“So find out what it is.” Leo’s suggestion was simple. Direct. “You’re the sheriff. Investigating is literally your job.”
“And she’s my—” Wyatt cut himself off, unable to finish the sentence.
“Your mate.” Theo finished it for him. “Which means protecting her is also your job. Whatever she’s hiding, whatever she’s scared of—that’s your fight now, whether you’ve claimed her or not.”
Wyatt’s panther rumbled with what felt unsettlingly like agreement.
“She won’t talk to me.” The admission cost him. “I went to her cottage. Asked what she saw in the candle. She refused to answer and closed the door in my face.”
“Closed the door in your face.” Delos’s grin was back. “I like her already.”
“Not helpful.”
“Very helpful. It means she’s not a pushover. You need someone who can push back against all that—” Delos gestured vaguely at Wyatt. “—broody intensity.”
“I’m not broody.”
“You’re extremely broody.” Leo nodded solemnly. “It’s concerning. We’ve been worried about you for years.”
“We have not been worried?—”
“Aero made flashcards.” Delos pulled out his phone, scrolling through what appeared to be photographs. “Look. ‘How to Recognize When Wyatt is Experiencing Emotions.’ Step one: His jaw gets tighter. Step two: He gets even more silent. Step three?—”
“There are no flashcards.” Aero’s tone was dust-dry, but warmth that might have been embarrassment flickered in his ancient eyes.
“There are absolutely flashcards. You made them after the Nerissa incident when Wyatt worked for thirty-six hours straight and wouldn’t admit he was exhausted.”
“I was fine.”
“You fell asleep standing up at the harbor.” Beck’s contribution was cheerful. “Theo had to catch you before you hit the water.”
“That was—” Wyatt stopped. Took a breath. “Can we please focus on the actual crisis instead of my alleged emotional deficiencies?”
“Your emotional deficiencies are the crisis.” Leo’s voice had gentled. “Look, I get it. I was exactly where you are—refusing to admit what my lion knew, fighting the bond because it felt like losing control.”
“And if she doesn’t want me?” The question tore out of him, raw and unguarded. “If she’s fleeing from danger—someone—and I’m just making it worse?”
The table went quiet.
“Is that what you think?” Theo’s voice was careful. “That she’s in danger?”
Wyatt thought about Narla’s cottage—the layers of wards, the defensive magic woven into every surface. The way she’d tensed when he mentioned her past. The fear he’d smelled underneath her composure, raw and primal as an animal cornered.
“I think she’s been fleeing for a long time.” His hand tightened on his beer. “And I think whatever it is, she won’t risk me getting involved.”
“Then get involved.” Leo replied. “If she’s in danger, she needs someone in her corner. Someone who can fight for her even when she won’t let him. That’s what mates do.”
“I don’t know how to—” Wyatt stopped. Let out a breath. “I’ve spent my entire adult life keeping people at a distance. I don’t know how to be what she needs.”
“None of us did.” Theo’s voice held quiet understanding. “You learn. You fuck up. You try again. And eventually, if you’re lucky, she decides you’re worth keeping anyway.”
Delos raised his beer. “To fucking up and trying again.”
“To mates who don’t give up on us even when we’re being idiots.” Beck clinked his glass against Delos’s.
“To the surge.” Aero’s contribution was unexpected, something that might have been warmth surfacing in his centuries-deep gaze. “For pushing us toward what we were too afraid to claim on our own.”
Even Hux raised his whiskey, though his expression remained shadowed. “To finding answers. Whatever they turn out to be.”
