Jade
For a while, it was easy to pretend that everything could be normal. Zade and I found a rhythm that felt almost natural — shared smiles across crowded rooms, whispered jokes no one else understood, touches that lingered just a second too long to be casual. It was the kind of closeness I had never allowed myself to dream about, and it was terrifying how quickly it became something I needed.
But reality had a way of catching up.
One afternoon, Zade invited me to meet his inner circle — the wolves he trusted most, the ones who stood closest to him in the hierarchy I barely understood. I said yes before I could overthink it, desperate to prove to myself that I could handle this, that I could fit into the life that was slowly becoming ours. But as we approached the clearing where they waited, my stomach twisted itself into knots so tight it was hard to breathe.
They were already gathered when we arrived, clustered in loose groups, their conversation quiet but tense. I could feel the weight of their attention the second we stepped into view. Conversations faltered. Eyes lifted. Whispers buzzed faintly through the air like static.
Zade’s hand found the small of my back, a steadying touch that anchored me even as the pressure of their stares made my skin crawl. His fingers brushed against the curve of my waist, a silent reminder that I wasn’t alone. I straightened my spine and forced a smile, even though every instinct screamed at me to turn around and run.
One by one, Zade introduced me. Some greeted me with polite smiles and warm words. Others simply nodded stiffly, their eyes lingering too long, their distrust obvious. It was subtle, but it was there — a tension in their shoulders, a tightness around their mouths, a hesitation that said without words, You don’t belong here.
I tried to shake it off. I tried to focus on the ones who smiled warmly, who asked me easy questions about school and hobbies and favorite foods. But the others — the ones who kept their distance, who measured me like I was a problem they didn’t know how to solve — weighed heavier on me than I wanted to admit.
I wasn’t just Zade’s girlfriend. I was his mate. His bond. His future. Whether I liked it or not, whether I was ready or not, I carried the weight of what that meant for all of them.
After a while, I slipped away from the group, needing space to breathe. I found a quiet spot near the edge of the clearing, sitting on a fallen log and staring out into the thick line of trees beyond. The sounds of laughter and conversation drifted over to me, but they felt muted, distant, like they belonged to someone else’s life.
A few minutes later, Zade found me. He didn’t say anything at first. He just sat beside me, close enough that our shoulders brushed, and waited.
“They don’t trust me,” I said finally, my voice low and unsteady.
Zade let out a breath, his hand covering mine where it rested on my knee. His touch was warm, grounding, but it didn’t erase the heaviness pressing down on my chest.
“They don’t know you yet,” he said gently. “And they’re scared. Change always makes people scared.”
I stared down at our hands, at the way his thumb moved in slow circles over my knuckles. “I’m not like them, Zade. I’m not… strong like you. I’m not part of this world.”