Navy's Sons: Bullied by Quadruplet Stepbrothers novel Chapter 11

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Tabitha’s POV

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I wake up to the scent of something warm and savory. When

I look at the bedside table, I find a tray with a plateful of

toast, eggs, bacon, pancake, and a glass of orange juice.

The pancake still looks piping hot and the butter on top has barely melted.

Huh, who brought breakfast to my room?

I glance at the door and realize, with a pinch of embarrassment, that I forgot to lock it last night. Okay, I seriously need to work on that. Still, the breakfast tray is kind of a sweet gesture, especially since I can barely put weight on my sprained ankle.

I stare at the plate, wondering who might’ve left it here. My thoughts drift to the Aldair brothers. I remember their eerie calmness from last night, the way they just accepted the fact that we are mated. But I shake the thought away. No. It couldn’t have been them. This kind of thoughtful gesture doesn’t fit them. Most likely, it was my mom who left this breakfast. Yay, thanks Mom!

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I pull the tray onto my lap and start eating. The eggs are fluffy and creamy. The bacon is also crisp, and the pancake melts in my mouth with just the right hint of maple and

butter. I must’ve been more exhausted than I thought,

because by the look of the clock on my wall, it’s already close

to noon.

Well, at least I feel well–rested. I need that. Especially after all the fiasco from yesterday.

After finishing brunch, I nudge the tray aside and ease myself out of bed. My ankle protests with a sharp throb, but I grit my teeth and limp my way to the bathroom to wash up. It takes me a while to finish, but I manage. I refuse to hole up in this room all day just because of one injury.

By the time I make it downstairs, the estate is already in full motion again. The staff rushes in and out of rooms, voices echo from the far hall, and the scent of fresh coffee drifts through the air. It almost feels like we’re preparing for another party. The engagement party was yesterday, so why does it still look so busy here?

I catch sight of my mother walking toward the foyer with a clipboard in her hand. She spots me and walks over.

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“Oh, good. You’re up. How’s the ankle, sweetie?” she asks, giving me a quick once–over before her eyes flick to the foot I’m clearly favoring.

“It still hurts, but I’m managing,” I say. “What’s going on? The place looks busy again.”

“We’re expecting a few visitors today,” she replies.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Emery said representatives from the Stormblood pack and the Deathclaw pack will be arriving soon. They’re having a meeting here about the rogue situation. You know, regarding the ones your stepbrothers caught yesterday.”

Of course, how can I forget?

“Why are the other packs getting involved?” I ask, glancing around the busy staffs who are walking in and out of the estate at the last–minute attempt to whip the estate into shape for the incoming guests.

“From what I heard, the attack yesterday wasn’t an isolated case. Rogue sightings have been happening across the island. Since the Crystal Ridge pack, Stormblood pack, and 3/8

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Deathclaw pack are the ones keeping order among the werewolves here, it looks like all three need to be part of the

conversation. I guess the rogue situation is more serious than anyone thought.” She flips a page on her clipboard and sighs.

I nod, remembering what the brothers said yesterday. How the only way to end this was to hunt down and kill every last rogue on the island.

I wonder if the other packs feel the same. Not that it matters what I think. I’m barely even a part of this pack.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” I ask.

“Oh, don’t worry about any of this. Just rest your ankle.”

“I’m fine,” I lie. “I can help. Besides, I’ll just get bored if I don’t do anything.”

“Alright…” Mom narrows her eyes at me for a second, like she’s not entirely convinced. “If you insist, head downstairs and tell the staff to start removing the party banners and floral centerpieces from the dining room. The formal arrangements are supposed to be in the storage room by the cellar. Make sure they bring those out and replace everything before the guests arrive.”

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I head down the stairs, careful not to favor my right leg too obviously. The foyer is crowded. Lots of werewolves pack

members, human servants and staffs. I inform them about

mom’s instructions and they immediately begin to remove the ornaments from yesterday’s party and replace them with more formal decorations. I help with them as much as

my sprained ankle would allow. Meanwhile, I see my mom talking to the estate private chef while keenly checking something off her clipboard. She’s born for this–to manage her own damn castle, and she’s killing it.

My eyes set at the far end of the hall where I spot the

brothers along with the other Crystal Ridge pack executives.

They all look busy, like they are all locked in a serious

conversation but the moment I step into view, their heads

turn to my direction. Evren barely glances at me, but I

see the way his eyes flicker before he looks away. Luca

keeps talking to someone, but his body shifts slightly in my direction. Reed doesn’t bother pretending. He shamelessly stares until I break eye contact. And Jace, he gives me the

smallest smirk before turning back to whatever conversation

he’s in.

I walk past them without saying a word. I pretend not to notice. But I feel it. Their eyes, tracking my every move.

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Just ignore them.

That’s exactly what I do. I keep myself busy with the other staff because I’ll go crazy if I don’t do something or anything. One of the maids points me toward the second dining room, where they’re having trouble with the table arrangement. I step in and help.

The table here is longer, grander, and framed by tall windows draped in deep blue velvet. One of the staff members tells me this room is usually reserved for formal dinners or important meetings, like the one happening today.

I spend the next hour adjusting placements, straightening the table runner, making sure the formal china is lined up evenly across every seat. At least here, I can move. And I guess all those hours spent waitressing and serving lattes are finally paying off.

A few hours later, Tom, the estate’s head butler, clears his throat from the doorway.

“The guests have arrived,” he announces.

Oh, good. That’s my cue to exit.

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