The Golden Lycans (Ella) novel Chapter 82

Claim

To the Pack House

***Ella***

After breakfast, I meet Austin down in the atrium. Outside, the air is sharp and biting, the ground

coated in a thin, glittering frost. It’s the kind of cold that seeps into your bones, forcing me to tug

my winter bobble hat down over my ears.

Austin, however, seems utterly unbothered by the chill. He grins as he takes my hand his warmth seeping through my glove as he leads me toward the car park.

But the moment my boots hit the pavement, I falter. The cold isn’t what makes me shiver now, it’s the memory of the last time I was here. The memory of the confusion, the pain and the way I’d turned my back on everything I didn’t understand. My heart clenches, the ache still fresh and raw.

Austin stops immediately, turning back to me as if he could feel the shift in my emotions. His gaze

softens, reading me with an uncanny awareness.

“Ella, it’s okay,” he says, his voice steady, soothing. “I understood your reasons then, and I definitely understand what really happened now.”

I exhale shakily, frustration and regret bubbling in my chest.

“I just wish…” I hesitate, swallowing the lump in my throat, “I wish I had known, that the reason I felt the way I did that day was because of the bond. I was so scared of what I felt, of how strong it was. I-I didn’t understand, and I hurt you. I’m so sorry.”

Austin doesn’t hesitate. He pulls me into his arms, holding me close, his warmth melting away the cold. His embrace is strong and grounding, and the way he squeezes me lightly-just enough to remind me that we’re both here now, together.

“How could you have known?” he murmurs against my hair, “you couldn’t. But you do know now. W

e know. And here we are.”

He pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, his expression so open, so full of unshaken certainty

that my heart stumbles.

“And honestly?” he adds, lips curving into a smile, “I couldn’t be happier.”

Something inside me settles at his words, as if a weight I’ve been carrying for far too long finally

lifts.

He presses a quick kiss to my forehead before stepping back, his fingers lingering in mine for a moment before he walks to the car and opens the door for me.

1/4

O

THU

OOG OW G

|||

O

Claim

To the Pack House

I take a deep breath and slide inside, watching as he rounds the car and climbs into the driver’s

seat. Within minutes, we’re on the road toward the Golden Lycans pack house.

“I’m nervous about talking to your dad,” I admit, my fingers tightening slightly in my lap. “He’s definitely not a fan. The first time I met him, he wasn’t even polite-just looked at Freya and asked why I hadn’t left with the other humans.” My voice is edged with lingering resentment as I stare out the window, watching as the motorway ends and the car veers onto the slip road, heading toward the national park.

Austin chuckles, glancing both ways at a junction before accelerating smoothly. “Ella,” he says, his voice filled with quiet conviction, “I really don’t care what he thinks.”

I turn my head slightly, glancing at him from the corner of my eye.

“I used to,” he continues, his hands firm on the wheel. “But now? He’s just going to have to accept who you are, what you are. And if he can’t see past the fact that you’re not Lycan? That’s his problem, not mine.” He exhales sharply, as if dismissing the very thought of it. “To me, none of that

matters. You are all that matters to me now.”

His words settle over me like a steady warmth, easing some of the tension coiled in my chest.

As we drive deeper into the trees, the towering redwoods begin to cast long shadows across the road, the morning light filtering through in golden ribbons. The landscape feels untouched, ancient.

Austin turns onto a narrow, winding path, the tires bouncing over uneven ground as the car begins a slow ascent. The incline is steep, but after a few minutes, the trees part just enough to reveal the

house.

I blink in surprise.

It’s grand. Not on the scale of Exton, but imposing nonetheless. A sprawling country estate with large bay windows and ivy creeping up sections of the stone walls. A circular drive winds around a tiered fountain, its water frozen mid-flow, glistening with frost. To the side, a sheltered carport

houses a few sleek vehicles, and it’s here that Austin pulls in smoothly before cutting the engine.

I step out, my boots crunching against the gravel as I tilt my head back to take in the sheer size of

the house.

It looks more like a luxury retreat than someone’s home.

The surroundings are breathtaking. Tall trees, thick ferns, and frost-kissed shrubs stretch in every direction, forming a secluded world of its own. This place is hidden, completely out of view from any road. If you didn’t know it was here, you’d never find it.

THU

8

OWG |||

O

୮

2/4

<To the Pack House

Just as I start to absorb it all, Austin moves in front of me, his expression turning serious.

Claim

“Just be yourself and try to relax,” Austin reassures me, taking my hand as he leads me to the front door. “And remember this-one day, you’ll be the second-highest authority here. You don’t answer

to anyone.”

He hesitates with his key, then glances at me. “How much has Freya told you about formalizing a

mate bond? You knew about marking, so…”.

I swallow, raising my eyebrows. “Uh… she told me everything, I think. Marking, mating… but not

much else. Just that you’re pretty traditional,” I admit, feeling shy.

Austin lets out a short laugh, nodding slightly as he unlocks the door. “We can talk about it privately

later if you want. But if my dad brings it up, just take it with a grain of salt. Ignore him. You always

have a choice.”

As we step into the grand entrance hall, nerves twist in my stomach. Not even Austin’s usual calming presence makes a difference.

“My parents came back early this morning, so they should be around,” he mutters, leading me down a long corridor lined with heavy double doors,

“This place is… huge,” I whisper, catching a glimpse of a grand ballroom through an open doorway.

“Thirty people live here across eighteen bedrooms,” Austin says casually, pushing open a set of doors to reveal a sleek, modern kitchen-diner-surprisingly contemporary compared to the rest of

the house.

But it’s empty.

“Where is everyone?” Austin muses aloud. He pauses, eyes glazing over for a second, clearly communicating with Atlas. Then, without another word, he strides toward a long row of glass

doors leading to a frost-covered patio.

I follow him outside, taking in the pristine, well-maintained garden.

“My mum does all of this herself,” Austin says, noticing my gaze. “She’s very proud of it.”

He guides me along the patio, then down a wooded path. After a minute of walking, a large wooden cabin appears among the trees, smoke curling lazily from its chimney, warm light glowing

through the windows.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify