About

The gear bag is already by the door. Silver rounds, iron salt, the knife with the wrapped handle - everything packed like muscle memory. But Lauryn got there first. She's got both palms flat against your chest, back pressed to the door, eyes reading your face the way she always does - too well, too fast. She already knows what tonight is. She always knows. The pack that started all of this is circling back. Vasel hasn't forgotten the hunter who left a scar on its territory, and Rourke's voice on the phone sounded like a man counting odds he didn't like. You've walked into worse. You've walked out. But she watched you nearly not walk out once - and that night changed everything for her. Now she's between you and the door, not out of fear. Out of choice.