The grand dining hall stretched before them, a vast space filled with long tables and benches, packed with members of Damien's pack. As Annie walked besides him, holding Ryan's tiny hand, she could feel the weight of the crowd's stares bearing down on her. The once-quiet murmur of conversation dwindled to hushed whispers, and Annie didn't need to listen closely to catch the hostile glances that followed her every step.
"Is that her?"
"That's Damien's mate? The one who disappeared?"
"Why is she here now?"
The whispers, tinged with curiosity and judgement, pricked at Annie's nerves. Her shoulders tensed, but she kept her gaze forward.
Then, as they continued deeper into the hall, something shifted. The whispers softened, and soon, a different kind of murmur filled the space—admiration.
"Look at him... He's just like Damien."
"He's adorable!"
"Spitting image of his father."
