Beau

The courthouse in Jackson smells like floor polish, bad coffee, and old paper. It's the least romantic place I've ever been. My wolf rumbles unhappily in my chest. And if Rhea wasn't holding a death grip on my fingers, I think my wolf would have torn out of my skin an hour ago.

She fidgets with the collar of her blouse, biting the inside of her cheek. Her long dark hair is twisted back, exposing the smooth column of her neck.

"Sure you want to do this?" I ask.

She glares at me. "You can't back out now. I already paid the filing fee."

I grin. "So this is really happening."

"It's happening."

For a second, we just look at each other. She's got that glow about her—something quiet and radiant. Maybe it's the late September light cutting through the windows, or the way she smells like rainwater and wildflowers. Or maybe it's just her.

The woman who learned she was a werewolf, saved my pack, graduated law school, and still wakes up in my bed every morning like it's the most natural thing in the world.

The clerk behind the counter clears her throat. "If you're ready?"

Rhea steps forward with all the confidence of an alpha and slides her documents across the counter.

"Reaffirmation of Land Stewardship, Forrester Trust," she says.

The clerk flips through the pages, scanning the contents, the notarized signatures. She nods. "Looks like it's all in order. You're good to go."

Just like that. No fanfare. No ceremony.

But as the clerk stamps it, I feel the shift.

The land is safe again. Official. Protected.

With the title and proof of stewardship Rhea found in the county records office, the little firm we hired was able to file an injunction against Crestline. With Rhea's knowledge, she helped expose a few of the shadier legal loopholes Crestline was using. And with a few posed photos of gray wolves hunting on the mountainside, we were able to shut down the development plans for good.

Rhea exhales beside me like she's been holding her breath for three years. She leans into my side, fingers still looped through mine. Her grip is firm, but I can feel the tremble breath it. Relief. Pride. Maybe even disbelief.

"You did it," I murmur.

"We did it." Her voice is quiet. "Took long enough."

We step out into the bright fall air just as a wedding party moves past us. Lace and flowers and bright smiles. One of the bridesmaids mistakes our joined hands, Rhea's glowing smile, for something else and calls out, "Congratulations!"

Rhea just flashes her a smile. "Thanks."

I kiss the back of her hand.

Neither of us correct her.

Back in the truck, Rhea kicks off her heels. The moment we hit the highway and mountain air floods the cab, my wolf eases in my chest. He's happy to wait until tonight, the full moon, when his mate will run beside him.

"I heard from Lila," Rhea says, closing her eyes as the wind washes over her. "She sent another letter. I think she's doing okay."

"Yeah? Noah finally figure it out?"

Rhea laughs. "He built her a greenhouse."

Over the last few years, our pack has shifted. Grown and shrank as members moved. When the wolfsbane wore off, we talked about going after Kade and Nora, rescuing Lila. Turned out that Lila didn't need any rescuing once a few of my betas made it to Alaska: the little omega had her alpha wrapped around a finger.

Jonas found his mate in the Yellowstone pack and brought her back. Celia's daughter decided she wanted to explore the world before settling down and taking over as pack healer. Marcus claimed he needed one final time to prove Delilah wasn't coming back and took off into the woods last year.

We never found trace of Nora, but her wolf's always been good at hiding. I don't expect we'll ever find trace of her. Not if she doesn't want to be found. My wolf growls a little at that, the betrayal still sharp.

"And she said something strange," Rhea adds, drawing me back. "There's a woman like me in one of their ally packs. A half-wolf."

It's been one of our recurring arguments. Rhea determined to look for more hidden wolves, me focused on keeping her safe from Kade and others like him.

"Rhea—" I start.

"Don't start with the protective alpha bullshit," she warns, cutting me off with a sharp look.

My wolf grumbles in my chest. And I agree with him, a little, it's not bullshit. Not when it comes to her. It's unconscious, but my hand finds her neck, her shoulder, and traces the scar there.

"And don't think you can distract me either," she murmurs. But her dark eyelashes close a little. She leans into my touch. I can't get enough of the feel of her skin, the warmth of her body. That she's mine. That I'm hers. The bond hums between us, steady and grounding.

"I'm not trying to distract you," I say finally. "Just thinking."

Rhea rolls her eyes. "Thinking about taking my blouse off, sure."

I laugh, but the weight that's been settling in my chest doesn't lift. "I'm always thinking about that, but no." I watch the road, the horizon. "Owen might have found something. Couple of somethings, actually."

That get's her to sit up straight.

"Remember when he was digging through old message boards trying to find if he could get ahold of Lila?" Since I didn't grow up with a hot-wired internet, I don't understand the technicalities of it, but Owen has tried to explain—more than once—that a lot of the younger werewolves tend to use old message boards, deep threads, private forums to chat. Modern werewolves. I continue, "He's found a few sites that seem to be people chatting in code. Describing strange dreams. Scent sensitivity. Symptoms that sound a lot like heat."

She whispers, "Hidden wolves."

"Maybe," I shrug. "Could be a bunch of humans grasping at shadows."

"Or could be others like me."

"I know," I say softly. "I know it could."

Rhea doesn't say anything, but I can feel her pulse quicken through our bond. In the past years, I've watched her grow more and more comfortable with the pack, met some of her friends in school and work. The strange, icy little mate I found at the town hall has thawed, a little. She's still got a sharp tongue and a biting edge of humor, but she isn't alone anymore. And I don't think she wants anyone else to be, either.

So I keep going.

"So I thought... maybe we don't go to them." I glance at her. There's a flicker of green and gold—her wolf's—in the deep brown of her eyes. "Maybe we make something here. Something stable. Something loud enough that if someone like you is out there, they'll hear it."

Rhea's brow furrows. "Like a shelter?"

"No," I say. "Like a beacon."

She studies me with a sharp glance, the hazel growing stronger.

"A sanctuary," I clarify. "For anyone who needs it. Especially hidden wolves. Owen says we could mask it online, make it hard to find unless you already know what to look for. Let them come to us."

Something in her softens and I feel a rush of tenderness through our bond. She doesn't look at me as she asks, "And you'd support that? Even if it means putting the pack at risk?"

"I'll build the goddamn sign myself," I murmur. "If you want to help them. You're alpha too, Rhea. You lead with me. If you think this is the right thing, let's do. With our pack. With me at your side."

Silence settles between us, but not a heavy one. Since we completed the mating bond, her ability as a hidden wolf solidified the pack. We still get the occasional slip up from the younger wolves, but control is easier. Our wolves are more intelligent, and we've grown stronger for it. We're cleverer than any other pack that would try to harm us. Cleverer than the humans that would see us evicted from our territory.

It certainly helps that Rhea's wolf is a giant deterrent. Literally.

I don't think we'll ever truly understand how her presence affects the pack. Not really. Maybe we are becoming less wild. More human.

But I'm not sure that's a bad thing.

Not in this world that is running out of wild spaces.

Rhea finally turns to me and threads her fingers back through mine, her voice is quiet. Certain.

"Then let's build it."

I don't have to say yes. We've already started.

It's in the cinnamon in my coffee and the scattered pile of manila folders across the coffee table. In her laughter. In the nights she curls around me, all teeth and tenderness.

I didn't want to be alpha. Not truly. The idea of creating a safe life for the pack, not just to survive, but to actually live, always seemed to impossible to be realistic. There were too many details to consider. To many threats. Too many ghosts.

But now it seems obvious. Because she's impossible, too.

I tip my head to the horizon, where the sky has begun to blush with the promise of an autumn evening. The forest waits, quiet and golden and wild. And protected.

Our little sanctuary.

Rhea's already watching me when I glance at her, like she can hear every single one of my thoughts through the bond.

She smiles.

The woman who never belonged to a pack, but wants to build one anyways.

With her beside me, I feel like I'm more than an alpha. Stronger. Kinder. A man who leads not because he must, but because he can create something better.

The land will outlive us. These trees, this sky, this soil. But what we build here—the things we can protect—might just be wild enough to live forever.

When we cut off the highway and into the pack lands, a full moon waits for us.

And my mate, my beautiful Rhea, is already glowing. Green and gold.

I follow her into the forest.

Like I always will.