Ronan

The trees thin out near the edge of town, but I stay back where the shadows are thick, and the pine needles swallow the sound of my boots. The diner’s neon sign buzzes against the late afternoon gloom. Grease, burnt coffee, sugar—human scents cling to the air like damp wool.

And beneath it all, her.

Aria.

My wolf shifts under my skin, a low rumble vibrating in my chest.

She’s trouble.

I know. But we can’t keep Liam from seeing her while she’s in town for the funeral.

I track Liam’s heartbeat through the diner wall.

Steady.

Controlled.

Too controlled.

It’s the careful subjugation of emotions one gives when he’s getting ready to face an intruder in the middle of the night.

The preparation for anything.

He’s been there twenty-three minutes. Long enough for coffee, a quick meal, and hopefully, long enough for goodbye.

Aria tried to question him, and he defected. It wouldn’t stop the reopening of old wounds, though.

The door chimes.

Liam steps out, shoulders tight, jaw locked. He pauses on the sidewalk without looking toward the tree line.

“You can come out now.”

He says it too low for the humans on the patio to hear. My wolf huffs at their muted senses.

They don’t see me step from between the trees. They don’t notice the way the wind bends subtly around me, carrying their words whether I want it to or not.

I fall into step beside him.

“How was it?” I ask.

He cuts me a look. Not angry. Just tired. “Are we going to pretend you weren’t listening to every word?”

My jaw tightens in an attempt to hold in a smirk.

It’s true. Wolf shifters hear better than humans. Not just better—deeper. I heard the tremor beneath Aria’s voice when she said, “Tell me anything?”

The way Liam’s heart rate slowed in relief when she changed the subject.

It’s not hard to hear conversations a few feet away. Especially for an Alpha.

Wolf shifters sense ten times that of a human, and as an Alpha mine are even more so.

What’s hard is not hearing them.

Most of us only spend the time we need to be around humans. Their noise presses in from all sides—thoughtless confessions, petty lies, the rhythm of blood beneath fragile skin, the scent of their consistent shifting emotions.

It’s exhausting to tune it out even for an experienced shifter. And for the juveniles, it’s so overwhelming that it’s not uncommon for them to have physical reactions to it.

It’s even more tedious controlling our wolf half’s natural reaction.

It’s like muting ourselves.

Necessary, though.

“I know you don’t like this—” I start.

“It’s fine,” Liam says, cutting me off as he pulls open the door to his truck.

It isn’t fine.

I circle the hood and climb into the passenger seat. The engine roars to life, gravel crunching under tires as we pull onto Astral Lane.

Silence stretches between us. Not empty. Weighted.

My wolf settles the moment we pass the old boundary marker carved into stone. The air shifts. Pine and cedar grow richer. The hum beneath my skin evens out.

Home.

As Alpha, the pack lands are my sanctuary. My burden. My purpose. Every cabin tucked between trees with miles of roaming room between and around all belongs to our pack and our ancestors before us.

“No, it’s not,” I say quietly.

Liam grips the steering wheel harder.

I scent it then—distress, sharp and metallic beneath his usual cedar-and-smoke. It spikes the air.

“But it will be once she is gone,” I continue, gently reminding him of what has to happen.

His head snaps toward me. “Ronan.”

I don’t flinch.

“She can’t stay.”

“She’s not staying.”

“She’s digging. In some respects, that’s worse. You know what will happen to her if she finds something she can’t un-know, something she can’t un-see.”

His jaw flexes. He doesn’t deny it.

We pass the first cabins, smoke curling from chimneys. A couple of the younger wolves are sparring near the tree line. They straighten as we drive by.

Finally, Liam exhales. “It just sucks that I have to sit there and let her believe the worst of me. Let her think I don’t care.”

An image rises unbidden.

Blue-grey eyes flashing. Sharp tongue. Chin tilted up at me like she didn’t sense the predator in the room.

Most humans hesitate around us. Around me. Their instincts whisper danger even if their minds don’t understand it.

Not Aria.

She’d stood in that cemetery, told me to “get out of her business.”

My pack had gone still. Shock rippling through them like a stone dropped in water.

My wolf had surged forward.

She challenges us.

She’s human.

Unacceptable.

She will know it, but now is not the time.

That calmed him. Me too, if I’m being honest.

“If I could change it, I would,” I tell Liam. “But never forget your pack is here for you. We will stand with you through anything.”

It sounds almost gentle. It isn’t.

It’s the law.

My pack comes before anything.

Before comfort. Before desire.

Before a human girl with reckless freckles and a stubborn mouth.

We pull up in front of my house. Liam parks but doesn’t kill the engine right away.

“You think she’ll leave?” he asks.

“Yes.”

And if she doesn’t, I’ll make sure she does.

He nods once. Accepting the command beneath the tone.

I open the door, step out, then pause. “I still expect you for dinner.”

His eyes flick to mine.

It’s phrased softly.

It’s not a suggestion.

“I’ll be over at six.”

He drives off toward his own cabin, dust trailing behind him.

I watch until the truck disappears between the trees.

He’s hurt. Both losses will affect him, my wolf assesses.