The Lost Pack (Paige) novel Chapter 104

< Chapter 104

Chapter 104

**Paige’s POV **

+25 Points

After my shower, I feel like a new person, ready to try to deal with everything happening now that I’m not caked in blood. I head back downstairs wrapped in one of Ryder’s oversized hoodies. The smell of camomile tea drifts through the air, calming me further. Ryder is waiting at the island, a cup steaming in front of him. His gaze lifts to me as soon as I get to the bottom of the stairs. There’s exhaustion in his eyes, but there’s also something fierce there, something unshakable that steadies me more than any words could.

I sit beside him, Parker coming to sit on my other side. I sip the tea with a sigh.

“Better?” Rye asks.

“So much,” I nod.

I feel almost relaxed until the creak of the front door makes me jump, but it’s only Remy

stepping inside. He shuts the door quietly behind him, looking exhausted.

“Where’s Poppy and Callen?” I ask before he even has a chance to sit.

Remy scrubs a hand down his face. “Poppy wanted to stay with Leo at the healer’s. Callen stayed too, said she shouldn’t be alone. I doubt he would have made it back anyway. He donated a lot of blood, so he will need to rest for a while.”

My stomach twists. It makes sense, of course it does, but worry twists inside me. My little sister is in a strange place surrounded by strangers, and Callen should be resting here with us. He’s just as broken and raw as the rest of us.

“They’ll be fine,” Ryder says.

“How are they all holding up?”

“Leo’s stable, and your sister made it clear she wanted to stay. She seems to be handling it all well. Callen just needs a couple of hours‘ rest, and he’ll be fine.”

I nod, though my chest still aches.

Remy finally drops into a chair, stretching his long legs out with a groan. “She’s tougher than she looks, Paige, and Callen won’t let anything happen to her. Trust me on that.”

“I know,” I force a smile.

I trust Callen, of course I do; I’m more worried about her mental state.

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Parker’s warm hand brushes over mine. “You need rest,” he says softly. “We all do.”

“I can’t,” I whisper. The thought of closing my eyes, of letting my guard down, feels impossible right now.

$25 Points

Ryder reaches out to cup my cheek, turning my face towards him. “Yes, you can. Jaxon needs you rested. We all need you rested.” His tone leaves little room for protest. I can feel exhaustion pulling at me the same way it does them.

By the time I climb the stairs with Ryder’s hand in mine, tiredness is pulling at me even as my mind refuses to quiet. In Ryder’s room, Jaxon is already curled in the middle of the bed. He looks so tiny in this giant bed.

I slip in beside him, with Ryder sliding in on the other side, cocooning Jaxon between us. Ryder’s arm comes around both of us, wrapping us in his warmth.

I should feel safe like this, wrapped up in them, but my mind won’t stop spinning. Images of Leo, bleeding out on the floor, Jaxon’s scared eyes when we heard the gunshot, Poppy’s horror when we gave her the truth. Then there’s the thought of what Ryder and Remy went through, and how easily it could have been their blood I’d been soaked in; the ache in my chest deepens.

Ryder tightens his hold on me. “Sleep,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you.”

I close my eyes, clutching Jaxon tighter, but it doesn’t silence the storm in my head. Sleep feels out of reach tonight, and I can’t help wondering how many more nights like this we’ll have to survive.

I lie there for what feels like forever, my eyes tracing the shadows on the ceiling, every creak of the house, every movement outside setting my nerves on edge. Jaxon stirs once, kicking softly in his sleep, and I smooth a hand over his back until he sighs and settles again. “Sleep, Paige. Just for tonight, let yourself rest,” Ryder whispers, clearly sensing my struggle to process everything. “I’m not going to tell you not to worry, because that would be pointless, but rest now; everything will still be there for you to worry about tomorrow.”

He’s right; everything can wait until tomorrow. I bury my face in Jaxon’s hair, breathing in the soft, innocent scent of him. Ryder’s steady warmth surrounds us. I close my eyes and let myself imagine a life that should have been mine. I picture Jaxon as a newborn, freshly home from the hospital, cradled between his parents the way it was meant to be. Downstairs, my mum and dad sip wine to celebrate becoming grandparents, and my sister is fast asleep with a smile on her face because she’s just become an aunt. Slowly, the whirlwind of thoughts quiets. My body gives in before my mind does, exhaustion tugging me under.

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125 Points

The last thing I feel is Ryder’s hand sliding down to rest over mine where it clutches Jaxon close, his thumb brushing across my knuckles. I let myself believe I’m safe, and I finally sleep.

The first thing I feel is a small, insistent hand patting my cheek.

“Mummy. Mummy, wake up,” Jaxon whispers eagerly, his voice bubbling with the kind of energy only a six–year–old can have so early in the morning.

I blink my eyes open to find his face inches from mine, his hair sticking up in every direction.

Behind him, Ryder groans, burying his face into the pillow. “Too early,” he mutters.

Jaxon giggles without a hint of fear from last night. He wriggles until he’s sprawled half across Ryder’s chest, half across mine. “I’m hungry,” he declares.

I can’t help the laugh that slips out, even though my body still feels heavy from everything we lived through. “Of course you are.”

Ryder turns his face towards us and cracks one eye open, reaching to tickle Jaxon’s side.” You’re always hungry.”

Jaxon squeals and squirms, kicking the blankets down to our feet. “Hey, no tickle fights before breakfast and coffee,” I warn with a laugh.

The three of us lie tangled together for another moment, and something in my chest loosens. After the chaos and blood and fear, this feels almost unreal, like I’m clutching too tightly to a dream I don’t want to wake from.

“Come on,” I say, brushing Jaxon’s hair back from his forehead. “Let’s make breakfast before you waste away from hunger.”

His grin is enough to brighten anyone’s day. “Can I help?”

“Of course.”

We go downstairs together, Jaxon skipping a step ahead, Ryder’s hand in mine. The kitchen feels different in the morning light, it’s warmer, safer somehow. That is until I see the evidence from last night, and a mixture of emotions hits me.

Poppy’s blood–stained jacket is draped over the back of a chair. Callen’s shoes kicked off by the door. Relief washes through me so hard my knees almost give. They’re home.

Ryder notices too, his hand giving mine a light squeeze.

Jaxon climbs up onto a stool, already reaching for the mixing bowl as I pull it from the

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cupboard. Ryder finds eggs while I measure flour, and soon the three of us are putting breakfast together.

+25 Pointa

I’m just wiping a smear of batter off Jaxon’s cheek when heavy footsteps creak down the stairs. Remy appears at the bottom, his hair sleep–ruffled, and wearing a simple pair of

shorts.

“Smells good,” he says, heading straight for the coffee machine.

“Want some?” I offer, gesturing at the bowl.

“Do you even need to ask?” he laughs.

His gaze flicks to the abandoned jacket and shoes, then back to me. “Callen’s out cold in my bed. Parker’s on patrol, and Poppy is in Jaxon’s bed.”

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