Chapter 6
By the time Rory came downstairs, the kitchen was alive with the smell of grilled chicken and rosemary. Melissa stood at the stove, turning vegetables in a skillet, while Hope moved around the counter, setting plates and glasses of iced tea.
"Perfect timing," Melissa said over her shoulder. "Sit. Food's almost done."
Rory blinked. "You two made lunch together?"
Hope looked back with a small smile. "Your mom cooks; I follow orders. It worked out."
Rory took a seat at the table, watching them move easily around each other—the kind of domestic rhythm that should have felt normal but didn't. It was too new, too strange, and somehow… nice.
Melissa slid the pan to the counter and divided the food. "Chicken, roasted potatoes, and green beans. Nothing fancy, but it'll do."
They sat together, passing bowls and plates, the clink of cutlery filling the quiet. It wasn't awkward; it was cautious, a testing ground. Hope talked a little about the school and what it was like to help run it, Melissa asked questions, and Rory mostly listened, taking in the way Hope's hands moved as she spoke.
When the first wave of hunger passed, Melissa leaned her elbows on the table. "All right, Hope," she said, "tell us about this school of yours…"
Hope set her fork down, folding her hands. "The Salvatore Boarding School for the Young and Gifted," she began. "It's in Mystic Falls, Virginia. It's a refuge for supernatural students—witches, vampires, werewolves, and others who don't fit anywhere else. It's a place to learn control, to be safe, actually to belong."
Rory snorted lightly. "Sounds like Hogwarts, but with more blood."
Hope chuckled under her breath. "That's… not far off. But it's real. And it works. I help run it with Alaric Saltzman, the headmaster. He's the one who wants to meet you."
Melissa nodded for her to continue, her curiosity piqued.
Hope's tone softened. "There are classes, mentors, and training. It's not just about powers—it's about learning who you are without losing yourself in the process. You'd have people around who get it."
Rory tilted her head, skeptical. "People who'd poke and prod until they figured out why I'm not just a normal wolf."
"No," Hope said quietly. "People who'd help you stop being afraid of it."
That silenced the table. The words hung in the air between them, heavy and honest.
Melissa reached across the table and squeezed her daughter's wrist. "You should at least hear them out, Rory. Go to this meeting. If you don't like what you see, you come home. No one's forcing you."
Rory hesitated, then nodded once. "Fine. But I'm not going alone."
She stood, grabbing her phone from the counter, scrolling through her contacts. "If this affects me, it affects my pack."
Hope tilted her head. "You mean—?"
"All of them," Rory said, already typing. "Stiles, Lydia, Derek, Malia, Kira, Isaac, Ethan, Aiden. Everyone who stayed when Scott and Allison didn't."
She hit send on the group message: Pack meeting. Noon. Preserve the backroad entrance. Non-negotiable.
Her phone buzzed almost instantly with confirmations. Rory tucked it back into her pocket and looked up to find both Hope and Melissa watching her with quiet amusement.
"What?" she asked.
Melissa shrugged. "That tone of voice—it's pure Alpha."
Hope's smile turned proud. "Told you."
Rory rolled her eyes, though the corner of her mouth betrayed a smile. "Whatever. If I'm doing this, I need food first."
Melissa nudged a fresh plate toward her. "Then finish up. You're going to need your strength."
They ate until only crumbs and empty glasses were left. The easy rhythm of shared silence settled in—just forks scraping, sunlight spilling across the table, the sound of wind shifting outside the window.
When the last dish was cleared, Melissa stacked the plates by the sink. "You two should get going if you want to make that meeting on time."
Hope nodded, sliding her jacket on. "Thanks for lunch—and for trusting me."
Melissa gave a small smile. "Just keep my daughter safe."
"I will," Hope said, voice steady. "Always."
Rory grabbed her keys from the hook by the door and nodded toward the driveway. "Come on, Tribrid. Let's go convince your headmaster I'm not a mistake."
Hope followed her out, a faint grin tugging at her mouth. "Something tells me he's the one who'll need convincing."
The door closed behind them, leaving the scent of garlic and promise lingering in the kitchen.
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The road that cut through the Preserve was long and winding, sunlight filtering through the trees in gold-dappled bursts. The hum of the car engine filled the silence between them, a steady rhythm that almost matched the pulse Rory could feel thrumming faintly at the back of her mind.
Hope sat in the passenger seat, one arm resting against the window, her gaze flicking between the passing trees and Rory's face. The air between them was warm—not awkward anymore, but charged with something that wouldn't fade.
You're quiet, Hope's voice came, not out loud this time. It was soft but clear, brushing through Rory's thoughts like a whisper through fog.
Rory's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "Don't do that," she muttered.
Do what?
"That—talking in my head thing. It's weird."
Hope's lips curved. You can answer back, you know. If you try.
Rory shot her a look. "Nope. Not happening. The last thing I need is you rooting around up here." She tapped her temple for emphasis.
Hope chuckled, out loud this time. "Fine. I'll keep the psychic commentary to a minimum. For now."
Rory rolled her eyes, but a reluctant smile tugged at her mouth.
A few minutes passed before Hope spoke again, her tone softer now. "So… tell me about your pack. You said you were calling everyone to the meeting. Who am I about to meet?"
Rory exhaled slowly, keeping her eyes on the road. "It's a lot of personalities. You'll see."
"I can handle it," Hope said, sounding almost amused.
Rory snorted. "We'll see about that." She took a breath. "Derek Hale—my older brother. He's the brooding one. Protective, quiet, total hardass but… he's family."
Hope smiled faintly. "I like him already."
"Then there's Stiles Stilinski," Rory went on. "Human, but don't let that fool you. He's basically my brother. Mouthy, brilliant, neurotic, completely fearless when it matters."
"Human and fearless," Hope murmured. "That's rare."
"Yeah, that's Stiles." Rory's lips twitched. "Then there's Lydia Martin—Banshee. Genius-level IQ, my best friend, and the reason I ever pass math. She's also terrifying when she's mad."
Hope arched a brow. "Remind me not to make her mad."
"Good plan."
Rory slowed slightly as the trees grew thicker, sunlight breaking in thinner streaks. "Then there's Malia Tate—my cousin. Werecoyote. Short temper, zero filter, and will literally throw someone through a wall if she thinks they're a threat."
Hope laughed quietly. "You're really selling me on meeting these people."
Rory ignored the tease, continuing. "Kira Yukimura—Thunder Kitsune. Sweetest person you'll ever meet, but she can fry an entire power grid if she sneezes wrong."
Hope's eyes widened, impressed. "I've never met a Kitsune before."
"She's one of a kind," Rory said softly. "Then there's Isaac Lahey—werewolf, sarcastic, big heart, used to have a crush on Allison. Still does, I think."
Hope's gaze flicked to her. "That doesn't bother you?"
Rory shrugged. "Not anymore. I want him to be happy. He deserves that."
Hope nodded, studying her face for a moment longer before asking, "And the others?"
"Ethan and Aiden Steiner," Rory said, her voice lightening again. "Twins. Former enemies, now friends. Werewolves. They've mellowed out since the whole trying-to-kill-us thing."
Hope's mouth twitched. "Reformed murderers in the pack. Great."
Rory laughed, the sound unguarded this time. "Welcome to Beacon Hills."
For a while, silence settled comfortably again, filled only by the sound of the tires on the road. Hope glanced out the window, then spoke softly. "You love them. All of them."
Rory's hand flexed on the wheel. "They're my family. The only one that stuck."
Hope's heart tugged in her chest, the echo of Rory's emotion flickering through their bond—fierce loyalty, protectiveness, and the faint ache of someone who's lost too much too soon.
Without meaning to, Hope reached out and brushed her fingers over Rory's hand on the gearshift.You don't have to do everything alone anymore, she thought.
Rory glanced at her, brow furrowing. "You're doing it again."
Hope smiled faintly. "Couldn't help it."
Rory sighed, but her voice was softer now. "You're lucky you're hot."
Hope smirked. "I'll take that as a compliment."
They drove on, the road narrowing as it wound toward the clearing where the meeting would take place. The closer they got, the stronger the pull between them felt—an invisible thread humming just beneath their skin, anchoring them together.
Neither of them said another word, but the silence didn't need filling. The bond spoke for them now.
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Rory pulled into the Preserve clearing first, gravel crunching under the tires. The clearing was still empty—no cars, no pack, no irritated headmaster. Just quiet woods, sunlight filtering through branches, and the hush before a storm of opinions.
Hope stepped out first, stretching slightly, the breeze tugging at her hair. Rory leaned against the car door, arms crossed, studying her.
"So," Rory said, kicking a pebble with her boot, "is Mystic Falls actually as weird as everyone online says it is?"
Hope snorted. "Worse."
Rory raised a brow. "Worse than Beacon Hills?"
Hope thought about it, then nodded. "Different flavor of catastrophic, but yeah."
That pulled a laugh from Rory—quick, small, real.Hope watched the sound brighten her entire face, warmth flickering through their bond.
Rory pretended she didn't feel it.
She cleared her throat. "You… uh… sure you're ready for this? My pack can be a lot."
Hope leaned back beside her against the car. "I grew up with the Mikaelsons. I can handle 'a lot.'"
Rory blinked. "Okay… fair."
She hesitated then, chewing her lip, fingers fidgeting with her car keys. The breeze rustled the trees overhead, but between them the air went very still.
"Hope," Rory said quietly, not looking at her, "I need to… ask something before everyone shows up."
Hope straightened, heart tightening at the nervous edge in her voice. "Ask me anything."
Rory exhaled hard."Yesterday was… a lot. And today is… more."She swallowed."What… what are we now? One-night stands? Dating? Girlfriends? Friends with benefits? God—just friends?"
Her voice cracked on the last option, like the possibility physically hurt.
Hope didn't hesitate.She stepped closer, close enough their shoulders brushed, close enough Rory's heartbeat brushed her mind through the bond.
"Rory," she said softly but with absolute seriousness, "we're not one-night stands. And you're not just someone I hooked up with. Not when I can feel your heartbeat in my chest. Not when every part of me wants you close."
Rory's breath hitched.
Hope's eyes softened, but her voice stayed firm."We're more. We don't have labels yet—and that's okay. But I'm not letting you go. Not after what we are. Not after what we feel."
Rory stared at her, throat working, the bond humming low between them like a second pulse.
"Okay," Rory whispered.And it wasn't agreement—It was relief.
They stood quietly for a moment, the breeze picking up, carrying pine and earth and something softer—something new between them.
Then the first car rolled into the clearing.
A blue Jeep.
Rory straightened. "Stiles and Lydia."
Stiles tumbled out before the engine fully stopped. "RORY! Why are we here? Are we fighting something? Should I have brought a bat? I should've brought a bat."
Lydia stepped out more gracefully. "You brought three," she said flatly, opening the trunk to reveal exactly that.
Stiles pointed at Hope. "Who this the girl? The new girlfriend? Where, when, why did —"
"Stiles," Rory snapped, "stop talking."
Hope lifted a polite hand. "Hi. I'm Hope."
Stiles squinted. "You're pretty."
"Stiles," Lydia hissed, dragging him back by the collar.
Another vehicle pulled up—Isaac, Malia, and Kira.Then came Ethan and Aiden on matching motorcycles.And finally, Derek's black Camaro rolled in like a warning.
One by one, they stepped into the clearing, forming a loose half-circle around Rory.
Her pack.
Her family.
Rory exhaled slowly. "Everyone… this is Hope."She kept her voice neutral.She kept her face unreadable.She did not mention soulmates.
Hope nodded at them. "It's nice to meet you all."
"That remains to be seen," Derek said, arms crossed, tone dry enough to scratch stone.
Rory cleared her throat and launched into the explanation."Okay, so—Hope goes to the Salvatore Boarding School. It's basically a supernatural academy. A… safe place, from what I understand. They train witches, vampires, werewolves, other… types."
Hope picked up smoothly, filling the gaps."We teach control, history, spellwork, combat if you need it, and personal development. You'd get a mentor, a support system. The school is warded—no hunters get in unless invited."
Kira perked up. "There's Kitsune representation?"
"We've had a few," Hope said with a smile.
Isaac raised a hand. "Dorm rooms?"
"Single or double," Hope answered.
Stiles narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Wi-Fi?"
"Better than yours," Hope said dryly.
Stiles gasped. "Impossible."
Ethan leaned toward Aiden. "I like her."
Aiden nodded. "She has a vibe."
Then Malia stepped forward, eyes sharp and protective, arms folded across her chest.
"What's going on between you and Rory?" she demanded.
Rory stiffened. "Malia—"
"No," Malia said, gaze pinned on Hope. "I want to hear it from her."
Hope glanced at Rory, felt the spike of panic through their bond, and stepped forward carefully.
Her voice was steady, respectful. "We met yesterday."
"That's vague," Malia snapped.
Hope nodded. "Yes. And we… clicked. Fast. There's a connection between us. Something strong. And I'm not walking away from it."
Malia narrowed her eyes. "Are you going to hurt her?"
Hope didn't flinch. "No."
"Because if you do," Malia added, "I'll rip your arms off."
"That's fair," Hope replied calmly.
Rory groaned into her hands.
Rory covered her face. "Can we PLEASE not threaten the girl I'm… whatevering with?"
Stiles whispered, "Did she just use the word 'whatevering'?"
Derek stepped forward next, expression unreadable. "What exactly are your intentions with my sister?"
Hope didn't blink. "To protect her. To stand with her. And to make sure she knows she's not alone."
Rory's throat tightened.
Hope wasn't lying.
She wasn't performing.
She meant every word.
Lydia exchanged a glance with Kira, then whispered, "She's serious."
Malia sniffed the air. "And she's telling the truth."
Stiles nodded like that settled everything.
Derek's gaze flicked between them, assessing… calculating… then he gave the smallest single nod.
Rory almost sagged with relief.
Hope exhaled, shoulders easing.
Just as Alaric's car pulled into the clearing. Gravel crunched. Doors slammed.
Everyone turned. Hands in pockets. Expression wary.
Eyes flicking between Hope and the pack.
"Well," he said dryly, "looks like everyone's here."