He watches me for a beat, letting that tension burn between us even longer, then he backs off and crosses his arms. “There will be a pack meeting later. It’s the first one since I’ve returned.”
“Great,” I mumble passively. “Enjoy your homecoming then.”
“You’re going.”
I pause, and my pulse jumps again. More dread floods my system. “I’m not going. I don’t go to them… I haven’t in a while.”
He doesn’t budge. “You’re going.”
My anger snaps back into place without warning. “You don’t get to order me around.”
“It’s not an order. It’s an expectation,” Caleb utters, annoyingly calm in the face of my irritation. “And it’s for your sake. If Wraith Peak is making moves on you, then I need the elders and enforcers briefed. Besides, you’re in this pack. You should act like it, especially if you want Astrid to be safe.”
He doesn’t get it. Even after all this time, he doesn’t realise how painful that is for me, or how all those years of torment come rushing in all over again.
“No,” I mumble, throat tight. “They don’t want me there.”
“It doesn’t matter what they want,” he returns, tone clipped but determined. “You’re under my protection.”
Every instinct in me screams to fight him on it, but I know it won’t get me anywhere, so I clamp my mouth shut again.
After a beat, Caleb forces out a breath. “Don’t go far. I’ll let you know when we’re leaving.”
My jaw clenches, and I urge myself to speak regardless of how my skin burns at the thought of going. “I have work, you know. I can’t just drop everything because you say so.”
He pauses, looking genuinely confused. “Work?”
I scoff. “Yeah, work. The thing people do to survive. I do home care for the elderly in town.”
Caleb frowns at that, almost like the mere idea offends him to some degree. “You don’t need to.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re staying here, and you’re safe here, as I said. Let me handle the rest.”
The thought both stuns me and makes my blood boil. “And there it is…”
“What?”
“The arrogance, the control, and the complete disregard for the life I’ve built without you,” I fire back, careful not to be loud enough for Astrid to hear me.
“I’m not disregarding anything.”
“Yes, you are,” I mutter, body tense with anger. “Regardless of what you might think of it, my work matters, and so does my independence. I’m not some fragile thing that needs sheltering.”
Caleb’s eyes darken at that, losing some of his cool. “I’m just trying to help you, Lila.”
“And I’m trying to stay sane.”
We stare at each other too long for comfort, both resisting the urge to blow up completely.
Finally, Caleb steps back, expression unreadable. “Just be ready.”
Without waiting for another word, he heads for the door and grabs his jacket, throwing it on. He leaves, and the house sits silently with a lingering note of finality from his exit.
Still in the kitchen, my chest burns with my rage.
I should be relieved for that undeniable safety, but instead, I feel cornered and suffocated.
