The next morning dawned with the kind of quiet that almost felt wrong. Sunlight spilled through the cabin’s shutters, warm and golden, painting long stripes across the floorboards. If I let myself, I could pretend the night before hadn’t happened, that the council hadn’t sent their threat, that my world wasn’t teetering on the edge of war.

  But then Fluffy snored so loudly that it rattled the walls, and Bagel yowled at him from the windowsill, tail lashing like a whip.

  I pressed a hand to my face and groaned. “Alright. That’s it. We are getting up for training day.”

  Both sets of ears swiveled toward me. Bagel’s expression made it clear she thought I’d lost my mind. Fluffy just rolled onto his back, exposing his stomach like the world’s largest, most terrifyingly sharp-toothed puppy.

  I gave in for just a few minutes and pet his belly, until I planted my fists on my hips. “Don’t look at me like that. If I’m stuck learning drills every morning until the guys are satisfied, then you two are joining me. Equal suffering.”

  Bagel gave a disdainful chirp, leapt down from the sill, and began washing her paw in a move that was very obviously dismissal.

  “Sit!” I commanded, pointing at Fluffy.

  To my surprise, he did, kind of. His massive hindquarters thudded against the floorboards so hard that the table rattled.

  “Good boy!” I beamed, ignoring Bagel’s offended hiss. “Now… roll over.”

  Fluffy blinked. Then, with the grace of a crumbling building, he flopped sideways. The crash made Bagel leap onto the shelf again with a screech.

  From behind me came a low laugh. I spun to find Riven leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, his mouth curved in a way that made my stomach feel traitorously light.

  “You realize you’re trying to train a cat and…” His gaze slid to Fluffy, who was now upside-down and wagging his tail like he’d won something. “…him?”

  “Not helpful,” I shot back.

  “Entertaining, though.”

  By the time Grabber showed up, my “training session” was already a disaster. Bagel had decided the top of the cupboard was her new throne. Fluffy had learned exactly one command, “shake”, and used it as an excuse to repeatedly smack me in the chest with a paw the size of a dinner plate.

  Grabber froze in the doorway, an armful of kindling stacked against his chest. His scar pulled tight as he stared at me, at Bagel, and at the giant beast sprawled halfway across the floor.

  “…What the hell are you doing?”

  “Bonding,” I said cheerfully, just as Fluffy pawed me again.

  Grabber set the wood down slowly. Then, against all odds, he laughed. Not the sharp bark I usually got, but something quieter, softer. “You’re hopeless.”

  “Don’t encourage her,” Riven muttered, though he hadn’t moved from his spot, clearly enjoying the show.

  That was when inspiration struck.

  If Fluffy couldn’t, or wouldn’t, learn tricks, then maybe he needed a new… identity. Something less terrifying, more approachable. Which was how, an hour later, he ended up in the middle of the cabin wearing what had once been an old blanket tied like a cape.

  “Ta-da! My hero!” I said proudly, stepping back to admire my handiwork.

  Stolen story; please report.

  Fluffy preened, chest puffed, tail sweeping dangerously close to the chairs.

  Bagel, meanwhile, was glaring at me from the table, a ribbon tied around her neck like she was seconds away from declaring mutiny.

  Thorne walked in just in time to see me adjusting Fluffy’s cape. He stopped dead, his expression unreadable. Then, finally: “No.”

  “Yes!” I countered immediately. “Look at him! He looks so strong and heroic.”

  “He looks ridiculous.”

  Grabber barked another laugh. “Hell, I almost like it.”

  Riven rubbed a hand down his face, muttering something I didn’t catch. But I swear his shoulders shook once, like he was fighting a laugh.

  Fluffy thumped his tail again, basking in the attention like he’d just been crowned king.

  For a moment, just a moment, the heaviness in my chest eased.

  The costume lasted exactly twenty minutes before Fluffy tried to chew it off. Still, the laughter lingered even after the cape was in tatters on the floor, a fragile pocket of warmth I wanted to hoard forever.

  But warmth never lasted here. Not for long.

  By midday, Brennar appeared at the cabin door, his face tight. “Meeting,” he said, no preamble. “Now.”

  My heart dropped into my stomach.

  The room they led me to wasn’t some sort of grand hall, thank the gods, but it still felt too large for comfort. A long oak table stretched down the center, scarred by years of claws and tempers. Brennar sat near one end, posture sharp as a blade, with Rowan beside him.

  Three other wolves filled the seats along the sides, older, with faces carved by years of carrying pack burdens.

  My men flanked me as I entered, Grabber at my right, Thorne on my left, and Riven hovering over my shoulder. After I sat, Bagel wasted no time scrambling into my lap, curling smugly, while Fluffy sprawled across my boots, a living barricade of fur and muscle.

  Brennar’s gaze swept the room, his voice clipped. “We’ve all heard the council’s demand. They want Liora.”

  Thorne’s jaw flexed. “We already gave our answer.”

  One of the older wolves leaned forward, his expression grim. “And what of the pack’s answer? You’d risk war for one girl?”

  I bit the inside of my cheek, not appreciating that they couldn’t even use my name while they were talking about me as if I wasn’t even in the room.

  Before the weight of the conversation could crush me, Rowan’s hand slammed against the table. “You’ll watch your tongue.” His voice cut like a whip. “She isn’t one girl. She’s one of us now, and you don’t discard your own.”

  Brennar’s voice followed, smoother but no less certain. “The council doesn’t stop where they say they will. If we bow here, we bow forever. You all know it.” His gaze moved over the room, calm but unyielding. “Better to draw a line now than bleed later.”

  The older wolf’s lips pressed thin. “Fine speeches don’t shield us from their armies.”

  Grabber’s fist hit the table, rattling the wood. “You think this is just about her? They take her, they’ll take more. You’ve seen it. We all have.” His scar pulled taut as his face hardened. “Bowing once means you never stand up again.”

  Riven’s voice followed, quiet, dangerous. “And if anyone here thinks we’d hand her over, try me. See how far you get.”

  The silence that followed was heavy, broken only when Thorne leaned forward, his deep voice like stone dropped into still water.

  “She is under our protection. That isn’t up for debate.”

  The words rang final.

  The meeting ended without consensus, tension coiled thick in the air. The elders left the room slowly, with worry etched on one of their faces, another with hostility, and one who seemed completely indifferent. Rowan and Brennar stayed closest, their presence like a shield at my back.

  As the elders drifted out, I lingered, palms damp. Grabber’s rough hand caught my wrist, grounding me.

  “You did good,” he muttered, voice low, almost gentle.

  I blinked up at him. “I didn’t even say anything.”

  “Didn’t need to.” His thumb brushed over my skin before he let go, reluctant. “You stood there. That’s enough.”

  That night, the air felt wrong. Too still.

  I sat near the fire, Bagel curled warm in my lap, Fluffy pressed heavy against my legs. The crackle of flames filled the silence, steady and ordinary, yet my chest wouldn’t unclench.

  Bagel shifted, restless. She flicked her ears, tail twitching, head jerking toward the door as though listening for something I couldn’t hear.

  I smoothed her fur. “It’s nothing,” I whispered. “Just nerves.”

  But she didn’t settle.

  And for some reason, neither could I.