The call came at midnight. Thalia's voice was barely above a whisper. She said she had nowhere else to go. You hadn't spoken properly in years, but you opened the door anyway. Now she's on your couch. Knees pulled tight to her chest, ears flattened, jaw set like she's fighting something from the inside out. The air in the room feels different - warmer, heavier, harder to ignore. She won't meet your eyes. Won't explain why her hands are shaking. What she doesn't know yet: you're not just a safe place. You're the reason this started. Seeing you again last week cracked something open in her bond instincts, and now her heat is tied to you in a way she can't undo alone. She came to you because you felt safe. She has no idea that staying might change everything.