The first one showed up three days after Brandon's failed apology.
I was in the training room, working through a drill sequence I'd designed years ago for Silverfang's junior warriors. Muscle memory. My body knew the movements before my brain caught up. Kira was spotting me, calling out corrections I didn't need, when the door opened and a young male wolf stepped inside.
He was maybe twenty-two. Dark hair, nervous energy, a scar across his knuckles I recognized instantly. I'd given him that scar myself, sparring, his first week of warrior training. He'd been seventeen and cocky and I'd disarmed him in under thirty seconds.
His name was Evan Cross.
"Luna," he said, then caught himself. "Quinn. I—"
"You left Silverfang," I said.
He nodded. "Yesterday. I came to ask if you're building something here. Because if you are, I want in."
Kira glanced at me. I unwrapped my hands slowly, giving myself time to think. Evan wasn't the strongest fighter Silverfang had. He wasn't the fastest or the smartest. But he'd always shown up. He'd always listened. And he'd been one of the few who'd looked me in the eye the day after the rejection and said, quietly, *I'm sorry this happened to you.*
"Why?" I asked.
"Because you taught me everything I know," Evan said. "And because Brandon's pack is dying. Half the warriors are talking about transfers. The other half are just waiting to see who leaves first." He paused. "And because Skyler Knight is wearing your pendant like it's hers, and no one's doing anything about it."
Nara stirred. *He's angry for us.*
I looked at Evan for a long moment. Then I nodded once. "We'll talk terms. Kira will take your information."
Relief flooded his face. "Thank you."
He left. Kira raised an eyebrow at me. "You're really doing this."
"Yes."
"Good," she said. And smiled.
By the end of the week, there were six more.
Two senior warriors I'd trained personally. A tracker who'd worked under me during the rogue conflicts. Three younger wolves who'd grown up watching me hold Silverfang together and had no interest in watching it fall apart under Brandon's negligence. They came quietly, one or two at a time, and each one told the same story: the pack was fracturing, morale was gone, and the Alpha who'd once inspired loyalty was now spending his days locked in his office while Skyler played Luna in everything but name.
Felix gave them quarters in the west wing. He didn't question my judgment. He didn't ask for explanations. He simply allocated the resources and stepped back.
The difference was staggering.
At Silverfang, I'd fought for every scrap of authority. Every training session I'd designed had required Brandon's approval. Every strategic recommendation had been filtered through his Beta before it reached his desk. I had been essential and invisible at the same time.
Here, Felix brought me into the Blackmoor strategic council.
The first time, I thought it was a courtesy. A gesture. The council chamber was full of his senior wolves—his Beta, his Gamma, his head of intelligence—and I was the newest addition, the outsider with no formal rank. I took a seat at the far end of the table and waited to be told what my role was.
Felix looked at me and said, "Walk us through the eastern border vulnerabilities."
I blinked. "You want my assessment?"
"Yes."
I pulled out the notes I'd been keeping since my second day at Blackmoor. I'd studied the maps, walked the perimeter, talked to the patrol teams. I knew where the weak points were. I knew which routes the rogues would use if they were smart. I knew how to fix it.
I talked for twenty minutes. No one interrupted. When I finished, Felix's Beta—a grizzled wolf named Marcus—nodded slowly and said, "That's solid. We'll implement it."
Just like that.
No argument. No second-guessing. No need to prove myself twice.
I looked at Felix. He was watching me with that steady, patient gaze, and something in his expression said *this is what respect looks like.*
Nara hummed. *He sees us.*
I looked away first.
---
The motorcade was Felix's idea.
I'd been negotiating a trade alliance with a neutral pack two territories over—timber rights in exchange for warrior training access. Standard stuff. The meeting had gone well. The Alpha had been professional, even friendly, and we'd shaken hands on terms that benefited both sides.
I'd planned to drive back alone.
Felix had other plans.
I walked out of the neutral pack's council house and found six vehicles waiting. Blackmoor warriors in formation. Kira at the lead car, arms crossed, smirking. And Felix leaning against the center vehicle, dressed in dark jeans and a black shirt, his Lycan aura barely leashed.
I stopped. "What is this?"
"An escort," Felix said.
"I don't need an escort."
"I know." He pushed off the car and walked toward me, closing the distance until he was close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. "But every scout from here to the coast is watching. And I want them to see exactly who you're aligned with."
My pulse kicked. "This is a power play."
"Yes."
"You're making a statement."
"Yes."
I should have been annoyed. I should have told him I didn't need his protection or his posturing. But Nara was purring, and the part of me that had spent eight years being invisible was suddenly, fiercely glad that someone wanted the world to know I mattered.
I got in the car.
Felix slid in beside me. The motorcade pulled out, six vehicles moving in tight formation, and I felt the weight of eyes on us from every direction. Scouts in the trees. Rival pack sentries at the border. The gossip networks lighting up like wildfire.
When we crossed back into Blackmoor territory, Felix's hand found the small of my back—steady, warm, possessive in a way that made my breath catch. He guided me out of the vehicle and into his arms, his frame curling around me in a gesture that was both shelter and claim.
I didn't pull away.
His scent wrapped around me—cedar and cold air and something wilder underneath—and Nara sighed, content, for the first time in weeks.
Behind us, I heard the click of a camera. Some scout, some rival pack's intelligence network, capturing the moment.
Good.
Let them see.
Let Brandon hear about it.
Let him know exactly what he lost.
Felix's hand stayed on my back as we walked toward the estate, and I let it.
