She sees everything. Always has.
"You needed these." She gestures to the herb boxes, voice deliberately casual. "Mugwort was running low. And you're almost out of blue vervain."
She's right. I am. How does she always know?
"Thank you." I glance back at Calder, Tyler, Julian, trying to look casual and failing. Three alphas radiating protective tension. "Grandmother, I?—"
"Introduce me," she says calmly. Not a question. A gentle command.
My mouth goes dry. "They're… I mean, we're…"
"I can see what you are." She steps around me, moving toward them with deliberate purpose. "Three alphas bonded to one omega. And recently, from the scent."
Heat floods my face. Our pack scent is unmistakable, honey-green tangled with cedar-smoke and sunshine-warmth and crisp-clean. Kira Matsuda is temporarily shelved while I soak up the familiar comfort of my grandmother.
"Are they kind to you?"
The question stops me. Because that's what matters. It's all that's ever mattered to her.
"Yes," I manage, voice thick.
She nods once, satisfied. Then she's standing before them, barely reaching Calder's shoulder but somehow taking up more space than all three of them combined.
"Well?" She looks at each in turn. "Help an old woman with these boxes. They won't carry themselves."
Calder moves first, stepping forward with careful respect. "Calder Ashford, ma'am." He extends his hand.
She takes it, studying him with that assessing gaze. "You're the one who watches."
He blinks, startled. "I… yes, I guess."
She releases his hand. "She needs watching over. We all do." Her mouth quirks slightly. "Though I suspect you already know that."
Tyler's next, sunshine-bright despite obvious nerves. "Tyler Vale. It's an honor to meet you, Mrs. Rowan."
"Mira is fine." She accepts his handshake, and I see her expression soften fractionally. "You make her laugh."
"Every chance I get," Tyler says, and means it.
"Keep doing that." She turns to Julian, who's been watching this exchange closely. "And you must be the one who thinks too much."
Julian's lips twitch. "Julian Cross. Someone has to think, ma'am."
"True enough." She nods approvingly. "Though thinking isn't worth much without feeling. I trust you're learning that."
"I am," he says quietly, glancing at me. "She's an excellent teacher."
Grandmother follows his gaze, sees something in my face that makes her expression gentle. "She takes after her mother that way." Then she's all business again. "Now. These boxes need to go to wherever Elowen's been working. I assume you know where that is?"
"The greenhouse," Calder confirms, already reaching for the nearest box.
"Greenhouse." Grandmother's eyes spark with interest. "Show me."
The walk to the greenhouse should feel awkward—three nervous alphas, one assessing grandmother, me caught between worlds that I never expected to meet.
Instead, it feels... right.
Grandmother asks questions as we walk. Casual ones about classes, about campus, about how we met. By the time we reach the greenhouse, Tyler has made her laugh with a story about Juniper stealing his sandwich. Julian's explaining the academic structure with barely suppressed enthusiasm. Calder's carrying two boxes like they weigh nothing, steady and reliable as stone.
