The Lost Pack (Paige) novel Chapter 2

** Poppy’s POV **

They stand, but they don’t move. That’s the first thing I notice. Not the cabin, nor the way the porch light casts a warm gold over them. Not even the way the bond feels thicker here, heavier in my chest. They are so still.

I’m not sure what I expected… running into each other’s arms? Angry stomping? Possessive growling? Frantically being checked over?

Instead, Leo stands to the left, solid and still, shoulders squared as if he’s bracing for impact. Jake is half a step behind him, his hands flexing at his sides as if he doesn’t trust them not to reach for me. Neither of them takes a single step forward, and the distance between us stretches wide and tense.

I swallow. This was my idea. I asked Callen to bring me to them. I had felt brave when I said it, but now it feels reckless. My heart beats too fast, my palms are clammy, and my throat is dry in a way that makes it hard to breathe.

“Look at them.” The voice floats in my mind, barely there. I’m not sure if it’s my own, or my mysterious passengers.

I don’t look. My gaze drifts instead to the cabin door, the windows, the edge of the porch. Anywhere but their eyes, because if I look at them, really look, something will change.

If I look at Leo first, what does that say?

If I look at Jake first, will Leo feel hurt?

If I hesitate too long, will Jake think I regret coming back?

How do you divide something that was never meant to be divided?

My chest tightens, and the voice inside me stirs. “You already know.”

I ignore it; now is not the time.

The clearing feels too quiet. I swear Callen is holding his breath beside me, and even the night insects seem to have paused, waiting.

Why aren’t they saying anything? Why aren’t they closing the distance and demanding answers?

Part of me had prepared for that. For heat, for anger, for someone grabbing my wrist and pulling me into a chest that felt too solid to escape. I hadn’t prepared for this, though.

They’re being… careful. Like I’m the one who might bolt. The realisation hits harder than any confrontation would have. Of course they’d think that, because that’s exactly what I did the last time they got too close.

They’re afraid… Of me. Not in a dangerous way; they know I can’t physically hurt them. They’re scared in a fragile way. The kind of fear that only comes after you’ve already lost something once.

My stomach twists. Eight months. Eight months of silence, of distance, of pretending I didn’t feel the bond tug every time the moon was too bright, or the night was too quiet.

I lift my foot before I fully decide to. One step, it’s small, barely anything really. They still don’t move.

Jake’s breath catches; I hear it from here. Leo’s jaw tightens, but his feet remain planted.

My throat burns, but I take another step. The closer I get, the harder it is not to look up. Their presence presses against my chest, steady and undeniable. I can feel the difference between them even without meeting their eyes. Leo is strength. Jake is warmth. The voice whispers again, softer this time. “You are not walking toward a cage; this is your freedom.”

My fingers curl into the fabric of my jacket. I want to believe that. I take another step. My confidence, the one that got me on the bus, that smirked at Alaric, that pretended I wasn’t shaken by two words on a screen, fades with every inch of distance that disappears between us.

This isn’t banter or defiance or pride; this is real, this is choice, and choices have consequences.

I stop a few feet from the porch. Close enough that I can see the tension in Jake’s hands. Close enough that I can feel Leo’s restraint like a physical thing in the air between us.

Still, I don’t look at them.

“Coward.” The word echoes in my mind.

Maybe I am. Because once I look, I won’t be able to pretend this doesn’t matter.

The silence stretches, and it’s only then that I realise Callen hasn’t followed me. Even without looking at my mates, the rest of the world had faded, leaving nothing but me and them.

Finally, I draw in a breath that feels too sharp in my lungs. “I’m not running,” I say quietly.

The silence that follows feels heavier than before. I take a shaky breath and force myself to lift my gaze, but not high enough to meet theirs. It lands somewhere between them, in the space just below the porch light, in the gap that still separates us. My heart is beating so hard I’m surprised they can’t hear it.

Then Jake’s voice breaks the quiet.

“Okay,” he says softly.

That’s it. No accusation. No sigh of relief. No, “you never should have left.” Just… okay.

My eyes flick up instinctively at the sound of his voice, and for half a second, I meet his gaze before I can stop myself. It hits like a punch.

He looks thinner. Not physically, maybe, but emotionally. Like he’s been worn down and sharpened at the same time. There’s no anger there, just caution, and a hope so fragile it almost hurts to look at. I drop my gaze again.

“I didn’t know if I should come tonight,” I admit. “I thought maybe… tomorrow.” My voice sounds smaller than I intended.

Leo shifts slightly, not stepping forward, just redistributing his weight. The sound of his boot against the wood makes my stomach flip.

“You don’t have to be here if it’s not what you want,” he says.

His voice is lower than I remember it, rougher.

I glance up again, and this time my eyes meet his. The control in him is obvious. It’s in the way his hands are loose at his sides instead of clenched, and the way his shoulders are squared. In the way he hasn’t taken a single step toward me. He’s holding himself back, for me. The realisation unravels something tight inside my chest.

“I asked Callen to bring me,” I say quickly, as if I need them to understand that. “No one pushed me.”

“We know,” Jake says.

I raise a brow. “You do?”

He nods once. “He told us.” I swallow, of course he did.

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