The Lost Pack (Paige) novel Chapter 175

** Remy’s POV **

Something about returning home makes the silence worse.

The forest was bad enough… too still, too knowing, but stepping into the clearing around the first of the Phoenix cabins feels even worse.

Ryder raises a hand, and we slow, fanning out across the open space.

The cabins look exactly how we left them last night: doors shut, windows unbroken, porch lights dark. No open drawers. No overturned chairs. No bodies. It’s the same, but so very different; at this time of day it should be a hive of activity. Children should be running and laughing, smoke should be pouring from chimneys, the scent of cooking food should be thick in the air, but this… this is just nothing.

It’s eerie. My stomach twists as fragmented flashes of memories flicker in my mind.

Something cold slips down my spine, and before I can stop it, the clearing shifts in my mind, overlaying memory with reality. I was three when the hunters came for us the first time. Too young to understand anything except fear. But even now, I remember the silence that came after the screaming stopped. I remember stepping out from where someone had hidden me and Parker, seeing cabins thatlooked just like this, whole, untouched, tidy in a way that felt wrong. Like death had tidied up after itself. I remember thinking my parents would come out any second. They never did. And standing here now, breathing in this empty silence, it feels like stepping into that same nightmare all over again.

I shake the memory away. The one I’ve spent my whole adult life trying to forget. I’ve even convinced myself it was a false memory, that I was too young to remember.

I’ve told myself it’s just imagery my mind conjured up from overheard conversations to fill in the blanks. But now I’m not so sure; this feels far too familiar.

turn in a slow circle, scenting the air for anything wrong, anything unfamiliar. Nothing new hits me, just the layers of pack scent seared into the wood.

But underneath the familiar… there’s an echo. Like the land itself remembers the fear.

Ryder’s voice slips through the general mind-link, low and commanding. “We sweep cabin by cabin. Midnight pack, keep the perimeter locked down. No one breaks formation.”

Three marksmen shift positions near the tree line, rifles trained outward. This should make me feel safer. It doesn’t.

Callen steps toward the first cabin, his jaw tight. “TIl take the upstairs with Ronnie.””‘ll take the right,” I say automatically.

Ryder nods, “‘ll go left. If anything feels off, you speak up.” He doesn’t need to say it. We’re all walking with our wolves pressed against our skin, teeth bared and ready.

We’re half-way up the porch steps when Leo’s voice bursts into the mind-link. “I’m at the house. Paige and Jaxon are safe.”

Relief washes through me. I knew they were okay. I can feel her through the bond, but something felt off, and not being able to mind-link Parker just raised another red flag. I also hear what he’s not saying. He doesn’t say they’re fine, or they’re well, just safe.

“Define safe,” I growl before Ryder can.

Leo huffs. “Relax, big guy. They’re okay. Paige is… focused.

Too focused, honestly. She’s zoned out. Eyes… fixed, like she’s watching something none of can see. She’s clinging to Parker like he’s her anchor, draining half his damn energy in the process.”

Callen freezes mid-step. “Draining?”

“Not on purpose,” Leo says. “But she’s locked onto him. It’s like she’s drawing power through the bond. Parker looks like he’s fighting to stay awake. Paige is bright. Really bright.”

Ryder stops at the door, hand on the handle, shoulders going rigid. “That explains the blocked mind-link.””Maybe,” I mutter. “Or something else is fucking with it

Ryder pulls Ronnie into the shared link and explains what is happening with Paige.

Leo continues, his tone shifting. “I called Ronnie in before telling you. He thinks Paige is still too drained to sustain whatever she’s doing. Last night tore her open. She’s running on instinct and Parker’s energy.”

Ronnie grunts beside Callen. “Makes sense. She’s stabilising herself using Parker. After last night, she is still too drained to sustain whatever it is she is doing. She has good instincts, but this could be a bad long-term plan.”

clench my jaw. “Do you need us to go back?”

“No,” Ronnie answers before Leo can. “This is good training for her. She’s listening to her body. From the little / was able to translate, this is what happens when a Lunarae wakes.”

Callen frowns. “Should Leo tell her to stop?”

“Absolutely not.” Ronnie says sharply. “The last thing we want is to teach her to shut down her instincts. Let her use what she can. Let her learn her limits safely.”

Pride and fear twist together inside my chest. Paige shouldn’t have to handle any of this alone, but damn if she isn’t doing exactly that.

“Leo, this may sound odd, but try putting her in the sun,”Ronnie adds.

Ryder blinks. “What?”

Ronnie shrugs.

“If what I think I translated from that

ancient book is right, she pulls power faster under sunlight and moonlight. Get her to a window, doorway, anything. Let me test a theory.”

Leo snorts. “So you want me to lure her to the window and put her on charge?”

Ronnie: “Yes.”

Ryder pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Do it without alarming her.”

“‘ll try,” Leo says. “No promises.”

The link quiets again, leaving just the four of us and the creeping wrongness of our territory.

Ryder inhales slowly. “Let’s get this done. Eyes sharp.”

He pushes open the cabin door.

The first cabin smells exactly as it should, wood, dust, stale coffee, the lingering scent of pack, but every hair on my body stands on end.

I sweep the kitchen first, scanning open shelving, listening for the creak of floorboards that shouldn’t move.

Nothing.

The kettle sits on the stove, unmoved. A half-finished cup is still on the counter, long gone cold. Someone’s hoodle hangs from the back of a chair.

Callen’s voice cuts in quietly from the bedroom. ” Everything’s untouched. Even the damn socks on the floor.”

“All clear,” Ryder calls.

That’s what worries me. If hunters had been here, we’d have seen something. A print, a broken lock. Even their scent sticks to wood for hours. But there’s nothing. It’s the kind of nothing that screams deliberate.

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