The rental house sat on a quiet street—three bedrooms, clean lines, anonymous. I signed the lease with Luna authority, the bank account Gabriel had established carrying more zeros than I'd ever imagined.
‘Shelter. Territory,’ Elsie approved. ‘Count the exits. Scent the thresholds. His provision means safety—take it. We’ll make this den ours.’
"Money solves immediate problems," Derek said, checking window locks for the third time. "Not the real ones."
My mother disappeared into her room, exhaustion carved into every line of her face. I caught Derek's arm before he could follow.
"How bad is it really?"
He set down his weapon, meeting my eyes directly. "Initial casualties were severe. We lost the southern defensive line in the first hour."
"And now?"
"Gabriel reached the Iron Claw Pack. You know them?"
"Only by reputation. They've never allied with anyone."
"Because they've never needed to." Derek moved to the window, scanning the street. "Three hundred warriors, all trained from birth. They don't join conflicts—they end them."
"Why didn’t Gabriel tell me about this?" I ask aloud, more to myself than to him.
"An Alpha has every right to keep strategically critical plans to himself," Derek answers. "With anyone."
I fell silent, wondering if Nate had known—or if, even then, Gabriel hadn’t trusted him either. "Why would they help us?"
"Gabriel saved their heir five years ago. Blood debt." He turned back to me. "When Iron Claw arrives, the odds shift. Barrett's three packs against our two—but Iron Claw counts for more than numbers."
I exhaled slowly. "When?"
"Soon. They were mobilizing when I left."
Soon.
The word became my anchor and my torture.
Seven days bled together. No phones—too easily tracked. No pack links—too much distance. The silence pressed against my skull like a physical weight.
"Katherine, I'm pregnant with Derek's baby," Lily announced from the couch.
I stared at the wall. And I can see nothing.
"Also, I've decided to become a werewolf myself. Do you bite me, or is there paperwork?"
Nothing.
"And I'm marrying your mother tomorrow. We're eloping to Vegas."
"That's nice," I murmured, not processing a single word.
"Jesus, Kat." Lily grabbed my shoulders. "You're disappearing."
"No, I'm right here."
"No, you're not. You haven't been here for days."
The doorbell shattered the afternoon stillness and I flew from the couch, Derek's hand catching my wrist.
"Let me." He checked the peephole, hand on his concealed weapon. "Food delivery."
"We ordered Thai," Mother reminded me gently. "Remember? You said you'd try to eat."
The containers spread across the table—pad thai, spring rolls, curry that should have smelled incredible. I pushed rice around my plate, each grain feeling like sand in my mouth.
"You've lost weight," my mother said. "Your clothes hang wrong."
"I'm fine."
"Bullshit." Lily grabbed my hand. "When did you last actually eat? Not pick at food—actually eat?"
"I can't." The admission scraped out. "It sits in my stomach like stones. Every bite reminds me they could be dead and I'm here eating takeout."
‘Eat,’ Elsie snapped. ‘You’re starving us. Grief won’t feed a wolf—food will. If he calls, we run. We need fuel, not penance.’
I rubbed my temples. ‘When did you start talking this much?’ I thought at her.
‘When you stopped listening to your body,’ she huffed.
"Starving yourself won't save them," Derek said bluntly. "It just makes you weak when they need you strong."
"They don't need me at all. I'm hidden away while they bleed."
"Because you alive matters more than—"
"Fucking don't." I stood, the chair scraping. "Don't tell me I matter more. Not when Gabriel might be—" I caught myself. "When any of them might be already dead."
That night, exhaustion finally dragged me under. The dreams came immediately—Gabriel torn apart, Nate's eyes vacant, the pack house nothing but ash.
Then suddenly heat pressed against my back. Arms circled my waist. And then the scent hit—pine and storm and blood and him.
My eyes flew open and I twisted in the embrace. Gabriel's face filled my vision—exhausted, scarred, alive.
The cry that tore from my throat probably woke the entire neighborhood. "GABRIEL!"
"Shh." His hand covered my mouth, but he was smiling. "You'll bring every human running."
I grabbed his face, fingers tracing new scars. "You're real. You're here… You're—"
"Alive." He caught my hands. "Battered, possibly missing some non-essential pieces, but alive."
"It’s not a dream…" I breathed, laughter breaking on a sob. "You’re here."
I pressed my forehead to his, drinking in his scent like oxygen.
‘He’s alive,’ Elsie sang, bright and certain. ‘Our mate. Ours. Safe.’
"Thank you," I whispered to anyone listening—moon, fate, dumb luck—while he kissed my knuckles. "Thank you for coming back to me."
"Always," he murmured, pulling me closer. "Always back to you."
I nuzzled his jaw, ridiculous with relief, cheeks wet and smiling. "Never leave my bed again."
"Bossy," he teased, eyes soft. "But noted."