That non-answer confirms everything.
My wolf surges beneath my skin, claws itching to tear through. But I hold my position. Let the silence stretch between us all.
The pack feels it. Eyes shift from Nova to Marcus to me. Several wolves physically back away from Marcus, creating distance nobody asks for.
But not all. Two of the newer wolves stay rooted near him, watching me like they’re not sure where to stand.
Mateo’s expression hardens from confusion to something unreadable.
Phil reads it too. His scent changes—a thread of acrid concern cutting through confident charm. He leans forward slightly, prepared to redirect.
But the wolves aren’t nodding anymore. They’re watching. Nova stands beside me, her scent mingling with mine in the space between us. Something in that mixture sparks against my senses—honey and smoke and wild things. Wolf-adjacent. Pack-adjacent.
My body responds before my brain processes why—shoulders lowering slightly, stance widening.
Phil notices. His eyes flicks between us, calculating something I can’t decipher. For just a moment, the air around him seems to darken, like shadows gathering despite the overhead lights. Whatever he saw made his expression sharpen with an unnatural intensity.
“I think we’ve all given enough time to misunderstandings for today,” I say finally. “Phil, you’re leaving. Now.”
Phil doesn’t protest. Instead, he smooths the front of his jacket with elegant fingers, like brushing away a minor inconvenience. His posture shifts as he recalculates the situation.
“Of course.” His voice carries that same unnatural calm. “Forgive my presumption.”
He buttons his jacket, movements precise and unhurried. Every eye follows. Something about him demands attention—control through stillness, not force. The air around him feels dense, like standing too close to a thunderstorm.
His scent carries that expensive cologne, but underneath it lurks something colder. Antiseptic. Wrong. My wolf recoils from it even as my human brain struggles to identify the threat.
“A word of advice, freely given,” he says, gaze sweeping the room before landing on me. “Protection requires more thanwalls and teeth. The world is shifting. New alliances are forming. The stubborn ones always fall first.”
His smile returns, too smooth, too practiced.
“And wolves are predictable. But the mixed ones ...” His eyes slide deliberately to Nova. “The ones that linger too long between bloodlines? They’re always the first to burn.”
Nova doesn’t flinch at the threat, but I catch the subtle shift in her posture. Muscles coiling, weight settling. The violet in her eyes deepens, magic stirring beneath the surface like storm clouds gathering.
Phil catches the change in her, his smile widening before he scans the room one last time—everyone watching.
“You’ll call me again. If not now, soon. When the silence starts to sound like weakness.”
He turns. Leaves. No rush. No stumble. Like the room still belongs to him.
The door closes behind him with barely a sound.
Marcus mutters near the kitchen, not looking up. “He wasn’t wrong about everything.”
My jaw locks.
Outside, the air shifts colder as twilight thickens into proper dark. Nova and I step onto the porch.
The compound exhales around us. Lights flicker on. Wolves move, but not in sync.
Ben appears at my side, silent as always. “I’ll take Wyatt and track him to the highway.”
I nod. “Keep your distance.”
“Always do.”
“You should know—I felt something when he passed the first marker. Static in the air, like with Nova. But stronger.”
