The sky had barely settled into dusk when Lena stood in front of the mirror, fixing the neckline of her dress for the fourth time.
It wasn't supposed to be anything special. Just a small welcome dinner, Ethan had said. A way for some of his new colleagues—and their partners—to meet her. And for her to stop feeling like such an outsider in a town that felt like it didn't want her.
It was also Ethan's birthday.
He'd almost forgotten about it, in all the chaos of their move. But Lena had remembered. She'd gotten him a simple silver watch, engraved with the words "Still in time — L". It didn't feel like enough. Nothing seemed enough lately.
"You ready?" Ethan's voice called from downstairs, light and easy. Like he wasn't worried about this town or the strange energy that seemed to cling to its people. Like he didn't notice the way Lena's smile had become smaller each day.
"Coming!" she called back.
She took one more breath, then headed down.
The house was warm and filled with softly lit lanterns. Ethan stood by the dining table, wearing a neatly pressed shirt, sleeves rolled, hands tucked in his pockets like a man who had everything figured out. When he saw her, he smiled.
"You look beautiful," he said quietly.
She clung to that warmth—like a match in a cold room.
Guests started arriving just before seven. Two couples from Ethan's office. The town's doctor and his wife. Someone's cousin who had moved back after college. They all seemed polite, but Lena could feel the shift. Like they were trying not to stare at her too long.
She kept trying to ignore it.
Then someone unexpected walked in.
Killian Hayes.
Ethan blinked. "Alpha Hayes—I didn't know you were coming."
"Marcus said there was an open invitation," Killian answered, his voice steady and deep. He scanned the room, but Lena wasn't sure if he took in any of it. His gaze found her — and stayed.
Lena felt the air compress.
Her heartbeat started acting like it had its own agenda—louder, faster. She didn't know why. She didn't even know him. But she… felt him.
Killian inclined his head, something like a greeting.
Her voice barely cooperated. "Hi. I'm Lena."
He didn't shake her hand.
Killian was still. Quiet. But beneath the silence was something feral and tightly leashed. His eyes — dark until the light hit them — carried something heavy. Recognition? Confusion? Hunger?
She looked away too quickly.
"Killian," he replied simply.
Ethan laughed a little, trying to ease the tension. "Didn't expect to see the Alpha at such a small thing."
"It's your birthday," Killian said. "A welcome is customary."
That was a lie. And nearly everyone knew it.
The pack didn't show up for worlds that didn't concern them.
But Killian wasn't here for Ethan.
Lena felt it. The room felt different with him in it—dense, charged. As if every breath now carried a ripple of something she couldn't define. And the rest of the guests—almost all wolves, she now realized—sensed something too.
They tried to act natural, but the energy simmered.
Marcus arrived shortly after, and his gaze flicked between Killian and Lena several times. He kept his distance, but she could feel his watchfulness like a second presence.
Dinner was served. Plates clinked. Glasses lifted. Conversations hovered somewhere between small talk and weight. Lena laughed lightly at one of Ethan's jokes, but her attention kept drifting—to Killian, seated across the table, silent, intense, and stunningly still.
He didn't eat much. He barely moved. The only time he seemed alive was when her scent drifted near. His fingers pressed against the table. His throat shifted with what might've been a held breath—or a struggle.
Then it happened.
Lena reached across to grab a serving bowl, brushed something aside, and the watch she'd gifted Ethan slid from his wrist—landing against Killian's plate with a soft metallic tap.
It wasn't loud. But the way Killian reacted—it might as well have been a gunshot.
His head snapped up. His pupils dilated.
His wolf surged.
The room fell deathly silent.
Killian inhaled sharply, gaze locked on the silver watch. Then… very slowly, he picked it up.
Lena saw the tremor in his hand. Something like grief, or fury, or disbelief rippled across his features—almost too quick to register, but there.
"Sorry," Lena said, faltering. "It slipped off—"
"Did you give this to him?" Killian asked.
The table stilled.
Lena blinked. "Yes, I—"
Killian stood up, suddenly.
His wolf—his dead, dormant wolf—was clawing against the surface. In front of the pack. In front of her. It was lunacy.
His voice was a raw murmur.
"I need to leave."
Marcus rose too, instantly stepping between Killian and the rest of the table. "It's time," he murmured, knowing better than to let the Alpha linger another minute.
The rest of the pack almost didn't breathe as Killian stormed toward the door — but he stopped.
Stopped, and looked over his shoulder.
At her.
At Lena.
Their eyes locked — hers confused and soft, his a storm.
He didn't speak.
But something in the room shifted — like everyone felt a thread twist tighter between two people who shouldn't be connected.
Killian left.
Marcus followed him out.
Whispers immediately ignited.
"What was that?"
"Did you see his eyes?"
"He reacted to her."
"Human. Human. Oh God—"
Lena stared down at the table.
Ethan touched her arm. "You okay?"
She nodded... but she was lying.
The truth was — she didn't know what she was feeling.
She only knew this:
The man who'd just left the room hadn't looked at her like a stranger.
He'd looked at her like someone who'd known her once.
Loved her once.
Lost her once.