Page 38 of Traitor Wolf (Bonded by Fate Duet #1)

The woman frowned in confusion, and Elia, who had been standing off to the side, cleared her throat and stepped over to the makeshift platform where the wolfkin woman was reading our names from a long list.

“Life in Hildreth isn’t like the Dregs. You have one job you work, and only eight hours a day.

Then you go home to be with family or rest. We each get two days off a week, but it’s staggered so that the town doesn’t shut down for those days.

If you’re sick, you don’t come into work, and you won’t be fired.

If you’re over sixty- five, you don’t have to work, but you can if you want, part-time.

If you’re under sixteen, your job is to go to school full-time.

If you are pregnant, you are only expected to work part-time in your third trimester, and you get six months off from work once the child is born.

Everyone does the same number of hours, and we all share everything.

If there is an emergency, like last spring when the pumpkin field flooded, we ask for volunteers to help extra. ”

Silence descended over the crowd, and my people stared in shock at what Elia had just said.

Mrs. Bunson, a sweet widow in her seventies, burst into tears.

Her fingers were so crooked and gnarled that she could barely cover her face to hide her weeping.

Her daughter, Melody, held her, tears in her eyes as well.

I glanced at Fiona to see her rubbing her swollen belly and smiling.

Six months off from work after a child was born? My mother never had that.

One job. Eight hours a day. Two days off a week. It was a dream. It was unheard of.

The wolfkin woman cleared her throat, resuming the roll call.

“Greyseon Birks, firewood processing.” She said.

Greyseon was a large and strong man in his forties. He smiled at the assignment and hugged his wife. I listened as each one of my people was given jobs. Then, finally, my mother was called.

“Nursery helper.” The woman said, and my mother grinned.

“I wanted that one.” My mother beamed at me. “Can you believe I’ll get to hang out with the littles all day and call it work?”

I couldn’t help the tears that formed in my eyes, and I nodded, clearing my throat.

When the woman reached the end of the list, she thanked us all for our time and then told us to break for lunch before coming back for a building meeting. We were all supposed to be getting plots of land to build houses on.

“My name hasn’t been called,” I whispered to my mom.

She shrugged. “Forgot? Go ask.”

I stood, weaving through the crowd as they dispersed to go eat something that probably involved pumpkin.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” I approached the wolfkin woman as she was walking away. Her gaze went to the sword at my hip, and she stood a little taller. I probably didn’t need to wear it around anymore, but it was habit.

“I think you made a mistake. You didn’t call my name. Brynn Brighton?”

She stiffened, her eyes darting to Valkaryn. “There has been no mistake. You are not to be given a job. ”

The words stung. Shame burned my face. Kaelric didn’t trust me.

“What will I do all day? I want to work. To contribute.”

The woman looked stricken, glancing around as if for rescue. “I must report these assignments to the council. May I be dismissed?”

Dismissed? I nodded, her words ringing in my ears. You are not to be given a job. What did that mean?

Before I could dwell on it, Sable pulled me towards lunch. We sat at long wooden tables in the pumpkin fields. I ate a farmer’s salad of fresh vegetables, tossed in oil and vinegar, sprinkled with pumpkin seeds, and a thick slice of pumpkin bread. They even offered seconds.

Looking at the children’s faces, round with food and joy, tears filled my eyes again. Why did I still fear there would not be enough? Why did I wait for the rug to be pulled away?

“This place is heaven. I’ve decided that we all died in the fire and this is heaven,” Mira announced loudly, and laughter rose from our table and the two beside it.

Sable leaned sleepily against me. “Can we really stay here forever, Brynnie?”

I opened my mouth, unsure, my heart caught in the snare of truth and fear. Kaelric and I were on broken terms. Even if Elia said we were welcome, how could I be sure?

“Yes, you can.”

The deep voice came from behind me. Kaelric.

My heart froze. That voice, strong and steady, melted through me, leaving a painful ache in its wake.

“Thank you, sir,” my uncle said quickly, rising to shake his hand.

I kept my eyes on the table, too weak to face him. The sound of other voices rose as one after another came forward to thank him.

Kaelric walked past me, giving me only his back.

I stared at Valkaryn’s hilt, bitterness tightening my chest. This was her doing. She had convinced me, and I had listened.

Kaelric’s family had been slaughtered, his kingdom torn apart. I knew why she wanted to protect him, but her will had cost me everything. I had lost magic for my people. I had lost Kaelric.

All I could do now was watch his retreating back and feel the weight of the silence between us.

After lunch, we were called back to the open square where the council had gathered.

Sunlight gleamed on the stone pathways, and the air carried the scent of pine and cooking fires drifting from the nearby homes.

Families pressed close together, children whispering with excitement as names were read aloud.

Each family that stepped forward received a deed and map of their new land, a fresh sheet of parchment that represented roots in this new place.

It was explained that the land was a gift, granted freely with no taxes owed. We would build our own homes with guidance from the construction team in town, and whatever we created could be passed down to our children. All we needed to do was live honorably.

The rules of Hildreth were simple. No killing. No stealing. No selling secrets to the Ashmane pack. Disagreements were handled by the council, and only the most serious matters were brought before the Alpha.

I stood in the crowd, and the words washed over me like a half-remembered dream.

It felt unreal, as though the world had turned into a constant stream of blessings.

Gift after gift was laid before us until it began to feel like some endless Christmas morning.

And still, beneath the joy, I braced for something to go wrong.

Why couldn’t I simply enjoy this?

My mother seemed to sense my unease. As Fiona and her family walked up to receive their plot of land, she leaned close, her voice low and steady.

“It will take getting used to. When you’re not used to good things, they feel a little off.”

Her words stayed with me as another name was called.

“Brighton family.”

Relief surged through me so hard it made me dizzy. For one terrible moment, I had feared they would pass us over, that we would remain in the tents pitched in the fields. Even that would have been better than nothing, but the thought of being forgotten lingered like a shadow.

My mother stepped forward with calm dignity. The woman at the podium bent close and whispered something in my mother’s ear. I saw the way my mother’s eyes misted, the quick nod she gave, the way her lips trembled.

The woman handed my mother something, and my mother quickly placed it in her pocket.

When she returned, I leaned into her side, unable to contain my curiosity.

“What did she say?” I whispered.

My mother’s gaze softened. “She said we aren’t getting raw land. That an already built house has been readied for us.” Her voice cracked, and tears spilled freely down her cheeks.

A house? The word echoed in my mind. I glanced at the other families, wondering if any of them had been given such a gift. Perhaps there were a few vacant homes left behind, now offered to the largest families.

When we were dismissed, my mother guided us down the road, following the hand-drawn map she held tightly in her hands.

We passed the hardware store and turned left at the community park.

Children ran wild there, some barefoot and laughing in human form, others in wolf form, all fur and paws, darting and tumbling with boundless energy.

Their laughter and howls carried on the wind, causing us all to smile.

My mother slowed, checking the map again. Ahead of us loomed a thick cluster of trees. In their trunks, the path split, and one of the trees bore three carved numbers: 301. A narrow lane opened into the greenery.

“This is it, through here,” my mother said.

“Oh, I’m excited. Do you think it will have a fireplace?” Finn burst out, stick sword in hand, bouncing on his toes.

“What if it has more than two rooms?” Mira asked breathlessly.

“I hope it comes with a pet wolf,” Sable added with utter certainty.

My mother hushed them with a smile, and we stepped through the trees into a shaded lane. What stood beyond made me stop in my tracks.

The house loomed like something from a story.

Mansion was the better word. A massive log cabin rose high, its wooden walls golden in the sunlight, as if carved straight from the forest around it.

Two full stories stretched toward the sky, capped with a newly shingled roof.

The sheer size of it left me breathless.

“There must be a mistake,” I murmured as my mother walked to the porch.

She drew out a brass key with trembling fingers, slid it into the lock, and turned it. The door opened with a soft click, and she gasped at the same time I did.

Then chaos erupted. My siblings surged past us like a breaking wave, shrieking with joy, storming into the house as though they had been waiting all their lives for this moment.

“There’s a full kitchen like the Elites have!” Mira’s voice rang from within.

“One, no two, fireplaces!” Finn shouted.

“I count six bedrooms!” Tyrus cried, his words muffled as he ran down a hallway.

“Oh boy! A bathtub!” another voice squealed.