*Sage*
The air outside the restaurant was cold enough to bite.
My breath fogged in front of me, wisps of white in the orange glow of the streetlights. Snowmelt had turned the sidewalks slick and dark, patches of ice waiting like traps. Neon from the Thai place smeared pink and green across wet asphalt.
Kieran’s hand was warm in mine.
“Left,” I said, voice low. “Two blocks, then right. My place is…close.”
“Too close,” he murmured.
Behind us, three sets of footsteps crunched in imperfect unison.
I didn’t look back.
I didn’t have to.
Their presence pressed between my shoulder blades like a thumb.
“How far?” he asked.
I swallowed. “Half a mile.”
“No,” he said. “How far do you want to let this go before we…address it.”
“Oh.” I licked my lips. “I don’t…know the proper etiquette for ‘being followed by rival wolf-bros’ in town.”
“You do,” he said quietly. “You’ve dealt with predators in human streets. Men who pushed. You know when it’s time to stop pretending you don’t see them.”
His words slid under my skin like cold water.
He was right.
With a normal guy, I would’ve ducked into a coffeeshop, a gas station, anywhere with fluorescent lights and witnesses. Here, that tactic felt…backward. Bringing more humans into this felt like pouring gasoline on whatever was about to spark.
“What do you want to do?” I asked.
His fingers tightened on mine.
“There’s an alley,” he said. “Two buildings down. Between the laundromat and the pawn shop. Take it.”
“Alley?” I hissed. “You just said—”
“It’s narrow,” he said. “One way in. One way out. Less collateral. If they’re going to push, I’d rather it be where I can see the edges.”
Every self-preservation instinct I owned screamed at me that “narrow alley with strange men” was a terrible idea.
But these weren’t…men. Not in the usual sense.
And the person walking next to me wasn’t usual either.
“Okay,” I said. “Alley it is.”
We turned.
The alley mouth yawned between two brick buildings, dark and narrow, lit only by a single flickering security light. Dumpsters hunched against one wall, leaking the sour smell of old takeout. Meltwater trickled down the center, already forming a thin skin of ice.
I stepped into the shadows.
Kieran followed, letting go of my hand.
His body shifted—not into fur, not yet, but into something more feral. His shoulders rolled, spine loosening, head tilting slightly as if listening with more than his ears.
He walked three steps in, then turned.
I moved to his left, keeping my back to the wall.
The footsteps behind us slowed.
Stopped at the alley’s mouth.
For a half-second, there was silence.
Then one of them laughed.
It was a sharp, humorless sound, bouncing off the brick.
“Well, well,” a voice drawled. “Look at that. City wolves using human tricks.”
Kieran’s lips curved.
Not a smile.
A showing of teeth.
“Come in,” he said softly. “Or are you afraid to get your boots dirty?”
They came.
Three shapes, framed against the weak light.
Up close, the family resemblance to Cassian was even stronger.
The one in front—ice-blue eyes, dark hair buzzed close, a jagged scar across his jaw—strolled in like he owned the place. The two flanking him were slighter, one with a baseball cap pulled low, the other with a scruff of beard that looked more cultivates than grown.
Their scents hit me an instant later.
Pine. Smoke. Cold iron. A hint of blood.
Wolves.
My wolf.
And not.
“Alpha,” Blue Eyes said, inclining his head just enough to be insulting. “Didn’t expect to see you…down here.”
Kieran didn’t move.
“Ronan,” he said.
The name sat heavy in the air.
Ronan’s smile widened. “You remember. I’m touched.”
“I remember when you were small enough to trip over your own tail,” Kieran said. “You’ve grown.”
“Some of us had to,” Ronan said. “Your kind’s been…stagnant up in the trees.”
His gaze slid to me.
I fought the instinct to press back against the wall.
He looked me over like I was a…problem to solve. A puzzle. A thing.
“Dr. Holloway,” he said. “You look different without your tower.”
My stomach dropped.
He knew my name.
“You’ve been…busy,” he continued. “Chasing ghosts. Falling off ladders. Learning how to sleep with monsters.”
Heat flared in my cheeks.
“I don’t sleep with—” I snapped, then bit the rest off.
His eyebrows lifted.
“Yet,” he finished, amused.
Rage spiked.
Beside me, Kieran’s body went very still.
“Careful,” he said softly.
Ronan smiled. “Touchy.”
“You followed us,” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady. “From the restaurant.”
“We were hungry too,” he said. “Can’t a guy get pad thai without being accused of stalking?”
“You don’t smell like…pad thai,” I muttered.
He laughed. “She’s funny,” he said to Kieran. “I see the appeal.”
“State your business,” Kieran said. “Or get out.”
Ronan leaned against the opposite wall, casual as a cat. “No business,” he said. “Just…curiosity. Cassian heard you were playing tourist. Wanted to know if the stories were true.”
“What stories,” Kieran asked.
“That you’re walking around in human skin with a little scientist on your arm,” Ronan said. “That you’ve gone…soft. That you’re sniffing around human skirts instead of holding the line.”
My fists clenched.
“Misogyny really runs in your family, doesn’t it,” I said.
Ronan’s gaze flicked back to me. “Big word,” he said. “Did the Alpha teach you that?”
“I learned it watching men like you talk,” I shot back.
His mouth thinned.
The one with the cap snorted. “She’s got teeth,” he said. “You gonna let her talk to you like that, Ronan?”
“Shut up, Levi,” Ronan said mildly. “Adults are talking.”
Levi rolled his eyes but fell silent.
Ronan pushed off the wall and took a step closer.
Kieran shifted, blocking him from coming too far into our space.
The air in the alley thickened.
“Cassian wants to meet you again,” Ronan said. “Properly. Not over rocks and old magic. In a place where your humans can see whose leash you’re on.”
“No,” Kieran said.
Ronan’s brows rose. “No?”
“You can tell your Alpha,” Kieran said evenly, “that if he wants to talk, he knows where the stone stands. He steps over it, we answer with blood. I won’t dance for him in front of humans.”
Ronan’s eyes flashed, annoyance cracking through the lazy veneer.
“You really think you can keep this up?” he asked. “Hiding in the trees while the world changes. Playing pet to a woman who—”
“Finish that sentence,” I cut in, “and I’ll help him break your jaw this time.”
He blinked.
Then, unexpectedly, he laughed.
“You really are something,” he said. “Does he know what he’s bitten off?”
“I’m not his,” I said, even as some treacherous part of me clenched at the word.
Ronan’s gaze sharpened.
“You sure?” he asked softly.
I opened my mouth.
Closed it.
“I’m sure she’s under my protection,” Kieran said, voice low and dangerous. “That’s all you need to know.”
Ronan’s smile turned cruel. “Protection,” he echoed. “From what? From us? From your own teeth? From the truth?”
He stepped even closer.
Too close.
The alley seemed to shrink around us.
His scent was overwhelming—wolf, yes, but also something sour underneath, like rot.
“You know what Cassian thinks?” he asked. “He thinks you’re forgetting what you are. Playing house with a human. Calling it strategy. He thinks you’re…afraid.”
“I am,” Kieran said.
Ronan blinked.
“What?” he sneered.
“I’m afraid of what your Alpha will do to my pack if I don’t stop him,” Kieran said. “I’m afraid of what humans will do to all of us if you keep poking them. I’m afraid that you’re too young and too stupid to understand the fire you’re playing with.”
“Old man,” Levi muttered.
Kieran ignored him.
“I’m not afraid of you,” he said to Ronan. “Or Cassian. Or any of your pups. Don’t flatter yourself.”
The alley hummed with tension.
Ronan’s jaw clenched.
“Big words,” he said. “In a place where you can’t grow fur without drawing a crowd.”
“You came into my world,” Sage said quietly. “Our world. Not the other way around. You’re the ones out of your depth, if you think you can push us here without consequences.”
Ronan’s gaze snapped to her.
“You think these people will protect you?” he asked. “These…paper-pushers and tourists and cops? You think they’ll stand between you and teeth when things go bad?”
“I think,” she said evenly, “that if you drag your fight into their streets, they’ll burn you down along with us. I’m trying to stop that. Are you?”
He hesitated.
Just for a second.
It was enough to tell me there was a brain in there under all the bravado.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, human,” he said. “Cassian won’t like it when he finds out you’re…interfering.”
“Cassian can get in line behind everyone else who doesn’t like me,” she said.
I almost smiled.
Ronan shook his head.
“You want a warning?” he asked, suddenly serious. “Here it is. He’s tired of lines. Stones. Old words. He wants something…louder. And he thinks you’re the key to it.”
Cold washed through me.
“Key how,” Sage asked, voice very small.
“Evidence,” Ronan said. “Proof. You’re his favorite bedtime story right now. The human who saw. The human who stayed. The human who might…talk.”
“I’m not talking to him,” she said.
“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “He’ll take your existence and make it a banner. ‘See?’ he’ll say. ‘They know. They’ve always known. They just lied.’ Humans love a good conspiracy. Give them a hint of truth and they’ll build their own fire.”
I swallowed hard.
He wasn’t wrong.
“Then maybe,” Sage said slowly, “we beat him to it.”
Ronan frowned. “What.”
“Nothing,” she said quickly. “Just thinking out loud.”
He stared at her.
“Careful, Dr. Holloway,” he said softly. “Your thoughts might get you killed.”
“They already have,” she said. “I’m just…waiting for the paperwork to catch up.”
He barked a laugh.
“You sure you’re human?” he asked. “You sound like one of us.”
My heart stuttered.
“Enough,” Kieran said.
He stepped forward.
For a moment, I thought he was going to shove Ronan.
Instead, he did something…worse.
He smiled.
A slow, cold, utterly humorless smile.
“You’ve delivered your message,” he said. “Now here’s mine. You tell Cassian this: if he so much as breathes her name in front of his pack again, I’ll consider it an act of war. He wants to challenge me? Fine. He knows where to stand. But he keeps his teeth off my…off my people. Off my human. Or I’ll rip his lungs out and hang them on the stone for the ravens.”
The words were low, almost conversational.
They hit like blows.
Ronan’s pupils flared.
“You’re drawing lines you can’t erase,” he said.
“They were always there,” Kieran said. “I’m just…coloring them in.”
Ronan stared at him.
Then, slowly, he inclined his head again.
Less mocking this time.
“Message received,” he said.
He jerked his chin at his companions.
They backed toward the mouth of the alley.
As he stepped into the spill of streetlight, Ronan looked back at me one last time.
“Careful, little human,” he said. “When wolves fight, everything between them gets crushed.”
Then he was gone.
Snowmelt dripped from a gutter.
Somewhere, a car horn honked.
I realized I was shaking.
Kieran’s hand closed around my wrist.
“Breathe,” he said softly.
“I am,” I said. “That’s the problem. My lungs are working. That means I’m alive to be terrified.”
He huffed a breath that might have been a laugh if it weren’t so strained.
“You did well,” he said.
“Did I?” I asked. “I mouthed off to a man who could snap my spine with one hand. That feels…less than ideal, strategically.”
“Words have teeth,” he said. “Yours landed. He’ll remember.”
“Is that good?” I whispered.
“Better than him seeing you as just…meat,” he said.
“I’m sick of being…meat,” I muttered.
His grip on my wrist loosened, slid down, caught my hand.
He squeezed.
“You’re more than that,” he said quietly. “To them. To us. To me.”
My heart did an inconvenient little flip.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you home.”
Home.
My apartment.
The valley.
The word had started to…fuzz around the edges.
But as we stepped out of the alley together, into the too-bright, too-loud human world, the only place that felt like anything close to home was the space where his fingers wrapped around mine.
***
The rest of the Bozeman trip passed like a test I wasn’t sure I’d passed.
We grabbed groceries—Kieran marveled at the variety of cereal like it was a new ecosystem—and I helped him pick out a couple of neutral shirts at a thrift store.
We went back to my apartment, where he sat on my couch with a bag of chips, looking comically large in the cramped space, while I frantically emailed revised outreach proposals to Kim.
We didn’t mention Ronan.
We didn’t mention prophecy.
We didn’t mention the way my body had hummed when Kieran had said *my human* like it was both a shield and a claim.
We slept in my bed that night.
Carefully.
No sex.
No fumbling.
Just…heat.
Weight.
His arm heavy over my waist.
His breath a slow, steady rhythm at the back of my neck.
“Is this what you do for fun in your world?” he murmured against my hair at one point. “Stare at glowing rectangles until your eyes bleed?”
“Yes,” I said. “We call it Netflix and disassociate.”
He chuckled.
Later, when he thought I was asleep, he whispered in the dark.
“I don’t know how to keep you,” he said, so softly I barely heard it. “But I don’t know how to let you go either.”
My eyes stung.
I didn’t answer.
I didn’t trust what would come out if I did.
In the morning, we drove back to the valley.
The mountains rose up around us like old gods, snow-capped and indifferent.
As we turned off the highway onto the smaller, rougher road that led toward the trailhead, the weight in my chest shifted.
Part dread.
Part relief.
Part…anticipation.
We were going back to danger.
Back to pack.
Back to magic.
Back to him, more fully.
As the truck bumped along the snow-packed lane, Kieran reached over and rested his hand on my thigh.
I glanced at him.
His face was turned toward the windshield, jaw tight, eyes narrowed against the glare off the snow.
“You’re shaking,” he said.
“I’m cold,” I said.
“You’re not,” he said.
I exhaled. “I’m…scared,” I admitted. “Of what we just did. Of what we’re going back to. Of…what happens next.”
He squeezed gently.
“Me too,” he said.
The honesty in that small admission did more to calm me than any of Mara’s teas.
I curled my fingers over his.
Held tight.
As the valley swallowed us, I realized that for all the fear, all the uncertainty, all the sharpened teeth circling our fragile little pocket of maybe, one thing had changed irrevocably:
I wasn’t walking into it alone.
***