Page 14 of The Pack

CHAPTER 14

T obias McDonagh

The morning broke soft and quiet, the sky streaked with pale pinks and golds. I sat on a flat stone near the edge of the clearing, sharpening my knife—a habit as much as a necessity.

Zara moved near the fire, her dark hair falling over her shoulders in loose waves, the morning light catching on the subtle curves of her face. She had an energy about her, a quiet resilience that made it hard to look away.

Damn it, I wasn’t supposed to feel this way.

She reminded me of someone. Someone I hadn’t allowed myself to think about in a very long time.

Two hundred years ago, during the Collapse, there had been someone else, someone I had loved fiercely, desperately, in a world that was crumbling around us. She had been my anchor, my light, and when the ferals took her from me, it had taken something of me, too.

I’d built walls after that. High, unyielding walls meant to protect me from feeling that kind of loss again. I’d buried her memory in the darkest corners of my mind, letting it harden into something cold and untouchable.

But Zara… Zara was starting to break through those walls.

It wasn’t just her fierce independence or her sharp tongue, though those things had a way of catching me off guard. It was the little things. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was thinking. The quiet determination in her movements, even when she was afraid. The fire in her eyes that burned just as brightly as those of the one I’d lost.

I hated it, yet I couldn’t stop watching her.

“Morning.”

Zara’s voice broke through my thoughts, and I looked up to find her standing in front of me, a tentative smile on her lips.

“Morning,” I replied gruffly.

She hesitated, her hands clasping in front of her. “You’re always sharpening that thing,” she said, nodding toward the blade in my hand.

“It keeps me focused,” I said simply.

Her smile widened slightly, and she tilted her head, studying me. “You know, you don’t always have to be so intense.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Intense is how we stay alive.”

“Maybe,” she said, her expression softening. “But it’s not the only way.”

Something about her words stayed with me as the pack prepared to set out for the day. Magnus was issuing orders while he scanned the horizon like he could see every obstacle ahead. Callum was packing supplies with his usual cheer, and Killian was cracking jokes loud enough for the whole camp to hear. Thorne was lost in his thoughts, likely thinking about last night around the campfire…

My focus kept drifting back to Zara.

She was different. She wasn’t part of this world, not really. And yet, she was here, fitting herself into the spaces of our pack like she’d always been meant to be.

I didn’t know what to make of it.

For the first time in two hundred years, I felt something shift. The weight I’d been carrying—of grief, of failure, of loss—felt just a little bit lighter, and I knew it had everything to do with her.

Zara adjusted the cloak I’d given her, pulling it tighter around her shoulders as the morning chill lingered in the air. The fabric, worn and patched in places, seemed too large for her small frame, but she made it work.

She glanced at me, her deep, dark blue eyes catching the light as she moved closer.

“Thanks again for this,” she said, her voice quieter now. “It’s warmer than I thought it would be when I first saw it.”

I grunted, my usual response, and returned my attention to the blade in my hand. She didn’t leave. Instead, she settled down beside me, her movements careful but deliberate, like she was testing her place.

“Do you always grunt like that?” she asked, her tone carrying a hint of teasing.

I arched an eyebrow at her but didn’t respond.

She smirked, leaning forward slightly. “It’s very mysterious, you know. All the grunting and brooding. I bet it drives people crazy.”

“Does it drive you crazy?” I asked, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

Her cheeks flushed faintly, and she shrugged, her eyes drifting to the fire.

“Maybe a little,” she admitted softly.

For a moment, we sat in silence, the fire crackling next to us, then she broke it with a question I didn’t expect.

“What was it like?”

I frowned, glancing at her. “What was what like?”

“Before,” she said, gesturing vaguely. “Before the Collapse. Before everything went to hell.”

I stiffened, the memories flashing through my mind like a film reel. “It was… very different.”

She turned to me, her eyes curious. “Different how?”

I hesitated, unsure how to explain a world she’d never known. “It was cleaner,” I said finally. “Orderly. There were cities, roads, cars… people. They didn’t live in fear like they do now. They went to jobs, to school. They worried about things that seem… small now.”

Her brow furrowed. “Small? Like what?”

“Like whether their coffee order was right,” I said dryly. “Or if their favorite show was going to get canceled.”

She blinked, her lips curving into a faint smile. “That sounds… oddly enough, nice.”

“It was,” I admitted, my voice softening. “But it wasn’t perfect. People fought over stupid things, held grudges over even smaller ones. The Collapse didn’t just destroy the world we built—it exposed what was already broken.”

She was quiet for a moment, her expression distant. “I can’t imagine it,” she said finally.

Her curiosity was strangely compelling. The way she leaned in, her eyes wide with questions, made me want to tell her more, even when I didn’t want to revisit those old memories.

“You’d have liked it,” I said before I could stop myself. “It was a good place for people like you. People who are curious. People who see the world and want to understand it.”

She looked at me. “That sounds like a compliment, Tobias,” she said, her tone light, but edged with warmth.

“Don’t get used to it,” I muttered, returning to my knife.

She laughed, and the sound settled something inside me I hadn’t realized was restless.

For the first time in years, I let myself hope that maybe, just maybe the world could be something more than it was. More than simply surviving. More than endless fights, bloodshed, and nights spent wondering if we’d see the next sunrise.

I wanted something beautiful . Something worth fighting for beyond just the next battle. I wanted warmth, laughter, the kind of life that didn’t revolve around loss and survival alone.

And for the first time, I saw the possibility of that—not in the ruins of the world around us, but in her. In the way she looked at us like we weren’t just wolves and warriors, but men. In the way she challenged us, softened us, made us want more.

More than just living.

More… with her by our side.

Magnus’s sharp voice broke through my wayward thoughts.

“Time to get moving,” he said.

I glanced up to see him standing near the fire and watched him for a moment as he scanned the camp as the others finished packing up. Zara stiffened slightly beside me, her gaze darting to him before returning to her hands, which she twisted nervously in her lap.

“Come on,” I said, rising to my feet and sliding the knife into its sheath. “We’ve got a long day ahead.”

She followed me without a word, pulling the cloak tighter around her shoulders as the morning chill lingered. She seemed nervous, and I wondered what was bothering her. Was she thinking about her brother? Or was she just worried about another day heading out into the unknown?

I stepped closer to her, feeling protective. I’d stay closer to her today just in case she needed someone to talk to, but I wouldn’t push her. I wanted her to come to me.

As my mate.

The pack fell into step as we moved out of the clearing, Magnus leading the way as always.

“So,” Killian drawled, his Irish lilt thick with amusement. “Anyone else lose sleep last night thinking about Zara and her… discipline session with Thorne?”

Callum let out a low laugh, his gray eyes sparkling. “Careful, Killian. You keep pushing, and she might turn her sights on you next.”

“Wouldn’t mind it,” Killian replied, shooting Zara a wink.

She turned bright red. “Oh, my God,” she muttered, covering her face with her hands.

“Leave her alone,” Thorne growled from the back of the group, his icy blue eyes narrowing. “You’re just jealous.”

Magnus glanced back, his silver eyes flashing with faint amusement. “Can we focus on the task at hand?”

“You mean walking?” Killian shot back. “Because we’re already doing that.”

“Killian,” Magnus warned.

“Fine, fine,” Killian said, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “No more talk about Zara’s… lessons and how fucking hot it was to see her bare ass turn bright red under Thorne’s hand and how delightful her moans were when?—”

Zara cut him off with a surprising smile. “You know, that’s what good boys get, and Thorne was a very good boy. You should try it sometime, Killian,” she said, her tone teasing, though her cheeks were still pink.

The words hung in the air for a beat, and I felt the atmosphere shift.

Magnus stopped mid-stride as he glanced over his shoulder, his expression filled with amusement. Callum choked back a laugh, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck, and even Killian’s ever-present grin faltered for a moment.

Thorne muttered something under his breath as he turned away, and I found myself feeling… flustered.

Zara’s laugh was soft, but genuine, and despite myself, I felt a flicker of warmth spread through my chest.

She was more dangerous than she realized.