The territory border was quiet at night.
Kairi walked the perimeter trail with her hood pulled up, one hand resting on her belly, the other holding a small pack of provisions. The pup had been restless all evening, kicking against her ribs like it could sense her restlessness too. She needed air. Space. Distance from the pack house where Liam's scent still clung to the furniture and Sloan's laughter still echoed in her memory.
Her wolf prowled beneath her skin. Alert. Watchful.
*We're close,* Kaia murmured. *The evidence is almost complete.*
Kairi nodded to herself. Nia had spent the last two nights reviewing the mind-link recordings, cross-referencing timestamps with patrol logs, building a timeline so airtight that even the Lycan Council couldn't dismiss it. But they still needed witness testimony. Someone who had seen Sloan in places she shouldn't have been. Someone willing to speak.
A low sound cut through the stillness.
Kairi stopped. Her wolf's ears pricked forward. Not a growl. Not a threat. Something else. Something exhausted.
She stepped off the trail, moving carefully through the brush. The sound came again—a soft whine, almost too quiet to hear.
She found him in a shallow depression beneath a fallen tree. A wolf-dog hybrid, large and matted, his ribs visible beneath dirty fur. No pack scent. No collar. No tags. Just a creature alone at the edge of territory, too tired to run.
Her wolf surged forward. *Not danger. Distress.*
Kairi knelt slowly, keeping her movements small. "Hey," she said softly. "It's okay."
The hybrid's head lifted. His eyes were amber, clear despite the exhaustion. He watched her without aggression. Just... waiting.
She pulled a wrapped sandwich from her pack—something she'd grabbed from the kitchen before leaving. She unwrapped it carefully and held it out.
The hybrid sniffed. Then took it gently from her hand, his teeth never grazing her fingers.
Kairi sat back on her heels, one hand pressed to her belly. The pup kicked. The hybrid's ears swiveled toward the movement.
He finished the sandwich. Then, slowly, he crawled forward and pressed his broad head against her rounded stomach.
The gentleness of it made her breath catch.
He didn't push. Didn't demand. Just rested there, his warmth seeping through her jacket, his breathing evening out.
"You're alone too," Kairi whispered.
The hybrid's tail thumped once against the ground.
She stayed there for a long time, one hand on her belly, the other buried in his matted fur. When she finally stood to leave, he stood with her.
"You want to come?" she asked.
He followed her back to the trail. He followed her all the way to the pack house. And when she opened the side door, he walked in behind her like he'd always belonged there.
Nia looked up from the kitchen table where she'd been reviewing documents. Her gaze moved from Kairi to the hybrid, then back.
"His name's Barnaby," Kairi said. She didn't know where the name came from. It just felt right.
Nia nodded once. "He stays."
Barnaby settled on the floor beside Kairi's chair. He didn't move for the rest of the night.
---
Elias Reed ran the dawn perimeter check like clockwork.
Kairi had watched him for three days, noting his routes, his timing, the way he logged every detail in the security ledger with meticulous care. He was a Delta—a regular warrior, not high-ranking, not flashy. But he was observant.
And he had logged Sloan's presence in the Alpha quarters. Twice.
Kairi intercepted him near the eastern checkpoint, where the trail curved away from pack house sightlines. She kept her posture casual, non-threatening. Not Luna summoning a subordinate. Just a she-wolf asking a question.
"Elias," she said quietly.
He stopped immediately, his hand moving instinctively to his chest in the traditional gesture of respect. "Luna."
"I need to ask you something." She kept her voice low. "And I need the truth."
His jaw tightened. He glanced around—checking for listening ears—then nodded.
"You logged Sloan Mitchell's presence in the Alpha quarters," Kairi said. "Twice. Three weeks apart. Late at night."
Elias's expression didn't change, but something shifted behind his eyes. Recognition. Maybe relief.
"Yes, Luna," he said.
"Did you report it?"
"No, Luna."
"Why not?"
He hesitated. Then: "Because I'm a Delta. And she's the Alpha's guest. It wasn't my place to question."
Kairi's wolf growled softly. Not at Elias. At the system that had taught him to ignore what he saw.
"Tell me what you saw," she said. "Dates. Times. Which wing she accessed."
Elias told her everything. The first visit: two a.m., the private wing, stayed until dawn. The second visit: midnight, same wing, left before sunrise. Both times when Liam had claimed to be on border patrol.
Kairi listened without interrupting. When he finished, she met his eyes.
"I need you to write it down," she said. "Every detail. And sign it."
Elias straightened. "What do you need me to do, Luna?"
"Tell the truth," Kairi said. "When the time comes. That's all."
He nodded once. Firm. Certain. "You'll have it by tonight."
---
Sloan arrived at the pack house the next afternoon with her usual bright smile and her arms full of gifts.
"I found the most beautiful chamomile tea blend," she said, sweeping into the sitting room like she owned it. "And look at this fabric—perfect for the nursery curtains, don't you think?"
Kairi watched from the doorway as Sloan set everything on the table, her fingers trailing across the furniture, her gaze cataloguing the space with a familiarity that made Kairi's wolf bare its teeth.
Sloan wasn't visiting.
She was surveying.
"Sit," Kairi said. Her voice was warm. Welcoming. "I'll make tea."
Sloan settled into the chair—Kairi's chair, the one by the window—and tucked her legs beneath her. "How are you feeling? The delivery's so close now."
"Tired," Kairi said. She filled the kettle. "But good."
"And Liam? Is he taking care of you?"
Kairi's hand stilled on the kettle handle. Just for a moment. Then she smiled. "He's busy. Border patrols. Alpha responsibilities. You know how it is."
Sloan's expression softened into something that looked like sympathy. "You're so patient with him. I don't know how you do it."
Kairi poured the tea. She carried two cups to the table and set one in front of Sloan. Then she sat across from her, one hand resting flat on her belly.
Beneath the table, her wolf was absolutely still.
"It's what Lunas do," Kairi said quietly. "We hold things together."
Sloan sipped her tea. Her gaze drifted around the room again—the curtains, the mantel, the doorway that led to the private wing.
"This house is beautiful," Sloan said. "You've made it so warm."
"Thank you," Kairi said.
The pup kicked. Hard. Kairi's hand pressed harder against her belly.
Sloan didn't notice. She was already talking about the fabric again, about color schemes, about how the nursery would look once everything was finished.
Kairi refilled her tea. She smiled. She nodded.
And she watched Sloan memorize every corner of the home she would never have.