"How do you do that?"
I looked up. "Do what?"
"Calm him." Cole uncrossed his arms, gestured at Stone. "He was ready to attack me when I walked in. Now he's half-asleep. What changed?"
"I don't know how to explain it." I considered the question, trying to find words for something that had always felt instinctive. "The bond lets me feel what he's feeling. When he's scared or angry, I can... push back against it, I guess. Send him something calmer. Something that tells him he's safe."
"And he believes you?"
"It's not about belief. It's about the bond. He can feel that I mean it."
Cole was quiet for a moment. His expression didn't change, but something shifted behind his eyes.
"When did you first feel it?" he asked. "The bond with him?"
"The night I met him on the mountain. Before I even saw him in human form, something just..." I shook my head. "Clicked. Like a lock finding its key."
"Has this happened with others? Besides your existing mates?"
The question landed strangely. There was something underneath it—a weight I couldn't quite identify.
"No," I said. "Just the four of them."
Cole nodded slowly. If my answer disappointed him or confirmed something, his face didn't show it.
"The other ferals," he said. "Cal's packmates. They respond to you too."
"Not as strongly. The bond with Stone is different—it's a mate bond. The others are more like... they sense I'm connected to Cal. Part of his pack by extension."
"But they still calm when you're near."
"Yes."
"Why do you think that is?"
I looked down at Stone. At his scarred fur, his too-thin frame, thought about his golden eyes that held so much pain and so much stubborn, desperate life.
"Because I don't give up on them," I said quietly. "Because I keep coming back. Because I look at them and see people instead of monsters."
The silence stretched. When I glanced up, Cole was watching me with an expression I couldn't read.
"You're not what I expected," he said.
"What did you expect?"
He didn't answer. Just pushed off from the wall and moved toward the door.
"Same time tomorrow," he said. "If you're willing."
"I'm willing."
He paused at the door. Looked back at me—at Stone pressed against my side, at my hand buried in his fur, at whatever he saw in my face.
"Thank you," he said. "For letting me see this."
Then he was gone.
Stone lifted his head. Through the bond, I felt his confusion—the threat had left, but something about the interaction had unsettled him.
