Chapter 122
The morning air carried the usual bustle of the packhouse, and yet, I felt on edge. Ever since Jake marked me, my emotions had been a storm. The bond was a constant hum in the back of my mind, connecting me to him in ways I didn’t fully understand. And while Sophie was her usual cheerful self, others—like Fatima—seemed to be watching me with something closer to disdain.
I couldn’t quite blame her. She’d been so close to Priscilla, the former Luna, and now I was here, unasked for and unwanted, wearing a title that clearly didn’t sit well with her.
Still, I had to try.
Carrying a basket of herbs, I stepped into the kitchen, determined to help prepare breakfast for the pack. Maybe contributing would show them that I wasn’t here to replace anyone—that I only wanted to help.
Fatima stood by the counter, chopping vegetables with a precision that bordered on aggression. Her eyes flicked to me briefly before returning to her task.
“Good morning,” I said, forcing a smile.
Her response was a low hum, barely audible.
I set the basket down and began pulling out the fresh herbs I’d picked earlier. “I thought I’d make something light for breakfast—maybe a stew or some scrambled eggs?”
“You don’t need to bother,” Fatima said flatly, her knife slicing through a carrot with an audible thud. “The kitchen’s already covered.”
Her tone was sharp enough to cut, but I refused to let it deter me. “I just want to help,” I said gently.
She stopped chopping and turned to face me, her dark eyes flashing with irritation. “Help? By pretending you’re her?”
I blinked, taken aback. “What?”
“You heard me,” she snapped. “You walk around here acting like you belong, but you’ll never be her. Priscilla was the heart of this pack. She held us together, and now you think you can waltz in and take her place?”
Her words hit like a slap, and for a moment, I was too stunned to respond.
“I’m not trying to take her place,” I said finally, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. “I know I’ll never be her. I’m just—”
“You’re just what?” she interrupted, stepping closer. “A stand-in? A second chance? You think putting on a kind face will make us forget her?”
“That’s not fair!” I shot back, my frustration boiling over. “I didn’t ask for this! I didn’t ask to be Jake’s mate or to wear this title. I’m just trying to do my best for this pack—for his children!”
Her expression softened, just for a moment, but then she shook her head. “You don’t understand. You don’t know what she meant to us.”
“I want to understand,” I said, my voice firm despite the lump in my throat. “But you won’t even give me a chance.”
The tension between us was suffocating, and for a moment, I thought she might lash out again. But instead, she turned away, her shoulders slumping slightly.
“You don’t get it,” she muttered. “You couldn’t.”
“Then explain it to me,” I said, stepping closer. “Tell me what I don’t get.”
The kitchen was quiet, the only sound the faint hum of activity elsewhere in the packhouse. Fatima’s hands rested on the counter, her knuckles white as she gripped the edge.
“She was everything,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “Priscilla wasn’t just our Luna—she was our family. She cared about everyone, no matter their rank or role. She remembered birthdays, helped with pups, stayed up late to comfort anyone who needed it.”
I nodded, my throat tightening as I listened.
“And Jake?” she continued, her voice trembling. “He was different with her. Softer. He smiled more. Laughed. She brought out a side of him that most of us didn’t even know existed.”
I swallowed hard, the weight of her words settling over me. “I’m not trying to replace her,” I said softly. “I know I can’t. But I—”
“You’ll never be her,” Fatima said, cutting me off.
“I’m not trying to be,” I said firmly. “But I care about this pack, and I care about the twins. I just want to do right by them. By all of you.”
She turned to face me, her eyes searching mine. For the first time, I saw something other than anger in her gaze—something closer to pain.
“She was my best friend,” she said, her voice breaking. “She was the sister I never had. Losing her...” She shook her head, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
My heart ached for her, for the grief that still lingered like a shadow over the pack. “I’m sorry,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us was heavy with unspoken emotions, but there was a fragile truce in the silence.
“I don’t hate you,” she said finally, her voice quiet but steady. “I just... I don’t know how to let go of her.”
“You don’t have to let go,” I said gently. “She’ll always be a part of this pack. Of all of you. And I don’t want to take that away. I just want to help where I can.”
Fatima studied me for a long moment before nodding slowly. “You’re stubborn,” she said, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.
“I’ve been told that before,” I said with a small laugh.
Her smile widened, and for the first time, I felt like we’d taken a step—albeit a small one—toward understanding.
As the day went on, the tension between us eased. Fatima still had her sharp edges, but there was a softness to her now, a vulnerability that hadn’t been there before.
While we worked together in the kitchen, she began sharing stories about Priscilla—her laugh, her love for wildflowers, the way she’d always sneak sweets to the pups when Jake wasn’t looking.
“She had this way of making everyone feel special,” Fatima said, her voice tinged with fondness. “Even when things were hard, she never let it show. She just... she kept going.”
“She sounds amazing,” I said, my heart aching for the woman I’d never met.
“She was,” Fatima said, her smile bittersweet. “And she would have liked you.”
Her words caught me off guard, and I looked at her in surprise.
“She would have,” Fatima repeated, her expression softening. “She always believed in second chances.”
That evening, as the packhouse settled into its usual rhythm, I found myself standing on the balcony, staring out at the horizon.
The moon was full, its silver light casting a soft glow over the trees. I leaned against the railing, my thoughts drifting to Priscilla, to Jake, to the bond that now connected us.
“Thank you,” I whispered to the night, my heart heavy but hopeful.
For the first time since I’d arrived, I felt like I belonged—not as a replacement, but as myself.
And that was enough.
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