We’re standing too close now. Close enough that I can smell her scent—frost and pine and winter mornings. Close enough to see the pulse jumping in her throat. Close enough that my wolf is howling inside me, demanding I touch her, claim her, keep her safe at any cost.
I force myself to take a step back before my control shatters.
“We need time to understand what’s happening before you walk back into a situation we don’t fully comprehend. You saw something in that vision, Sera. Something that frightened you enough to leave Llewelyn without telling anyone. Don’t you want to understand what it means?”
“Of course I want to understand. But I also have responsibilities. Llewelyn tradition demands that pack members report threats immediately to leadership. By keeping me here, you’re forcing me to violate that tradition.”
“Llewelyn tradition also says omegas don’t have visions.” I watch her flinch at that truth. “Your pack’s traditions might not account for what you’re experiencing.”
“That’s not your call to make.”
“You’re right. It’s not.” I drag a hand down my face. “But if you go back now, unprepared, without understanding what you saw or why Thornridge wants you, you could be putting yourself and your pack in more danger.”
“Us?” She latches onto the word immediately. “There is no us. You’re a stranger who decided to make decisions for me without my input or consent.”
“I saved your life.”
“And I’m grateful. Truly, I am. But that doesn’t give you the right to control where I go or what I do. Saving someone doesn’t make them your property.”
She’s right. I know she’s right. But every instinct I have screams at me to keep her here, to keep her safe, to make sure nothing else happens to her. My wolf won’t shut up about protecting our mate, about keeping her close where we can defend her.
“You’re experiencing visions about your pack,” I try again, aiming for reason instead of emotion. “Visions that suggest something supernatural is affecting Llewelyn women. Binding them somehow, limiting them. Thornridge knew exactly where you’d be and when. Doesn’t the combination of those facts concern you?”
“Of course, it concerns me. Which is why I need to tell my matriarch. She’s the leader. She makes decisions about pack security and how to respond to threats. Not you. Not some Grayhide historian who thinks he knows what’s best for wolves he’s never even met.”
The words feel hollow even as I speak them. My vision warned me not to tell anyone in Llewelyn—that someone there would try to stop me if I did. But admitting that to Reeyan feels like giving him ammunition. Like proving his paranoid theories right.
“And what if she doesn’t believe you?” The question makes her pause. “About the vision, about the curse. What if she dismisses it?”
She draws her bottom lip between her teeth and nibbles a moment before she replies, “That’s her decision to make.”
“But it affects you.” I take a half-step forward, careful not to crowd her. “You’re having these visions for a reason. You’re seeing something that others aren’t, feeling something that your pack has either forgotten or never knew existed. What if going back there, telling your matriarch about it, puts you in danger we can’t predict? What if whoever cursed Llewelyn doesn’t want anyone breaking free of it?”
“Everything you’re saying is based on what-ifs and maybes. You’re asking me to stay away from my home, from my pack, from my family, based on theories and speculation. That’s not good enough.”
Even as the argument leaves my mouth, I hear how weak it sounds. The vision told me the same thing he's saying now—that telling the wrong person in Llewelyn could be dangerous. I just hate that he's right when I want so badly for him to be wrong.
“I’m asking you to be cautious. To give me time to investigate before you walk back into a potentially dangerous situation. A few days to research historical precedents for curses affecting shifter packs. To analyze Thornridge’s attack patterns and figure out why they wanted you. To give your wolf time to fully recover from the suppressor so you can defend yourself if something goes wrong.”
“You’re not asking,” she points out. “You’re telling. There’s a difference, and I won’t pretend otherwise.”
The accusation hits harder than it should because she’s right. I’m not giving her a choice. I’m making decisions for her based on instincts I can barely understand, let alone explain. Based on a bond she doesn’t even know exists yet.
“You’re right,” I concede with a nod. “I’m not asking. I’m telling you that returning to Llewelyn right now is dangerous, and I won’t be the one to drive you back there until we have more information. Until we understand what’s happening and can ensure your safety.”
“Then I’ll walk.” She turns toward the door. “Or I’ll call Raegan and ask her to come get me. Or I’ll find another way. You can’t keep me here indefinitely.”
“Sera.” Her name comes out like a plea. “Please. Just listen to me for one more minute.”
She stops but doesn’t turn around. “I’m listening.”
“The inter-regional agreement we signed after dealing with Thornridge,” I speak quickly, trying to find an angle that might work. “It authorizes collaborative investigations into potential threats that affect multiple packs. Supernatural threats, since that’s what we faced with the Amanzite manipulation.”
She scrunches her nose and asks, “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Your vision suggests a curse affecting the Llewelyn women. Limiting their emotional range, binding them somehow.” I move around so I can see her face. “Thornridge targeting you suggests they know something about your pack’s vulnerabilities that the rest of us don’t. Both of those fall under the agreement’s jurisdiction as potential supernatural threats requiring inter-pack cooperation.”
Her eyes narrow. “You mean you could legally force me to participate in an investigation.”
