The next morning, Kidd woke with a strange current of excitement humming beneath his skin. For a moment he lay still, staring at the ceiling, trying to understand where it was coming from. Nothing specific had happened. No alarm, no noise. Just that restless energy, sharp and persistent.
It was Saturday. He had a few things to wrap up at work, but they could wait.
He got out of bed and headed downstairs, pulling a T-shirt over his head on the way. From the kitchen he heard Byra and Levi. Judging by the sounds—and the rhythm of them—they were definitely not making breakfast.
He smirked.
"Don't mind me," he called out casually. "I'll head out through the garden."
"Oh God, Kidd—breakfast—" Byra protested, scandalized.
Levi murmured something that successfully distracted her.
"Later!" Kidd added, already stepping outside.
He circled the house and, once on the driveway, pulled out his phone and dialed Marco's number. He assumed the doctor would just be getting ready for work.
After three rings, Marco answered.
"How can I help you?" he said smoothly.
From the faint echo in the background, Kidd guessed he was already driving. And from the tone alone, Kidd had the distinct suspicion Marco had expected this call.
"I have a feeling your TED Talk last night didn't end the way it should have," Kidd said lightly. "And I've got a few questions. I didn't exactly anticipate that finale."
He slid into his car and started the engine.
"If it's not a problem, I'd like to apologize. On behalf of myself and the pack. And finish the conversation properly. I suspect I also owe your sister an apology."
Marco chuckled—not mockingly.
"I can't promise she'll accept it. She was absolutely furious last night. If you'd been standing next to her, it might've ended badly."
A shiver ran through Kidd as he pulled out onto the main road.
Furious.
For some reason, the image of Ithilien—calm, controlled Ithilien—with anger flashing in her eyes made something in him tighten in interest rather than discomfort.
"All the more reason to apologize," he replied. "I'd rather have her on our side."
"Smart choice," Marco agreed. "How about tonight? Neutral territory. No pack politics. As far as I know, Ilien's making steaks."
Ilien.
The name lingered for a second longer than necessary in Kidd's mind.
"Well," he said, unable to hide the faint smile in his voice, "you've convinced me."
"Six o'clock."
The call ended.
Kidd merged confidently into traffic, a near-triumphant smile curving his lips. He leaned back in the driver's seat and pressed down on the accelerator.
7:15 a.m.
Ithilien woke late. Even Marco leaving that morning hadn't stirred her, which told her more than anything else that her body had desperately needed the reset. After returning from the meeting with the pack, she hadn't been able to focus on studying at all—and even in sleep she had been chased by amber eyes and Kidd's stripped-of-emotion expression as he'd said, don't do that again.
She turned onto her other side and reached for her phone.
10:00 a.m.
A few messages from friends at university. One from Marco.
She pushed herself upright the moment she read: We're having a guest for dinner.
Oh, she knew exactly who.
She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth but silently congratulated her brother on his predictive abilities. What was the name? Levi? According to Marco, he was the one who could steer the young alpha toward reasonable decisions.
So Kidd was coming to finish yesterday's conversation.
Wonderful.
Maybe something would finally get through those Oregon wolf skulls.
She went downstairs, made herself coffee, scrolled through messages and social media for a while, then wrote a grocery list and headed into town.
She decided to let Marco handle the discussion. She wouldn't interfere. And if Kidd tried to direct accusations at them again, they would simply tell him they were leaving and the pack could manage on its own.
Yes. That's exactly what she'd say.
At the butcher's, the scent of fresh, bloody meat was almost too tempting. She chose several thick-cut steaks, then headed to the bookstore to pick up a few things. On her way out, she nearly ran into Carter.
"Small world," he said with a grin.
Behind him stood an older man with sharp eyes and a measured posture that radiated quiet authority. Silver threaded through his dark hair, and though he wore nothing more than a flannel shirt and worn boots, the air around him felt heavier. Attentive.
An alpha.
She recognized it instantly.
"Grandpa, this is Ithilien, the doctor's sister," Carter said.
The old alpha extended a weathered hand. She shook it lightly and inclined her head.
"Dorian Parker."
Ah. The Ranger. The last resort, if Kidd refused to listen.
"Ithilien Greenan."
"Unusual name," he remarked, resting a hand briefly on his grandson's shoulder. "Carter told me about last night. The whole pack owes you."
"I did what needed to be done."
"It isn't your pack," Carter said. "You could have walked away. But you ran with us. That was… noble." There was unmistakable pride in his voice.
He probably thinks that's a very mature compliment, she thought, amused—but she kept her expression serious and nodded.
"Thank you. That means a lot."
She turned her gaze back to Dorian.
"I assume Carter also mentioned Fenrir."
The flicker in the older man's eyes told her everything.
"I'd like to hear more about that," Dorian said evenly. "As I understand it, your conversation was interrupted. I have a few questions."
"That works out perfectly," Ithilien replied. "Alpha Kidd is coming to dinner tonight to continue that very discussion. You're both equally welcome."
"I'm afraid we can't tonight," Dorian said. "But if you and your brother would accept an invitation to lunch tomorrow, we would be more than happy to host you."
Ithilien suppressed her disappointment. She would have preferred their presence that very evening.
"Well," she said lightly, "that sounds good."
She exchanged phone numbers with Carter and promised they would wait for the address and come with Marco to talk.
Dorian patted his grandson on the shoulder.
He would have had to be blind not to notice the way the boy's eyes lit up whenever he looked at her. It wasn't subtle. Not to someone who had led a pack for decades.
Of course, she didn't notice him at all.
Her aura told him why.
It wasn't fractured in the way of weakness. It was divided. Split. As if part of her still stood somewhere else, tethered to something unseen. The kind of bond that didn't loosen easily—if ever.
Dorian had seen it before.
He gave Carter's shoulder a firmer squeeze.
"Well now, kid," he said mildly, "I think it's not your time just yet."
Carter blinked. "What? What do you mean, Grandpa?"
"Come on, come on," Dorian waved him along, already turning toward the street. "Doctors won't wait around for these old bones of mine."
Carter cast one last glance over his shoulder before following.
Dorian didn't look back.
But he was already thinking.