neck, "I’d kill any man that touches you."

"And I told you," she said, struggling to sound unaffected, "you’ll have to make peace with the fact that I have other mates, and wait your turn."

His grip tightened just enough to make her breath hitch. "I don’t wait," he growled. "I take."

Emerald looked him dead in the eyes. "That’s not my problem. You either wait, or not at all."

Ares stared at her like she was some impossible puzzle, like he couldn’t decide whether to kiss her or tear the room apart.

"You’re doing this for me," he said suddenly.

"What?"

"This little tour of yours." His voice was low and rough. "It wasn’t about the other. You’re trying to figure me out. You want to understand me."

"I’m not doing this for you."

"You are."

She shoved him back a step, flushed and furious. "You’re insufferable."

He let out a slow breath, gaze simmering. "Watch what happens between you and Lucien, Emerald. If he touches you... It won’t end well for him."

"You don’t get to make threats about my life."

He turned, walking toward the balcony again.

"I’m not going to let you scare me," she said loudly. "You don’t control me, Ares. I’ll do whatever I please."

He paused in the doorway, half-shadowed by light. "You don’t know me."

She stepped toward him. "You’re right. I don’t. But I will. I’ll get past that hard shell of yours. I’ll find the real you."

He didn’t reply at first; he didn’t move.

Then, without a word, he stepped over the railing and dropped out of sight as Nessa returned with a tray containing two plates of steaming food. "Something wrong?"

"Nope," Emerald said quickly. "Let’s eat."

—

A few hours later, the car arrived.

The journey was quiet and long, the roads winding and lined with bare winter trees. When they reached Lucien’s territory, the difference was immediate.

Everything about the place was old-fashioned and steeped in tradition. The Midnight Fang pack house looked like a manor carved from Gothic stone, covered in ivy and decorated with gargoyles, giving off a Victorian-era vibe.

Lucien, dressed in a black coat over a turtleneck, was waiting for her by the stairs, flanked by two guards. He looked like a painting brought to life.

"You made it," he said with a smile. "Welcome to the Eastern Midnight Pack. Glad you’re here."

"Well, you only accused me of playing favourites a couple of times," she replied dryly. "Didn’t have much of a choice."

Lucien chuckled. "Fair enough."

He offered his arm, and she took it. "Come inside, you must be very tired."

He gestured, and a pair of maids stepped forward to carry her bags.

"The maids will show you to your room. We’ll have dinner in an hour. I thought it’d be best if we started off slow."

"Appreciated."

The inside of the estate was even more impressive than the outside. Warm gold light bathed the dark wood halls, and every corner smelled faintly of leather, tea, and some kind of herb she couldn’t name.

Emerald’s room was tucked into a high turret. It was spacious and clean, with deep maroon curtains, old beddings, polished floors, fire already lit in the hearth and a small balcony overlooking the cliffs below.

It smelled faintly of cedar and something unmistakably Lucien.

She unpacked slowly, trying to adjust to the silence.

This was happening.

The start of the first week.

She dressed quickly for dinner, a sleek black dress with long sleeves and a silver pendant at her throat.

As she stepped into the hallway, the soft murmur of voices caught her attention. She slowed her pace, following the sound.

Two men and a woman stood just around the bend in the corridor, speaking in hushed tones. She couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but inside, something itched, and she couldn’t help but ask herself, "What have I gotten myself into?"