The Lost Pack (Paige) novel Chapter 149

Chapter 149

**Paige’s POV **

By the time the afternoon rolls around, Ronnie is still here, sitting at the kitchen table with his sleeves rolled up and his hair sticking up like he’s been running a hand through it too times.

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My mates have gathered around him, Ryder leaning against the counter with that quiet Alpha intensity, Callen perched on the edge of the island, Remy and Parker sitting in the chairs. Jaxon’s in the living room a few feet away, humming to himself as he builds a fortress out of Lego bricks.

“Alright,” Ronnie says, flipping open his notebook. “We’ve got patrols, you’ve got safe zones, and Paige has started her control work. Now tell me what this brainstorm is that you’ve all been on about.”

Ryder nods at Parker. “You start.”

Parker’s eyes light up immediately. “Okay, so, we’ve been thinking about how to stop reacting all the time. We keep waiting for them to make the first move. It’s time we got ahead of them. We need traps, non–lethal ones, and a counter–sniper plan for if things go wrong.”

Ronnie raises an eyebrow. “Counter–snipers?”

“Yeah,” Callen says, leaning forward. “They’ve been using long–range rifles with silencers and night vision. If we go up against them again without a way to fight back, we’re sitting ducks.”

Remy nods. “We’re not talking about turning the pack into soldiers. Just… levelling the playing field. We can’t keep pretending this is going to blow over, or that we stand a chance against weapons like that.”

Ryder’s voice cuts in. “The traps will help slow them, but the rifles, those are the difference between life and death if they get the high ground again.”

Ronnie rubs a hand over his jaw, staring down at the pages in front of him. He doesn’t speak for a long time. The air thickens with the weight of it. He’s been through more than any of us; he’s seen what happens when packs go to war unprepared. His silence feels like a warning in itself.

When he finally looks up, his gaze drifts past us to where Jaxon sits on the floor, tongue poking from the corner of his mouth as he concentrates on balancing a Lego tower. Ronnie’s shoulders sag just a little.

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“I hate this,” he admits quietly. “Everything about this.” His eyes flick back to us. “You’re asking me to help you arm yourselves. Do you know what that means?”

Ryder meets his gaze without flinching. “That we’re not running this time.”

Ronnie studies him for a moment, then exhales through his nose. “You sound like I did twenty–five years ago.” His tone is half fond, half broken. “I said the same thing when the first hunters came for the Emerald Ash Pack. I told myself we’d fight smart, that we’d protect the children, that it was the only way to stop them, and we did, for a while. But in the end, we lost because we weren’t willing to go far enough soon enough. I won’t make that mistake again.”

There’s a soft clack as Jaxon fits another piece into his tower. Ronnie’s expression softens as he watches him. “If this means that boy has a chance to grow up with a family and without a target on his back, then fine. We’ll do it. But we do it right.”

Ryder gives a slow nod. “We’ll need contacts for training. Legal channels if possible.”

“I can reach out to an old friend,” Ronnie says. “He trained wolves for defense work in Scotland. Knows his way around rifles and restraints. If we start with non–lethal options, we can transition only if absolutely necessary.”

Remy mutters, “Necessary always seems to find us.”

Ronnie shoots him a look that quiets him instantly. “We don’t glorify it. We don’t joke about it. Every shot you fire changes something, sometimes more than you can see.” He closes his notebook with a soft snap and leans back in his chair. “Fine. I’ll make the calls tonight.”

The tension eases a little, but only just. Callen blows out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair. “What about the traps?”

Remy leans forward, sketching with his finger on the island’s surface. “We’ll use gentle snares on the narrower trails, loops set low, not enough pressure to harm, just enough to trip or tangle. We can rig net–drops from the branches and maybe a few paint–burst markers, like hunter’s powder but harmless. We’ll lay false trails to throw them off.”

Ronnie nods slowly. “Good. Harmless if triggered accidentally, easy to reset, and humane.” His gaze flicks to me. “And Paige?”

I blink, caught off guard. “What about me?”

“You’re the unknown here,” he says simply. “Whatever you’re becoming, it’s powerful, but until you have full control, we need to be careful how we use it. You said earlier you can feel the pain your mates take?”

I nod, fingers tightening around my cup. “It’s not pain exactly. It’s… like my body reacts when

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theirs does. It builds inside me, demanding I release it. I just don’t know what that release does yet.”

Ronnie hums, considering. “If it’s tied to empathy, it could be a channel. The stronger your emotional connection, the stronger the energy. That can be useful… or dangerous. You’ll need to stay balanced.”

Callen grins. “Balanced. Got it. No winding her up then.”

Parker elbows him lightly. “Like you could resist.”

Their laughter is quiet, relief disguised as humour. Even Ronnie’s lips twitch before he hides it behind his hand. For a moment, the room feels lighter. Then, something shifts in the air, subtle but undeniable.

It starts as a prickle along my spine, a sudden pulse that doesn’t belong to me. My fingers tighten around the cup, and it seems to warm under my touch. The faint hum that’s lived under my skin all morning starts to climb, spreading through my chest like static electricity.

“Paige?” Ryder’s voice is cautious. “What’s happening?”

“I…” My words catch, breath faltering. The world seems to tilt slightly, the edges of the room brightening. The air grows thick, heavy with something I can’t place. “Something’s… different.”

Ronnie’s chair scrapes as he stands. “Paige, look at me. Breathe.”

I try, but the world isn’t cooperating. The room fades at the edges, the light bending, colours twisting. My mates‘ voices sound far away now, distorted like they’re underwater, and then I

see.

At first, it’s flashes… silver trees, blood–soaked soil, and something moving through the shadows, fast and deliberate. The image jerks and flickers like an old film reel, too fast to make sense of. I reach for it instinctively, trying to anchor myself, but it just pulls me deeper.

I’m standing by the creek. The water looks normal, clear enough to reflect the sky, but beneath it, something glows faintly, threads of light twisting like veins under the water’s surface. A man kneels at the water’s edge. His hands are covered in black sludge. When he lifts his head, I see eyes like cold glass, reflecting no light at all.

He whispers something, words I can’t hear, but his tone makes my skin crawl. Then, behind him, the trees shift. Figures move between them, hunters, masked, carrying rifles. One of them raises his weapon toward me, and the world fractures into soundless white.

“Paige!” Someone’s shouting, but it’s distant, echoing through the blur.

gasp, air flooding back into my lungs, and my knees buckle. Hands catch me before I hit the

floor. Everything hurts, my heart hammering too hard, the hum inside me surging until it feels like I’m burning from the inside out.

“Easy,” Ronnie’s voice commands, steady but urgent. “Stay with us. Paige, open your eyes,”

I do, barely. The world swims into focus. Ryder’s holding me, his hands strong against my back, his face awash with worry. Parker crouches on my other side, muttering to himself under his breath. Callen’s knuckles are white where he grips the edge of the table, his wolf close to the surface, and Remy’s already half–shifted, his eyes glowing amber.

Ronnie crouches beside me, his voice calm but sharp. “What did you see?”

I swallow hard, the images still flickering behind my eyes. “The creek,” I whisper. “There was a light in the water… something underneath it… and men… hunters. They were there watching.”

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