Leon nodded slowly. “My grandpa didn’t sleep right either. Different war, same ghosts.”
Karl didn’t reply, but his posture shifted fractionally. Almost, Leon thought fancifully, as if the weight of ghosts was no longer only his to carry. If his understanding had helped, well, he wouldn’t begrudge the wolf that.
“It’s not a problem,” he said. “I’ll keep clear.”
He meant it to sound brisk and professional, but it came out quieter than he expected. Almost… reassuring?
Karl looked at him then, what little light was left illuminating his face in a way a photographer would pay a fortune to achieve. And Leon felt a weird twist in his gut, because for once the wolf didn’t look disapproving. He lookedtired. Human, even.
They fell quiet again, the woods around them hushed, the air growing ever colder as the daylight disappeared.
Leon pulled an emergency blanket around his shoulders and stared into the darkness under the trees. There was no danger there he could detect, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there. He knewbetter than most how fast everything could change—how safety could vanish in a breath, how it had been an ordinary day when he’d been set adrift, alone and confused. It could happen again, any time. All it took was one moment. That was why he stayed alert. Always.
“You sleep first,” Karl said at last.
Leon didn’t answer right away. His instinct was to argue, to insist he’d take the first watch, stay sharp, stay ready.
But Karl was already watching the woods, his whole body poised. Leon recognized the stillness of a predator.
“All right,” he said at last. “Wake me if anything moves out there.”
Karl just nodded.
He shifted, letting the cat take over, fur sliding over skin—a blanket he didn’t have to carry. He curled up, tail coiled tight to retain as much warmth as possible, muscles aching from the day’s exertion. He wouldn’t sleep deeply, because that would mean trusting Karl to keep watch.
But the steady, immovable presence of the wolf beside him, silent and sharp-eyed in the dark, was enough to let go. Just for a while.
KARL
Karl kept watch through most of the night. It wasn’t personal—he didn’t trustanyoneoutside the pack. He knew Leon was competent and attuned to danger in the same way he was. But he didn’t know how Leon responded under pressure, whether he’d act as a shield or a weapon. And trust had to be earned.
He’d given his trust freely once, had followed an order he should have refused, and people under his command had paid theprice. That wasn’t something to be forgotten or forgiven. Not in others, and especially not in himself.
So now, his trust was reserved for members of his pack. People who had proved themselves, time and again, to be worthy of it. It had taken him a long time to trust Matt enough to accept his leadership. Not because Matt hadn’t earned it—he had—but because Karl hadn’t known if he could let go of the reins. Of the need to control everything around him, to make sure no one else got hurt on his watch.
He’d chosen to follow Matt, because Matt’s judgment was steady and sharp, and maybe—just maybe—more reliable than Karl’s own. And that was the only reason he’d been able to relinquish control. Someone had to make the big calls, and Karl couldn’t afford to be the one getting them wrong again.
So he’d submitted to Matt. Willingly, once his decision was made. And although that could change at any time, he didn’t think it would. He trusted Matt in all the ways that counted.
But outside the pack? There was no one else.
So Karl sat through the long stretch of night while Leon slept in cat form, curled against the cold. The jaguar was a shadow even in the dark, a shape barely distinguishable from the rocks and leaves around him. Only the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing marked him as alive. That, and the strange sense Karl had ofpresence—as if even sleeping, Leon was aware.
The air was damp and clinging, and Karl pulled his poncho tighter, muscles locked against the chill. He glanced over at Leon. It would’ve been easy to lie down beside him, to let the warmth and rhythm of another body soften the edge of the night. But easy wasn’t safe.
He listened to the night and thought of his pack. Jesse, trying so hard not to care that the eyes of the world were on him. Tom, who’d settled in fast but who still looked up with longing on hisface whenever an F16 on a training run streaked low over the ranch. Colby, doing everything he could to get beyond his past. When he saw the way Colby still occasionally shrank inside himself, Karl wished he could have that moment of reckoning with Nico all over again, make it last longer.
And the rest of them, working hard, doing the best they could with what they’d been given. Even Riley had slipped easily into the pack, almost as if he were a shifter. At the center, Matt, holding it all together. And Karl wasn’t with them, keeping them safe. Instead, he was up here in the woods chasing threats, just like last time—when he’d left his team behind and come back too late.
He knew they needed eyes on the threat, needed to know what itwas. But each time he breathed, the air felt tight and wrong, like something was misaligned in his ribs. It wouldn’t leave him until he was back with his pack, he knew.
Somewhere near dawn, keeping his eyes open became a struggle.
“Leon.”
He said it quietly, but the cat was almost instantly awake, slinking to his feet, ears pricked and whiskers quivering, searching for the threat.
“Your watch,” Karl said without ceremony, and lying down, closed his eyes.
