Liam left the room a few minutes later.
He did not rush. He did not slam the door. He just stepped out into the hallway and let it close behind him, the soft click echoing faintly in the quiet corridor. The pack house was always busy in its own way. Not loud, not chaotic, just alive. Low voices somewhere in the distance. Footsteps on wood. The smell of food, cleaning products, and the faint wild scent that never really left a place filled with werewolves.
He walked slowly, hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed but his mind not as calm as he pretended.
A few people passed him.
Some of them looked at him curiously. They had not seen him before.
Others looked at him differently.
They remembered.
Four days ago when Irina introduced him to the pack. The tension in the air. The testing stares. The way some of them had circled him quietly like predators sizing up prey. He had not backed down. Not even a little. He had met their eyes one by one like he belonged there.
