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"That's bullshit," he said, but there was no heat in it. He came down the steps and nearer to me. I resisted moving away. "You don't have to prove anything, you know."

"Don't I?" I couldn't keep the bitterness from my voice. "My father left a mess. I need to clean it up."

"By getting yourself killed?" Danny moved closer still, close enough that I could see the flecks of gold in his eyes, the purple bruise on his temple. "That's not cleaning up a mess. That's martyrdom."

I stiffened. "What do you care, anyway? You made it pretty clear what you think of me."

Danny flinched, guilt flashing across his face. "I didn't mean what I said." He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture I'd noticed he made when he was nervous. "I was an asshole. I was scared and in pain, and I lashed out at the one person who's done nothing but help me. And I'm sorry."

The apology caught me off guard. I hadn't expected it, especially not after everything that had happened. I glanced at Kaylan, who was trying not to look like he could hear every word.

"It's fine," I said automatically, the response ingrained from years of absorbing my father's abuse.

"No, it's not fine," Danny insisted, stepping even closer. "Nothing about what I said was fine. I was wrong, and I hurt you."

I looked away, uncomfortable with his intensity. "Why are you telling me this now?"

"Because I don't want you to go off and face some monster thinking no one would care if you didn't come back." His voice cracked slightly. "Because I would care."

Something warm and dangerous unfurled in my chest—something that felt too much like hope. I tamped it down quickly. Hope was for people who had futures, not for bears with death sentences hanging over their heads.

"You barely know me," I said quietly.

Danny's expression softened. "I know enough. I know you’re loyal to the pack. I know you pulled me from a wrecked car and held me. I know you went to my school and saved my job. I know you arranged a car for me and got me a new phone." He took a deep breath. "And I know you look at me sometimes like...like I matter."

The simple honesty in his voice made my chest ache. "You do matter."

"So do you," he countered. "Which is why you can't go off and get yourself killed."

I sighed, looking over his shoulder at the packhouse where my bears were waiting. "What would you have me do, then? This thing—this revenant—it's not going to stop."

"Then we stop it together," Danny said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "That's what packs do, right? They face threats together?"

"You said you're not pack," I reminded him gently.

Danny's jaw set in that stubborn way I was coming to recognize. "Maybe not officially. But Emery is my family, which makes Phoenix family too. And if they're your friends, then that makes you my fa—"

He stopped, a flush creeping up his neck. I waited, not daring to breathe.

"My friend," he finished lamely, though something in his eyes suggested he'd been about to say something else entirely.

I should have kept my distance. Should have nodded politely and walked away. But Danny was looking at me with those earnest eyes, and I was so damn tired of being alone.

"Okay," I said finally. "But I still need to be the one to face it."

"With backup," Danny insisted. "Lots of backup."

I almost smiled at his determination. "You planning on joining the hunting party?"

But before he could answer, an alarm sounded, shrill and screaming in the night air, one I hadn’t heard for many months.

The high-pitched wail cut through the night, a sound I'd come to associate with only one thing: silver-skins breaching the territory. Danny's eyes widened in alarm.

"What is that?" he shouted over the noise.

"Silver-skin alarm," I said, already moving. "Get inside. Now!"

The pack erupted into organized chaos. Wolves streamed from the packhouse, some already shifting mid-stride, their clothes tearing as fur burst through skin. Phoenix emerged on the porch, Emery behind him.