The loading door opened again. Nyx. Pack wolves. Kael in human form, already assessing the scene.
The medic moved toward Zeir with supplies. Reached for Lumi’s arm to guide her away so he could access the wounds.
Lumi growled.
The sound came from somewhere deep—not a shifter’s growl, nothing supernatural, but the raw territorial warning of a woman who had swung a chain at a rogue and was not going to be separated from the person she’d just told she wasn’t running from.
Silence.
Kael, from across the floor, hands in his pockets: “...She’s not even a shifter and she’s growling.”
Pause.
“She’s perfect for you.”
Nyx, pulling zip-ties from her tactical belt and moving toward Korr’s prone form: “The growl was effective. I’m noting it for the incident report.”
The medic backed off. Stepped back. Treated Zeir’s wounds around Lumi, who refused to move more than six inches fromhis side and maintained a grip that suggested she planned to hold it for the foreseeable future and possibly beyond.
Korr was secured. Conscious, defeated, zip-tied by Nyx with the efficient contempt of a woman who’d been tracking him for months. Pack custody. Nyx confirmed it without being asked: he’d be held, tried, and sentenced under pack law. He wasn’t coming back.
Kael crouched beside his brother. Studied the wounds—the claw marks, the bite, the red drying on the ground. Then studied Lumi. Her torn coat. The bruises on her wrist. The chain she’d let fall.
“You swung industrial steel at an alpha-class shifter.”
“He was going for Zeir’s throat.”
“At analpha-class wolf.”
“I heard you the first time.”
“With a length of steel off a hoist.”
“It was the closest heavy object. The logistics were not ideal.”
Kael looked at his brother. Looked at Lumi. Looked at the steel links on the ground.
“I retract every reservation I’ve ever had about this relationship.”
“You never voiced any reservations.”
“Internally. I retract them internally.” He stood. “Nyx, are we secure?”
“Perimeter held. Two pack wolves on the exits. NYPD won’t find this building interesting for another twelve hours.”
Kael nodded. “Then let’s get these two idiots to a medic who doesn’t have to work around a woman who growls.”
Lumi’s fingers locked around Zeir’s hand. Her thumb found the inside of his wrist—the pulse point—and pressed there. Deliberate. The mirror of every time he’d tracked her pulse without permission. She was giving him the same access he’d taken: Here’s where I’m alive. Feel it.
He turned his head. Leaned his forehead against her temple. The taste of salt and grit and the faint sweetness that was hers alone.
“Thank you for the chain.”
“You’re welcome. Please never make me do that again.”
“I make no promises.”
“Zeir.”