The Lost Pack (Paige) novel Chapter 2

** Poppy’s POV **

I don’t slow down until we’re halfway down the corridor. Only then do I realise I’m gripping Leo’s hand hard enough to probably hurt him. I loosen my hold slightly and slow my pace.

“Sorry,” I breathe.

He doesn’t pull away. If anything, his grip tightens, steady and deliberate.

“Don’t apologise,” he says quietly. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

I let out a breath that does nothing to calm my nerves.

“Nothing,” I say automatically.

Leo doesn’t respond straight away; he just watches me.

“I’m fine,” I add, because apparently I’m determined to use the most unconvincing word in existence today.

His brow lifts slightly.

“Funny,” he says. “That’s exactly what you and Paige keep saying when it’s clear you’re not.”

I huff out a breath. “Well, clearly it’s contagious.”

He doesn’t smile. His gaze stays on me, sharp and assessing. I look away, dragging a hand through my hair as we reach the end of the corridor. The clinic feels different now. Too quiet in some places. Too loud in others. Every sound feels wrong somehow. Heightened, like my senses are on steroids, and I can’t decide what to focus on until they all hit at once.

Sound slams into me first. Voices from down the hall, footsteps, the soft hum of equipment. A baby crying somewhere in the distance, too loud, as if it’s right beside my ear instead of rooms away. My breath catches.

Then comes the scent. Antiseptic, blood, coffee, something sweet, something sour. Layers of it all hitting me at once, thick and overwhelming, like I can’t separate any of it.

“Poppy.” Leo’s voice cuts through it, lower now, firmer.

I flinch. My heart starts racing, too fast, too hard, like it’s trying to keep up with everything crashing in at once.

“I…” The word sticks in my throat.

My vision sharpens suddenly, painfully. Every detail is too clear. The cracks in the wall. The movement of someone at the end of the corridor. The flicker of light overhead. All of it at once. It’s too much.

“I can’t…” I gasp, covering my face with my hands. “Leo, I can’t…”

His hands are on me instantly, firm and unyielding, anchoring me in place.

“Hey. Look at me.”

I shake my head, my breath coming too fast. “There’s too much… I can hear everything… I can smell…”

“I know,” he says, his voice dropping further. “It’s the bond. Your senses are adjusting.”

That doesn’t make it better. If anything, it makes it worse. Because this isn’t adjusting, this is drowning. And if this is from the bond, it’s irreversible.

“Poppy.”

His hand closes around my jaw, not rough, but leaving no room to avoid him.

“Look. At. Me.” Something in his tone cuts through the chaos. Sharp and commanding.

Somehow, I do, and it’s enough. Everything else blurs slightly at the edges until it’s just him.

“Good,” he murmurs, softer now. “Stay with me.”

His thumb brushes slowly over my cheek.

“Breathe.”

I try. It comes out shaky at first. Then again. And again.

“That’s it,” he says quietly. “Just me. Nothing else.”

His scent cuts through everything else. Warm, familiar, and safe. The noise dulls slightly, the smells fading just enough that I can think again. My grip tightens on his shirt without me realising.

“I don’t like this,” I whisper.

“I know,” he says. “But you’re not dealing with it alone.”

I cling to that because I need something to hold onto right now. Slowly, painfully, everything starts to quiet to a manageable level. My breathing evens out. My pulse is still too fast, but it no longer feels like it’s spiralling out of control.

“I’m sorry,” I breathe.

Leo’s expression hardens immediately.

“Stop apologising,” he says, sharper this time. “Not for this.”

I nod, even though I still feel off. Like something inside me hasn’t quite settled back into place.

“I just…” I start, then stop. Because I don’t even know how to explain it. “That room,” I try again. “It just felt…”

Wrong. Important. Dangerous. I shake my head slightly; none of those feel right.

“Off,” I finish instead. “And then everything got too loud, too bright, too much.”

Leo steps closer, his hand sliding to my waist, firm and possessive, keeping me anchored to him.

“In what way?”

I hesitate. Because the answer isn’t something I’m sure I want to say out loud.

“They were looking at me,” I say finally.

His grip tightens instantly. His eyes flash with his wolf, something darker washing over his expression.

“Who?” he growls, low and dangerous.

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