The Lost Pack (Paige) novel Chapter 223

** Paige’s POV **

The forest doesn’t explode into chaos. That’s the strangest part. The wind doesn’t rise. The hunters don’t burst through the trees, and the shots don’t come, but they will.

It’s just a matter of time.

Everything is silent, too silent as we wait for something, anything to happen.

I stay on the porch, wrapped in the blanket Parker had draped over my shoulders earlier.

All four of my mates stay at my side, their presence a constant weight, not pressing or crowding… just there.

The Twiceborn melt into positions that feel less like defence and more like inevitability.

The land hums with alertness beneath my bare feet, and I close my eyes, breathing slowly, carefully, keeping my awareness tight instead of letting it surge outward the way it wants to. I could reach so much farther now. I know that. The temptation is constant, a quiet pull behind my ribs, urging me to check, to know, to make sure everything and everyone is where they should be. Especially them.

Especially him.

Jaxon’s light is distant but unmistakable, a bright, steady warmth far beyond the perimeter, tucked safely into Midnight Pack territory. I don’t have to search for it. It’s always there, a constant star in the back of my awareness.Poppy is harder. Not because she’s gone; distance alone doesn’t block me anymore. But because something around her feels… folded in… Contained.

Like she’s wrapped herself tightly around Jaxon and pulled everything else inward with her. I could reach for her. I know I could.

The bond between us isn’t like the one I share with my mates, but it’s strong, old, layered with shared blood and shared history. If I let my awareness slip in that direction, I’d find her easily, and that’s exactly why I don’t.

Fear curls low in my stomach, not of what I’d see, but of what I might feel. Of what might change once it’s seen, named, and acknowledged. Some things, once known, can’t be put back. So I stay where I am. Focussed on what is coming, waiting.

Callen moves beside me, close enough that his arm brushes mine. “You’re holding yourself very still” he whispers.

I open my eyes. “If I don’t, I won’t stop.”

He nods as if that makes perfect sense. “You want me to anchor you?”

“Yes,” I admit quietly.

His hand closes around mine instantly, fingers warm and steady, and the bond settles into something solid and grounding. The pull eases, just enough.Around us, Leo moves between wolves, his voice calm. He gives instructions once, clearly, then moves on. The pack responds without hesitation.

I register Jake’s presence a moment later, a faint hitch of surprise threading through my awareness. He shouldn’t be here. Leo had sent him to Midnight Pack with Poppy earlier, ordering him to stay there and focus on keeping the evacuees calm.

I open my mouth to ask why he’s not with Poppy, but Ryder speaks before I get a chance.

“Leo decided to pull all the healers back home,” he explains. “If anyone gets hit with the toxin, they’ll need treatment fast, and you need to focus on the hunters, not the injured.”

I nod; it makes sense. They’re not here to fight, but to be ready. To be close enough to reach the injured the moment they hit the ground.

Jake stands with them now, his hands steady, but his jaw tight, every part of him straining toward the front line but choosing to stay where he’s needed most. That tension hums in him, sharp and unresolved.

I feel it even before I see the way his gaze flicks to Leo and away again, something brittle and unspoken sitting between them.

Leo catches Jake’s eye and gives a small, sharp nod. It’s not dismissive or unkind, just final. Jake exhales hard through his nose and turns back to his task, prepping blood bags.

I look away before I get drawn into whatever is going on there. This is not the time to unravel personal threads.

This is the time to hold.

Hours pass. The moon rises higher. The quiet grows heavier. It presses against my senses like deep water, not moving, not receding. The corruption I felt days ago hasn’t vanished. It’s just… waiting at the edge of my perception, coiled and patient.

“Still nothing?” Callen asks for what feels like the hundredth time.

I shake my head. “They’re close, but they’re waiting for something.”

Inside the cabin, Ryder moves with purpose, checking the camera feeds, reassessing defensive positions with Leo and Remy, keeping his mind busy the way he always does when instinct threatens to take over. I love him for that, for the way he doesn’t try to cage his fear, just works around it.

Parker joins us on the porch for a while, handing me a cup of steaming tea I don’t remember asking for. I hold it; using it to warm my hands, but I don’t sip it. It feels wrong to be standing here sipping tea whilst the enemy is literally on our doorstep, waiting to attack at any moment. He doesn’t comment when I don’t drink it. He never does.”You’re doing good,” he says softly.

I huff a breath. “I’m standing still.”

“That’s the hard part,” he replies.

Remy steps out onto the porch, his eyes flashing with his wolf as they catch the moonlight. He doesn’t speak, but his presence is sharp and alert.

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