He came back two days later.
I was restocking the top shelf when the bell chimed. I didn't turn around. I knew the scent before I heard the footsteps. Pine and leather and something underneath that made Ember's warmth flicker sharp in my chest.
But this time there were two sets of footsteps.
I set down the jar of dried lavender and turned. Thiago stood just inside the door, hands in his pockets, looking anywhere but directly at me. Behind him was a man I didn't recognize. Older. Well-dressed. The kind of suit that cost more than my rent. He had the posture of someone used to being listened to.
Beta, Ember whispered. The word surfaced in my mind like a stone dropped in still water.
"Miss Webb," the Beta said. His voice was smooth. Professional. He stepped forward and extended his hand.
I didn't take it.
He lowered it without comment and smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. "My name is Richard Moss. I'm Beta of the Ashford Pack. I apologize for the intrusion."
I looked past him to Thiago. Thiago was studying the floor like it held answers.
"What do you want?" I asked.
Moss reached into his jacket—slowly, deliberately, the way you move around something that might bite—and pulled out a white envelope. He set it on the counter between us. It was thick. Heavy.
"Alpha Larson wanted to personally ensure you were... compensated," Moss said. "For any disruption his recent visits may have caused."
I looked at the envelope. I didn't touch it.
"Disruption," I repeated.
Moss's smile tightened. "The Alpha has considerable respect for your privacy, Miss Webb. He understands that his presence may have been... unexpected. This is simply a gesture of goodwill. Enough to relocate, if you wished. Or to expand your practice here. Whatever you prefer."
I picked up the envelope. It was heavier than it looked. I turned it over once, then set it back down and slid it across the counter toward him.
"No," I said.
Moss blinked. "I'm sorry?"
"No," I said again. "Take it back."
Behind him, Thiago's head came up. He was staring at me now. I didn't look at him.
Moss didn't move. "Miss Webb, I don't think you understand the—"
"I understand perfectly," I said. My voice was still calm. Still clinical. "Your Alpha wants to pay me to stay quiet. The answer is no."
The air in the shop changed. Moss's polite mask slipped just slightly. His eyes narrowed.
"That's not what this is," he said.
"Yes it is," I said. "And if your Alpha returns to this shop again, I will consider it harassment. And I will escalate accordingly."
Moss went very still. "Escalate to whom?"
I met his eyes and said nothing.
The silence stretched. Moss was good at reading people. I could see him doing it now. Weighing. Calculating. Trying to figure out what I knew, who I might know, what kind of threat I actually posed.
He picked up the envelope.
"Understood," he said quietly. "We apologize for any misunderstanding."
He turned to leave. Thiago didn't move immediately. He was still looking at me. His mouth opened.
"Thiago," Moss said. Not loud. Just firm.
Thiago closed his mouth and followed.
The bell chimed. The door closed. I stood there with my hands flat on the counter, pressing down hard enough that my knuckles went white.
Ember was growling. Low and steady. Not at them. At the memory.
I exhaled slowly and went back to restocking the shelf.
***
I didn't know it then, but Thiago couldn't stop thinking about my hands.
He told me later—much later, when it didn't matter anymore—that it was the scars that stayed with him. The way my fingers had moved when I pushed the envelope back. Precise. Controlled. The burn tissue across my knuckles catching the light.
He'd walked back to the car in silence. Moss had asked him twice if he was all right. He hadn't answered.
That night, he'd gone to bed and lain awake staring at the ceiling. Paulina had been asleep beside him. He'd felt the space where the fated bond used to live ache in his chest. Not sharp. Just constant. Like a bruise that never healed.
He'd wondered, for the first time in six years, what the fire had actually done to me.
He didn't let himself finish the thought.
***
Paulina noticed the next morning.
She always noticed. That was the problem.
Thiago had been distracted at breakfast. Irritable. When she'd reached across the table to touch his hand, he'd flinched. Just slightly. Just enough.
She'd pulled back and watched him. He'd made an excuse about pack business and left early.
She'd waited until he was gone. Then she'd gone downstairs and found Marcus—one of the younger warriors, ambitious and just stupid enough to be useful.
"You were with the Alpha two days ago," she said. "On the border patrol."
Marcus straightened. "Yes, Luna."
"Where did he go after the skirmish?"
Marcus hesitated. Paulina smiled. It was the smile she used when she wanted something and knew she'd get it.
"I can make things easier for you here," she said quietly. "Better patrol assignments. More visibility with the Alpha. Or I can make things harder. Your choice."
Marcus swallowed. "He went into Crescent Hollow. To a healing shop."
Paulina's smile didn't move. "And?"
"There was a healer. A she-wolf. Scarred. He's been back twice since."
"Three times," Paulina said.
Marcus nodded quickly. "Three times. Yes, Luna."
Paulina stood very still. Her hands were loose at her sides. Her face was blank.
"What's the address?" she asked.
Marcus told her.
Paulina thanked him and walked away. She didn't go back upstairs. She went to her office, closed the door, and stood at the window for a long time.
Scarred. She-wolf. Crescent Hollow.
She pressed her palm flat against the glass. It was cold.
She knew exactly who it was.
