I didn't hit the ground.
Instead—I hit muscle. Lots of it.
One second I was plummeting toward certain death, the next… strong arms caught me. Hard chest. Warm breath. A heartbeat, steady and solid against my ear.
Kaen.
For a moment, time stuttered. My fingers gripped his bare shoulders out of pure survival instinct—but once I realized what had happened, my grip didn't immediately let go. I looked up.
He was holding me effortlessly, like I weighed nothing, his face unreadable in the golden morning light. Damn it. He looked even more stupidly handsome in the sun.
My own heartbeat was galloping like a caffeinated horse. And not just because I almost died. I think.
Behind him, footsteps thundered down the stairs. A blur of leather and platinum hair stormed into view.
"She again?" Selene snapped, her eyes flaring with disbelief. "Are you kidding me, Kaen?!
I froze. Oh no. Oh no no no. I had to stop giving this woman reasons to kill me.
"I didn't mean to cause problems," I blurted. "I just fell. Literally. From gravity. Not emotionally. I mean—I wasn't spying, I just…"
Kaen turned to face her, still holding me. "Selene."
Again. It wasn't loud. But something in his tone made her jaw snap shut.
I felt the tension like a live wire between them. Selene's hands curled into fists at her sides. Her eyes never left mine.
Oh god.
I squirmed slightly, trying to get Kaen to put me down.
"I can go," I offered weakly, "if you two need… space. For, you know, dramatic declarations or passionate rooftop duels,or whatever you want."
Kaen's eyes flicked down to me.
And then—he kissed me.
I made a sound like a startled goldfish. His mouth was warm, firm, and suddenly there, claiming mine like it was the most natural thing in the world.
My brain blanked. My toes curled. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a tiny, traitorous part of me screamed, this is happening, this is HAPPENING—
Then he pulled away.
Abruptly. Coldly.
And let me go.
I yelped as I dropped unceremoniously to the floor.
Ow.
I looked up, dazed, lips still tingling, to find Selene… gone.
Vanished like smoke? ?
"What—" I started.
Kaen didn't look at me. His voice was a low growl, all gravel and warning.
"They're here. If you want to stay alive—start shutting up. Now."
And then he walked away.
I sat there, stunned, mouth slightly open, still catching up.
They? Who were they?
Before I could even formulate a theory, the front door creaked open.
Kaen was already there, standing tall in the center of the living room like he'd never been anything but in control. He glanced over his shoulder at me.
A clear, sharp message: Move.
I scrambled to my feet and followed.
In the living room, the air felt heavier. The morning light didn't reach here as easily. Kaen sat in the middle of the long couch. I was made to sit right beside him.
Three figures entered.
First—a man in his sixties, maybe older, with hair the color of frost and a face so gentle he looked like the kind of grandpa who always remembered to bring candy for the neighbor's kid.
He stood straight-backed, with a stillness that didn't quite match his age. His movements were slow but fluid, like a very polite and elegant serpent.
His clothes didn't shout money—they whispered it.
Perfect tailoring, hand-finished lapels, and a coat that looked like it cost more than my entire kitchen.
Kim works at a high-end boutique and made me visit a few times under the excuse of "educating your peasant eyes." Apparently, my eyes learned.
And yeah. Tweed. Actual tweed. In summer.
Of course. That kind of confidence didn't sweat.
Beside him, Selene. (Again.) Her eyes were still locked on me, burning. Her jaw worked like she was chewing nails.
And on the other side, a boy—no, a young man. Barely twenty, with a mop of dark hair and the bright, eager energy of a golden retriever on his first field trip.
"Hmm," the old man said, surveying me like I was a particularly confusing crossword clue. "Not one of ours, is she?"
Kaen said nothing, but a flicker of tension crossed his face.
The old man chuckled. "But cute. Very cute." He turned to Kaen, gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Congratulations, then."
I blinked. What?
Selene looked like she'd swallowed a lemon whole. The puppy-boy looked like he was dying to ask a thousand questions.
"No need to rush anything," Magnus added lightly, already turning to go. "We'll talk again. Soon."
Selene lingered, glancing between Kaen and me with a look that could curdle milk.
The young guy gave me an actual wave—a wave!—before Kaen shut the door in his face.
For a moment, the silence inside the house was heavy enough to press on the walls.
Kaen stayed still, hand on the doorknob, head slightly bowed.
When he finally turned around, the tension in his shoulders broke just a little—barely noticeable, but real.
He let out a quiet breath, as if a weight had been set down.
Through the closed door came the deep, composed voice of the old man.
"Kaen," Magnus said, calm but firm, every word carrying the authority of decades.
"You've done well to stand your ground. But remember—leadership isn't about strength alone. It's about restraint."
There was a pause, softer, almost human.
"Don't forget your father's courage… or your mother's heart. The pack still believes in you."
Kaen's throat worked.
"Thank you, Magnus," he said, voice rougher than before. "I'll explain later."
"You don't owe me explanations," Magnus replied, and for a heartbeat his tone gentled, like a father speaking to a grown son he still worries about.
"Just don't waste what they died to protect."
Then the sound of retreating footsteps. Silence returned.
Kaen stood there, motionless for a long second, before exhaling quietly—just once.
When he lifted his head again, his expression had reset: calm, composed, unreadable.
The armor was back on.
I exhaled, shoulders sagging.
I exhaled, shoulders sagging.
"You owe me explanations," I said, voice sharper than I intended. "What was that back there? What do you want from me? Who even are these people?"
I stopped. My throat felt dry.
"And you—who the hell are you?"
Kaen's gaze cut to me, sharp enough to slice the air between us.
"You want to stay?" His voice was low again, dangerously calm. "Then stay. Cook. Clean. Don't ask questions."
"Excuse me?" I snapped, arms crossing. "I'm not your maid. Or your… hostage housekeeper or whatever this is."
He didn't answer. Just turned and walked to the front door.
With a click, he pulled it open.
The silence behind him said it all. Door's open. No one's stopping you.
I stood there, glaring at his back. Then I looked past him—out the door.
Morning light spilled across the porch. Beyond that, the world. The winding road that led back toward the city. The gentle rise of the hills, the edge of the old town folding into clusters of newer buildings. Trees everywhere. Beautiful, wild, and far too far from anywhere I could actually go.
No phone. No job. No house. No money.
I had nothing but a bag of broken dreams and a man with more secrets than shirts.
"So," I closed the door, turned back with a thin, determined smile, "pancakes. Yes, no, or should I just guess your royal preference?"
End of Chapter 4.