"Lumi—"
"If he's going to decide whether Stone lives or dies, he should see what he's actually dealing with." I ran my fingers through Stone's fur, felt him settle slightly under my touch. "When does he want to start?"
"Tomorrow morning."
"Fine. Tell him I'll be here at seven."
Rae studied me for a long moment. Whatever she saw in my face made her nod slowly.
Mr. Cole arrived at exactly seven.
He moved differently in the confined space of Stone's room—still that same controlled economy of motion, but more contained. Aware of his size. Aware of the wolf watching him from the corner with barely concealed hostility.
"Miss Orlav." His voice was low. Quiet. "Thank you for agreeing to this."
"I didn't have much choice."
"There's always a choice." He positioned himself against the far wall, as far from Stone as the room allowed. "I'll stay here. Out of the way. Pretend I'm not here."
"Stone won't pretend you're not here."
"I know." His amber eyes moved to Stone, then back to me. "That's part of what I need to see. And you can just call me Cole, that’s what I’m used to responding to."
I settled into my usual spot on the floor, close to Stone but not touching him. Giving him the option to come to me if he wanted.
He wanted.
Within seconds, he'd crossed the room and pressed himself against my side. His body was tense—coiled tight with the awareness of the stranger in his space—but he didn't growl. Didn't bare his teeth. Just positioned himself between me and Cole like a living barrier.
"He's protective of you," Cole observed.
"He's protective of everyone he cares about."
"But especially you."
I didn't answer. Just started the routine that had become familiar over the past weeks—talking softly to Stone, running my hands through his fur, letting the bond between us settle into something calm and steady.
Cole watched.
Didn't ask questions. Just stood against the wall with his arms crossed, those amber eyes tracking every movement, every touch, every subtle shift in Stone's body language.
It should have been unnerving. Having someone study me like a specimen while I tried to reach the broken wolf beside me. But something about Cole's stillness made it almost bearable. He wasn't fidgeting. Wasn't radiating anxiety or judgment. He was simply... present. Observing without interfering.
And there was something else. A scent I kept catching in the recycled air of Stone's room—warm and unexpected. Vanilla, maybe. Or something close to it. Clean and soothing in a way that seemed out of place in the sterile environment of the Healing Center.
I assumed it was Cole. His shampoo, maybe. Or soap. Every time he shifted his weight or uncrossed his arms, I thought I caught another drift of it, and I found myself breathing deeper without meaning to.
I told myself it was nothing. Just an ordinary smell in a small space.
But something about it tugged at the edge of my awareness. Something I couldn't name.
I pushed the thought away and focused on Stone.
An hour passed. Stone gradually relaxed under my hands, the tension draining from his muscles as the bond did its work. His eyes stayed open—still watching Cole—but the hostility had faded to wariness.
"Can I ask you something?" Cole's voice broke the silence.
"You can ask."
