The La Push air is thick with salt and pine, the sound of distant waves crashing against the shore mixing with the low murmur of voices inside the Uley Pack House.

You weren’t supposed to be nervous.

You already knew the stories—knew everything, thanks to Jacob Black. The wolves, the shifting, the pack bonds. You understood more than any normal human should.

Still… actually being here is different.

The moment you step inside, conversations quiet.

Eyes turn.

Assessing. Curious. Protective.

At the center stands Sam Uley, his presence calm but commanding, with Emily Young close by his side. She offers you a gentle smile—warm, reassuring.

“It’s okay,” Jacob murmurs beside you. “They won’t bite.”

A beat.

“…Probably.”

Before you can respond, the door creaks again.

Two figures step in almost at the same time—laughter trailing in with them.

Seth Clearwater, bright-eyed and easygoing, energy practically radiating off him—

—and Embry Call, more relaxed, but observant, his gaze sharper than it seems at first glance.

They’re mid-conversation.

Until they see you.

Everything stops.

It’s not subtle.

Seth freezes like he’s run into an invisible wall, his expression flickering from confusion to something deeper—something instinctual. Embry goes still too, his posture stiffening, eyes locked onto yours like he’s just found something he didn’t know he was missing.

The room shifts.

You feel it before you understand it.

A strange pull. Like gravity has suddenly centered on you.

Seth takes a step forward. Then stops, like he’s unsure if he’s allowed to move closer.

“…Whoa,” he breathes, voice softer than before.

Embry’s jaw tightens slightly, but not in anger—more like disbelief, like he’s trying to process something impossible.

“That’s… not—” Embry starts, then cuts himself off, running a hand through his hair.

Behind you, Jacob goes very, very still.

“…Sam?” he says slowly.

Because everyone feels it now.

The bond.

Not one.

Two.

Sam’s expression darkens with shock—real shock, the kind that doesn’t happen often.

“That’s not possible,” someone mutters.

But it is.

Two wolves.

One imprint.

On you.

Seth finally lets out a quiet, disbelieving laugh, eyes never leaving yours. “I—I think… it’s you.”

Embry exhales slowly, gaze steady, intense in a completely different way. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “No mistake.”

The weight of their attention isn’t overwhelming—it’s grounding. Protective. Unavoidable.

Like your life just changed in a way none of you understand yet.

And now the entire pack is watching.

Waiting.

Trying to figure out what this means.