He released his grip.
The feral crossed the clearing in quick, unsteady steps. He stopped a few feet away, chest heaving, eyes locked on my face.
"It's okay," I said quietly. "You're safe here."
He whined again. Dropped to his knees.
And pressed his forehead to my thigh.
The clearing went silent.
I felt everyone's eyes on me. Cole's sharp attention. Neal's clinical interest. Rae's growing concern. James's protective tension.
I didn't know what to do. Didn't know what this meant or why they were responding to me like this.
So I just stood there. Let Gray lean against my leg on one side and the young feral press his face to my other thigh. Let their weight ground me while my heart pounded in my chest.
"Okay," Rae said finally. Her voice was carefully controlled. "Let's... let's get started."
The shift happened in waves.
Cal went first, his transformation smooth and practiced. One moment he was standing beside me in human form; the next, a massive tawny wolf shook out his fur and huffed at me, gold eyes bright with something that looked almost like amusement.
Stone followed. His shift was rougher, more painful—I felt echoes of it through the bond, the crack of bones reshaping, the stretch of skin becoming fur. But when it was done, a dark gray wolf stood in his place, larger than Cal, his eyes fixed on me with fierce intensity.
Gray shifted next. His wolf was smaller, leaner, the color of ash and smoke. He stayed close to my legs, unwilling to stray more than a few feet.
The other ferals shifted too. The one who'd knelt before me became a sandy-colored wolf, his movements still restless but less frantic than before. The other two were darker—one black, one brown—and they hung back at the edges of the clearing, wary but watchful.
The wolves had arranged themselves around me in a loose semicircle, all of them oriented in my direction. Like I was the sun and they were satellites, unable to escape my gravity.
It should have felt strange. Instead, it felt... right.
"Let's move," Cole's voice crackled through Rae's radio. "Heading northwest. Keep the pace easy."
We started walking.
The forest swallowed us within minutes. The canopy filtered the morning light into dappled patterns on the ground, and the air smelled of pine and damp earth and the wild musk of wolves.
Neal fell into step beside me. Close enough that our shoulders brushed with every few strides.
"How are you feeling?" he asked quietly.
"Overwhelmed."
"Understandable." His hand found the small of my back. A brief touch, gone almost as soon as it registered, but the bond between us flared warm. "You're doing well. They're calmer than I've ever seen them."
James was on my other side, a few feet away, moving through the underbrush with practiced ease. He kept his eyes on the wolves, but I felt his attention on me. The bond between us was a constant presence—steady, protective, ready to act if anything went wrong.
Stone's wolf padded closer. His shoulder brushed my hip as he walked, and a low rumble vibrated through his chest. Not a growl. Something softer. Possessive.
The sandy-colored wolf noticed.
He'd been trailing behind me, keeping his distance but never letting me out of his sight. Now he crept closer, head low, tail tucked—submissive posture, non-threatening.
He just wanted to be near me.
Stone's head whipped around.
