Ethan is behind me then, his presence a furnace at my back. He moves like water—smooth, inevitable—into the space where my body tightens. His hand finds the blanket and then my shoulder, hard and steady. He doesn’t pull me back. He anchors me.
“We have company,” Miguel says, low and angry.
I look up. Out by the lane, headlights pause like two watchful eyes, caught in the rain. They don’t move.
Someone is watching the ranch from the dark.
3
ETHAN COLE
The circle smelled of wet fur and woodsmoke and old rules.
I tasted iron and fear before anyone spoke. The den beneath the ridge was hollowed out the way wolves hollow things—a place for trust measured in teeth and loyalty. Tonight it felt smaller. Closer. Everyone's eyes were on me like a tide waiting to break.
"Why bring a human into our borders?" Rowan asked. Gravel in his voice. He sat across from me with his hands flat on his knees, jaw tight. His mate—gone years ago—had left a scar he wore like armor. He'd seen what outsiders could do; his caution was appetite.
Miguel was on my left, restless, hooded-eyed. He'd been the first to the ranch after Nora and Jamie arrived. He'd argued we couldn't close the door on people who needed shelter. He believed in protection that didn't end in blood.
"I didn't bring her for myself," I said, keeping my voice level. That was the point of the meeting—keep the tone even, the decisions rational. "Nora Hayes came to the ranch with a boy who needed help. She asked for work. She asked for safety. Temporary. Paid. References pending. Background checks."
Rowan's laugh was small and mean. "You ask for safety, and you bring a human into the pack's den. You ask for references for a stranger who set your scent on fire the moment she crossed your porch."
Heat climbed under my skin. Rowan always went straight to whatever I tried to lock down. "This isn't about scent," I said.
My wolf didn't agree. He'd been quiet since I lost everything. Quiet had kept me alive. Then Nora arrived, rain-soaked and steady, a boy with a bruise of grief in his smile, and quiet became a lie.
Rowan leaned forward. "Our rules are clear. Mating outside lineage risks?—"
"It doesn't yet," I cut him off. The words came too sharp. Admitting anything felt like weakness. "She's not asking to be claimed. She came because she had nowhere else. We can give her shelter while we do due diligence. And the boy—he's a child. We have an obligation."
A stifled sound on my right. Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose. I felt him watching for the tremor that meant I'd break. They'd seen me break before. They weren't keen to see it happen again.
"Obligation," Rowan repeated. "Or risk."
"Both." I let the word hang like a promise. "We do it fast. Vet the papers. No sleeping in common spaces. No strangers in the house. Trial through Friday. If her references check out, we decide then."
"You'd breach protocol," Rowan said. "For what? A tidy conscience?"
"For a boy who needs a place to sleep through a storm." Blunt and true. "And for a woman who—" I stopped. I didn't want to say that her scent made the space behind my ribs ache like a fresh wound. I didn't want to admit the pull of her was a roar in the dark that threatened to drown anything sensible.
Rowan's mouth thinned. "And if she's bait? If bringing her in brings attention? The sheriff's already been sniffing around. He saw a car on the lane last night."
That earned a murmur. We'd called the sheriff in the morning about a stranger near the farmhouse; it was small-town routine. To Rowan, anything could become a wedge. He wanted the pack closed. I needed it open enough to do right.
"I will handle the sheriff," I said. "I'll keep the county from poking their hands in until we have cause. But we won't turn a kid out on the road."
Rowan's eyes flicked to Miguel, who nodded once. The vote wasn't unanimous; nothing worth saving ever was. Still, a majority stops arguments from repeating. I felt the weight lift by a breath.
Then Nora stood.
She'd been sitting by the bark wall, hands folded, small and steadier than she looked. When she walked into the center of the circle the den tilted, the air changing like the first roll of thunder. Her scent folded around me like a warm cloth. For a second I forgot to breathe.
"You can ask me questions," she said. Reserve that cut glass. "I'll answer them. I'm not asking for charity. I'm asking for work. I can start tomorrow. I can drop Jamie at school. I can?—"
"What's your status with the county?" Rowan asked. "You're not the child's guardian on paper."
Nora didn't flinch. "I'm an emergency caregiver. The mother's sister—she couldn't. A social worker's file is open. It hasn't been closed in our favor yet. I can produce documentation. I can get references."
