Chapter 2 They belong here

Kael Solaris (POV)

The office always smelled like cedarwood and bad decisions.

My father called it “tradition.”

I called it expensive furniture designed to make people lie more politely.

I stood in front of his desk with my arms crossed, watching him go through papers he didn’t need to read. Alpha things. Territory reports. Pack logistics. The kind of work that made normal people think we were just a powerful family business.

We weren’t.

We were worse.

My father had been doing this for as long as I could remember. Sitting behind that desk, making decisions that affected hundreds of wolves without ever looking like the weight of them bothered him.

Sometimes I wondered if I would ever be able to sit there without feeling like I was wearing someone else’s skin.

Then again, I wasn’t planning on becoming him anytime soon.

“You’re distracted,” my father said without looking up.

“I’m bored,” I corrected.

He finally glanced at me.

“Same thing for you.”

I smirked.

“Not my fault your paperwork is emotional support material.”

A faint twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Almost a smile.

Almost.

My father rarely laughed during pack business. He said an Alpha needed to be taken seriously.

I thought an Alpha needed to know when everyone around him was about to fall asleep.

Then his expression shifted.

That subtle change in air pressure that always meant something real was about to happen.

“You felt it,” he said.

I stopped leaning on the wall.

That got my attention.

“Felt what?”

He set the paper down slowly.

“Someone crossed into the outer boundary this morning.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“We get tourists now?”

“No.”

His voice was calm.

Too calm.

“A family.”

That word meant more than it should’ve.

In our world, “family” rarely meant something simple.

Families had loyalties.

Families had histories.

Families had secrets.

And sometimes those secrets were the reason people disappeared.

My wolf stirred slightly under my skin—not awake, not aggressive.

Just… aware.

I hated when it did that.

“New pack?” I asked.

My father shook his head.

“Not new.”

That made no sense.

I pushed off the wall.

“Then what is it?”

He hesitated.

And that was worse than an answer.

“They’re returning,” he said finally. “To an old residence.”

I frowned.

“Old residence like… haunted old or politically inconvenient old?”

“Both.”

I sighed.

“Great. Love those.”

He slid a file across the desk toward me.

It stopped directly in front of my hands.

I didn’t touch it.

“I’m not your scout,” I said.

“You’re my son,” he replied.

“That doesn’t sound like a job title.”

“Read the file.”

I picked it up.

The folder was old.

Older than most of the paperwork my father kept in the office.

The edges were worn, and the papers inside had been handled enough times that some of the corners had begun to soften.

I flipped through them.

Names.

Documents.

Old records.

Dates.

Then I saw it.

A surname that made something in my chest tighten slightly.

Not pain.

Not recognition.

Something closer to instinct snapping its head up.

I didn’t like that.

I tapped the paper.

“Sinclair?”

My father’s eyes sharpened slightly.

“Yes.”

The air in the room changed.

Even I felt it.

Like the house itself had paused to listen.

I looked back at the file.

There were records of the family going back years.

Too many years.

And yet almost every page ended the same way.

Moved.

Gone.

Unknown location.

I looked up.

“That family left years ago,” I said slowly. “Before I was even—”

“Before your time, yes,” he interrupted.

I frowned.

“So why do I care now?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

Which meant I already did care, whether I liked it or not.

I flipped another page.

There were notes in my father’s handwriting.

Short.

Careful.

Protective.

That caught my attention more than anything else.

“They’re under protection,” he said.

I blinked.

“Our protection?”

“Our protection.”

I stared at him.

“We’re babysitting humans now?”

“No,” he said. “We’re correcting something unfinished.”

That sentence didn’t help anything.

I closed the file.

“That explains nothing.”

“It’s not meant to.”

I stared at him for a long moment.

He wasn’t going to tell me more.

Of course he wasn’t.

My father could turn a three-word answer into a lifelong mystery if given the opportunity.

I sighed.

“Fine. What do you need from me?”

That got his full attention.

“I need you to observe,” he said.

“Observe what?”

“The daughter.”

I paused.

“…They have a daughter?”

“Yes.”

I frowned slightly.

“Let me guess—she’s also ‘unfinished’?”

My father didn’t answer.

Which was basically a yes.

I exhaled.

“This is starting to sound like a problem you should’ve solved before it became my problem.”

He leaned back in his chair.

“It already is your problem.”

I groaned.

“I hate being right.”

I left the office ten minutes later, mostly because staying any longer would’ve involved more responsibilities and less sarcasm.

The house outside was quieter than usual.

Which meant something was happening.

Or about to happen.

Or both.

I walked through the back corridor and out toward the forest line, pulling my jacket tighter as I went.

The woods around our territory were… different.

Most people thought forests were just trees.

They weren’t.

They were borders.

Walls without bricks.

Living things that remembered every footstep, every scent, every trespasser.

I had grown up around these woods.

I knew where the ground dipped after heavy rain.

I knew which trees had hollow trunks.

I knew which paths the patrols used and which ones the younger wolves were forbidden from taking.

And right now, something had crossed mine.

I felt it before I saw it.

A ripple through the pack bond—soft, subtle, like a breath taken too close to my skin.

I stopped walking.

“…Okay,” I muttered to myself.

“That’s new.”

My wolf lifted its head inside me.

Not fully awake.

Just interested.

Which was worse.

I stepped deeper into the trees, moving silently now.

The familiar sounds of the forest surrounded me.

Leaves shifting.

Birds calling somewhere in the distance.

The occasional crack of a branch beneath my boots.

But beneath all of it was something else.

A feeling I couldn’t name.

The closer I got to the edge of the territory, the stronger it became.

A presence.

Not hostile.

Not aggressive.

Just… there.

Like gravity shifting slightly out of place.

I reached the ridge above the old road that led to the Sinclair house.

And I saw them.

A car.

A family stepping out.

Two adults.

And her.

I frowned.

“That’s it?” I whispered to myself.

She didn’t look dangerous.

Which immediately made me more suspicious.

Long curly hair. Light movement when she stepped out of the car like she didn’t quite belong in her own body yet. Looking around like the world was slightly too loud for her.

Normal.

Too normal.

My eyes followed her without permission.

She stood beside the car for a moment, staring at the house.

Her parents were moving around her, gathering bags and talking quietly.

She barely seemed to hear them.

There was something about the way she looked at that house.

Not excitement.

Not fear.

Something quieter.

Something I couldn’t place.

My wolf made a small sound inside my head.

I narrowed my eyes.

“Don’t start.”

The wolf didn’t listen.

Of course it didn’t.

Down below, her father said something to her.

She didn’t laugh.

Didn’t smile much either.

Just looked at the house like it was already familiar in a way she couldn’t explain.

My brows pulled together slightly.

That reaction… wasn’t normal.

I shifted my weight on the branch I was leaning against.

It creaked.

Loudly.

“Great,” I muttered.

“Stealth level: raccoon in a trash can.”

One of my pack guards—hidden further back in the trees—snorted.

I whipped my head toward him.

He froze.

I pointed at him.

“If you tell anyone I made a raccoon sound, I will deny your entire existence.”

He nodded very quickly.

Good.

I turned back toward the house.

The girl—Sinclair—had moved closer to the porch now.

She stopped halfway up the steps.

Something in me went completely still.

I didn’t understand why.

I watched her turn her head slightly, her eyes moving toward the forest.

Toward us.

My heartbeat skipped.

She couldn’t see me.

The trees were thick enough to hide an entire patrol.

But for one second, I had the strangest feeling that she was looking directly at me.

Then she looked away.

I released a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

My wolf wasn’t as calm.

It pressed against my skin.

Harder.

Insistent.

Like it wanted me to go down there.

I clenched my jaw.

“No.”

The wolf pushed again.

I hated this.

I’d never had to fight with my wolf before.

We usually agreed on things.

Eat.

Sleep.

Protect.

Fight when necessary.

This was different.

This felt like my wolf knew something I didn’t.

And that irritated me more than I wanted to admit.

Then it hit me.

Not a thought.

Not a feeling.

Something deeper.

My wolf reacted fully this time.

Sharp.

Instant.

Alert.

Like it had just recognized something it had been waiting for without knowing it was waiting.

I stiffened.

“What the hell…” I whispered.

The air around her felt wrong.

Not in a bad way.

In a significant way.

Like she was a missing piece of something I didn’t remember losing.

I stared at her.

She was just a girl.

A human girl, as far as I knew.

And yet every instinct in me was telling me to pay attention.

To remember her.

To protect her.

That last thought made absolutely no sense.

I didn’t even know her.

She paused suddenly.

Right before entering the house.

Her head tilted slightly.

Not toward me.

Not exactly.

But close enough that my instincts went completely still.

For a split second, I thought—

No.

She couldn’t sense me.

Humans don’t do that.

Right?

Down below, her father opened the door and ushered her inside.

And just like that—

The pull didn’t disappear.

It got worse.

I exhaled slowly.

“…Dad is going to love this,” I muttered.

Behind me, one of the guards shifted.

“What do you feel?” he asked quietly.

I didn’t answer immediately.

I stared at the house.

At the girl who had just walked inside.

At the window where I could barely make out her silhouette.

“I feel like my peaceful week just got canceled,” I said.

He hesitated.

“That bad?”

I turned slightly.

“No,” I said.

“Worse.”

A pause.

“…She’s cute though,” I added after a moment.

The guard blinked.

I immediately pointed at him again.

“Don’t start rumors.”

He nodded fast.

I looked back toward the house.

The feeling didn’t fade.

If anything, it settled deeper under my skin.

Like something had just arrived.

And it had no intention of leaving.

I exhaled slowly.

“Sinclair,” I muttered.

“What are you?”

And for the first time in a long time…

My wolf didn’t answer.

It just watched.