When Marco knocked, there was a moment of silence inside before slow footsteps approached the door. It opened, and the old alpha looked at them with clear surprise.
"Marco. Ithilien." His brows lifted slightly. "I didn't expect to see you today."
A moment later he stepped aside and gestured for them to come in.
The apartment was warm and smelled faintly of wood and tea. Old photographs of the pack hung on the walls, and a heavy desk stood by the window, looking as though it had served several generations of alphas before him.
Dorian closed the door behind them and turned back.
"If you're looking for Carter or the others, they're not here," he said calmly. "They went up into the mountains for a New Year camping trip. They should be back tomorrow… maybe the day after."
Marco nodded as if he had expected that answer.
"Well, time is pressing a little," he said, "but we're hoping you'll pass a message along for us."
Dorian studied him more carefully now before shifting his gaze to Ithilien.
"Then you'd better sit down and tell me what's going on."
They sat at the table in the living room. Ithilien took a moment to gather her thoughts before she began describing what had happened in the forests near Mount Hood: the scent of Fenrir that had drifted through the trees, the deformed creature that had attacked her in the clearing, and the strange way the wound had responded afterward.
Dorian listened without interrupting. His face remained composed, but a shadow appeared in his eyes that had not been there before.
When Ithilien finished, the room fell silent for a moment.
At last the old alpha leaned back in his chair and slowly shook his head.
"I can't say I'm surprised," he said. "That entire project never struck me as a simple experiment. It always felt more like something carefully calculated."
For a moment his gaze drifted somewhere beyond them, as though he were recalling events from long ago.
"I also understand what drives people who decide to meddle in the blood of wolves. This isn't the first time someone has tried to improve us or use us. The difference now is that they have better tools. Genetics has advanced. Science has advanced. But the goal has always been the same." He looked at them again. "To create something beyond human. Nothing about that has really changed since the Second World War."
Marco crossed his arms.
"That's why we need to warn the other packs and gather information. If creatures like that have been seen anywhere else, we need to know. And since Ithilien doesn't belong to the Maddox pack, no one will connect our visit to them."
Dorian nodded slightly.
"That does work in our favor."
"Kidd needs to stay here," Marco continued. "If anyone else transforms, the alpha will be the only one capable of stopping it."
"That part is beyond discussion," Dorian replied. "And if you manage to gather any information along the way, it will be invaluable. Before we can fight this problem, we need to know one thing."
He looked at them carefully.
"Who is behind this experiment."
The conversation continued for a while longer before Marco and Ithilien finally rose from the table. By the time they stepped outside, the night had grown deep and quiet, and the air carried the sharp scent of approaching frost.
Dorian remained seated at the table for a while after the siblings had left, listening to the quiet that settled back into the house. The thought of Fenrir refused to leave his mind. He had lived long enough to know that trouble rarely announced itself loudly; more often it began with a single strange incident in the woods and ended with blood on the ground. This young pack was about to face more than one challenge. A possible Luna from the South was expected to arrive soon, and in the meantime someone would have to watch the borders and unravel the mystery of Fenrir before the next transformation claimed a life. Dorian let out a heavy sigh and rubbed his beard thoughtfully. The world had changed in many ways over the years, but some problems remained stubbornly the same. His thoughts drifted to Kidd. The boy had proven himself a capable alpha—better than many had expected—but a pack could not stand on an alpha's strength alone. It needed a Luna as well. And if anyone had asked Dorian, the answer would have been obvious: Ithilien might be exactly what this pack needed.
Early the next morning they left before sunrise.
The afternoon hung heavy with moisture, and from the low, steel-colored sky a thin mix of snow and rain had begun to fall, melting almost the moment it touched the ground. The road down from the mountains was slick and muddy, so the pack's cars slowly peeled away from one another, each turning toward a different part of town.
Kidd stopped first at the twins' house. Colton and Christian jumped out of the truck, pulling their hoods over their heads and tossing quick goodbyes over their shoulders before disappearing through the front door. A few streets farther, he dropped Carter off. Carter stretched lazily as he stepped out, glanced up at the clouded sky, and muttered something about the mountains at least having a proper winter.
The engine kept running for a moment before he finally shut it off. Wet snow tapped softly against the hood of the truck. Kidd stepped out, pulled the collar of his jacket higher against the cold, and walked up the steps to the porch.
The door opened almost immediately.
"You're back already?" Dorian asked, stepping aside to let him in.
The house was warm and smelled faintly of wood, but before Kidd could answer, his senses caught something else. A scent that was fresh, yet already fading.
Ithilien.
And Marco.
Kidd paused in the doorway and frowned slightly.
"They were here," he said, more a statement than a question.
Dorian closed the door and nodded calmly.
"This morning. They came to tell me about something that happened in Mount Hood."
Kidd turned toward him.
"What happened?"
The old wolf gestured toward a chair at the table, but Kidd remained standing, so Dorian simply leaned lightly against the counter.
"Ithilien was attacked in the forest," he said matter-of-factually. "By something that looked like a werewolf—but wasn't. She described it as… a wolf-like creature. Deformed. With the scent of Fenrir."
For a moment, silence settled over the room. Kidd felt something inside him tighten sharply, but he didn't interrupt. Dorian continued in the same calm tone, as if reporting something straightforward.
"They left to see if anyone else has observed something similar. And to warn the other packs."
Kidd lifted an eyebrow slightly.
"Where?"
"Washington first." Dorian brushed a hand across the table. "Maybe Idaho. And then Montana."
The word hung heavier in the air than the others.
Dorian studied him carefully.
"Marco asked you to call when you got back from the mountains," he added after a moment. "He said he'd explain more himself."
Kidd didn't speak for a moment. He stood motionless in the middle of the kitchen, his gaze moving slowly across the room again, as if searching for some trace of something more than the scent that was already beginning to fade. Adrahil stirred beneath his skin with a sudden, sharp impulse, as if someone had tugged on an invisible thread connecting him to something far away.