“I guess we’ll find out,” I say finally.
He snorts. “I guess we will.”
With that, he brushes past me, deliberately bumping my shoulder as he goes. The childish display would be funny if I didn’t understand the desperation behind it. He’s loved her for years, probably, watching from a distance as she kept everyone at arm’s length. And now some nomad has waltzed in and caught her attention.
I can almost sympathize.
Almost.
I continue my wandering, eventually finding myself in the den’s main hall. It’s a large, open space with high ceilings and massive stone fireplaces at either end. Tables are arranged throughout, some already occupied by wolves eating breakfast or discussing pack business.
My stomach reminds me that I haven’t eaten yet today. I hesitate, then make my way to the serving area where platters of food are laid out buffet-style. I fill a plate—eggs, bacon, toast, fruit—and look for somewhere to sit.
Most tables are occupied, wolves clustered in familiar groups, conversation flowing easily between them. I scan the room, feeling increasingly out of place, when a voice calls my name.
“Kier! Over here.”
Dane waves from a table near one of the fireplaces. Lithia’s twin is sitting with several other wolves I recognize from the security team.
I make my way over, surprised by the invitation.
“Heard you went a round with Ryker this morning,” Dane says as I sit down beside him. “And drew first blood.”
News travels fast in a pack this tight-knit. “Lucky shot.”
One of the other wolves—Felix, I think his name is—snorts. “Lucky shot, my ass. Ryker hasn’t lost a sparring match in three years.”
“Until today,” another adds with a grin.
I shrug, uncomfortable with the attention. “He was probably going easy on me.”
“The Alpha doesn’t know how to go easy,” Dane says, clapping me on the shoulder. “Trust me, if he lost, it’s because you earned it.”
The conversation shifts to upcoming patrol rotations and preparations for the rescue mission, and I’m content to eat my breakfast and listen. It’s… nice. Sitting among wolves who don’t seem to mind my presence, who include me in their jokes and stories without making a big deal of it.
I’m halfway through my meal when Lithia enters the hall.
She moves with the confidence of someone who knows exactly who she is and where she belongs. Her white-blonde hair is short fuzz, emphasizing the sharp lines of her face and the paleness of her eyes. She’s dressed for business—fitted pants, boots, a top that allows for movement without sacrificing style.
Beautiful. Deadly. Perfect.
She scans the room as she walks, nodding to various packmembers who greet her. When her gaze lands on our table—on me—she pauses for the briefest moment before continuing on her way.
Mate,my wolf growls, frustrated.
But I caught the flicker in her eyes, the slight hitch in her breathing. She’s not indifferent—she’s deliberately keeping her distance.
She’s pushing me away,I realize.
Dane notices my attention shift and follows my gaze to his sister. “She’s been in meetings since dawn,” he explains. “Planning the rescue mission.”
“I figured,” I reply, forcing my tone to remain neutral. “Lots to coordinate.”
Dane studies me for a moment. I think he’s about to say something but instead he turns away, laughing at something Felix has said.
A shiver runs down my back, and I glance over my shoulder to see Lithia approaching our table, her expression carefully neutral as she greets us.
“Morning,” she says to the table at large, carefully avoiding direct eye contact with me. “I need volunteers for a reconnaissance run to the eastern facility. We need updated intelligence before we commit to a rescue operation.”
