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It was gorgeous. “Patty.”

Her confidence disappeared immediately. “You hate it.”

“I love it.” I held the shirt against my chest. “This is incredible. You made this for me?”

She relaxed a little. “I’d already started the design, but after you said the adaptation misunderstood her entire emotional arc, I knew you deserved the first one.”

“That movie did misunderstand her.”

“I know.”

“They made her emotionally detached.”

“She was grieving.”

“And the groundskeeper⁠—”

“Was obviously the better choice,” she said.

We stared at each other for a beat, then started talking at the same time. Five minutes later, we were debating the third volume of the series with enough intensity that I forgot everyone around me, including Patty, could turn into wolves.

That was probably why Patty and I worked. She gave no space for fear to grow.

We crossed the lawn toward the hall. When a child ran between us carrying a water gun, Patty caught him by the shoulders and redirected him without pausing her argument. As soon as we reached the porch, an elderly woman in a purple blouse stepped directly into our path.

Grandma Ruth.

She looked exactly like her icon in the group chat, except she wasn’t wielding a wooden spoon.

“Sloane.” There was no question in her greeting. She took my face between both hands.

My entire body went rigid.

Grandma Ruth turned my head left, then right, inspecting me. “You’ve gotten thin.”

“That’s a warm welcome,” Patty said.

“It’s just an observation.” Grandma Ruth continued examining me.

My heart thudded in my throat. Up close, there was no possible way I resembled the real Loany. Even if memory had softened details over eight years, surely somebody would notice that I had an entirely different face.

“And your hair is much lighter,” Grandma Ruth said, taking my chin between her surprisingly firm fingers.

Before I could offer my rehearsed line about letting the dye grow out, she leaned in, tilting her head. She took a deep, audible breath right at the crook of my neck. Her nostrils flared, drawing in air with the rhythmic intensity of a bloodhound tracking an escaped convict.

I stiffened. I stopped breathing entirely, my lungs burning as I clamped my jaws shut.

Please, God, don’t let her detect that I’m a human. Please let all the attempts I made to cover my scent hold up in a court of law.

She flared her nostrils one last time, let out a loud, disappointed huff, and straightened up. “You smell like a hardware store after a chemical spill, girl. What kind of soap are they selling you in the city?”

“It’s… holistic,” I managed, swallowing down a wave of pure terror.

Just then, Hilary Blackwell approached with Julie beside her.

Hilary was imposing without trying. She wore dark jeans and a gray sleeveless top, her gray-streaked hair closely cropped at the sides. There was no visible marker identifying her as alpha, but people made room when she moved to allow her through, and conversations near her quieted in her presence.

Based on my research, the alpha was the ultimate authority figure, keeping order and defending their pack from any outside threats. Hilary definitely had the alpha vibe going for her if that was true. The definition also explained Hudson’s role within the pack. When he told me he was the future alpha, I’d thought he was joking about his masculinity. He hadn’t been.