The Fake Luna: Marked By The Alpha King

Chapter 226: Chapter 226 His past

Three days had passed since we’d arrived at Ronan’s territory.

The pack was nothing like what I’d expected. They were traditional.

I’d noticed it the first morning, when I’d ventured downstairs to find breakfast.

The dining hall had been full of pack members—easily fifty or sixty of them—all seated according to some invisible hierarchy I didn’t understand.

The Alpha and his mate at the head table. The Betas and high-ranking warriors along the sides. The younger wolves and omegas toward the back.

Every single one of them had stopped eating when I’d walked in.

Not in a hostile way, exactly. More like... curious. Watchful. Like they were trying to figure out what to make of the human woman who’d arrived with the Alpha King.

I’d felt their eyes on me as I’d crossed to the side table where the food was laid out. Felt the weight of their judgment, their assessment.

And I’d forced myself to keep my chin up and my expression neutral, even though my heart had been racing.

Because showing weakness in a place like this? That was a death sentence.

Damian had told me as much the night before, when I’d asked him about Ronan’s pack.

"They’re traditionalists," he’d said, his voice low and rough from exhaustion.

"They follow the old codes. Respect hierarchy. Value strength above all else. And they don’t trust outsiders easily—especially humans."

"Great," I’d muttered. "So I’m walking into a den of wolves who already think I don’t belong."

"You belong wherever I am." His hand had tightened around mine, his gray eyes fierce. "And anyone who questions that will answer to me."

The conviction in his voice had made something warm and dangerous unfurl in my chest. But it hadn’t stopped the nerves.

Now, on the third day, I was starting to find my footing.

Ronan’s mate, Isla, had been a godsend. She was a tall, striking woman with dark red hair and amber eyes that missed nothing.

She’d introduced herself the second morning, appearing at my door with a tray of tea and a knowing smile.

"The first few days are always the hardest," she’d said, settling into the chair by the window like we were old friends. "Especially for humans. But you’re doing better than most."

"I don’t feel like I’m doing better than most," I’d admitted. "I feel like everyone’s waiting for me to screw up."