Weyland doesn't seem entirely convinced, but exhaustion wins over suspicion. "Hayes wants a full report when you get back to HQ in the morning. Team's pulling out in about an hour."
"I'll be there," I promise. "After I get my mother somewhere safe."
He nods, turning to leave, then pauses. "Mathieson... what do you think it wants? This wolf? What is it doing here?"
The memory of gentle jaws carrying me to safety flickers behind my eyes. The man who knew my name. The connection that hummed between us like a plucked string.
"I don't know," I lie. "But we'll find it and take care of it."
After Weyland leaves, I return to the kitchen where Mom waits, her expression grim as a headstone. "You should've told them it knew you," she says softly.
"And then what? Watch them hunt me next?" I shake my head. "No. This stays between us."
At dawn I drive her to the bus station, my leg now healed enough that I walk with only a slight limp. The bone still throbs with each heartbeat, a reminder of vulnerability, of rescue, of unanswered questions.
"Promise me you'll be careful," Mom says as we wait for her bus. Morning light paints her silver hair with gold, highlighting the worry lines that deepen with each passing year. "Whatever this is—whoever he is—it's not random. They came looking for you specifically."
"I know." I hug her tightly, memorizing the feel of her arms around me, the scent of chamomile and lavender that follows her everywhere. "That's why I need answers. And why you need to be far away and safe while I find them."
As her bus pulls away, I check my phone. Six missed calls from Hayes. Two from Ghost. A text from Sherlock simply reading: "Where are you?"
Time to face the music. But as I walk back to my car, I can't shake the memory of those golden eyes, the careful gentleness of that massive wolf carrying me to safety.
He could have killed me. Should have killed me. Instead, he saved me.
And he knew my name.
Episode 5
CHAPTER 13
She’ll Kill You
* * *
Fenrir Thorsson
I burst through the palace doors with Cormac's limp body in my arms, his blood soaking through my shirt. Even with the siren's swift travel between realms, so many precious minutes have passed since the bullet tore through his flesh.
"Help!" The roar tears from my chest, echoing through the courtyard. My heart hammers against my ribs, not with exertion but with fear for my companion. "I need a healer!"
Guards rush forward, weapons drawn until they recognize me. Their eyes widen at Cormac's ashen face, at the crimson stain spreading across my makeshift bandage. The metallic tang of his blood makes my wolf thrash beneath my skin, hunting for escape, for vengeance.
"Lord Fenrir," one stammers, "what happened?"
"GUIDE happened." The name tastes like poison on my tongue. My canines lengthen involuntarily, puncturing my lower lip. "Where's Thalia? He needs help now."
I push past them, leaving bloody footprints across the pristine floor. Each red smear is a testament to my guilt. My fault. My obsession. My mate. The words pound in rhythm with my thundering pulse.
The scent hits me before I see her—mountain herbs and ancient magic. Lady Thalia emerges from the far corridor, her petite frame radiating authority. Silver hair flows down her back, catching the morning sunlight like polished steel. Her storm-gray eyes sweep over me, missing nothing.
"This way." Her voice carries centuries of command in two quiet words. She turns without waiting, expecting obedience.
"Fucking hold on," I murmur to Cormac, his blood sticky between my fingers. His eyelids flutter, consciousness slipping away like water through cupped hands. "We're almost there."
Memory flashes behind my eyes—Astrid's face when I transformed. Not just fear in those dark eyes, but recognition. The crack of her gun. Cormac shoving me aside. The bullet meant for me tearing through his shoulder instead, barely missing his heart.
And beneath it all, the shocking truth I've been avoiding since our escape… I didn't lose control around her. Despite the danger, despite her weapon, despite everything—the wolf stayed calm in her presence.
