The evening sun filtered through the trees surrounding Paul’s cabin, casting golden light across the clearing. The air was thick with the familiar scents of salt and pine, the distant crash of the ocean audible through the open windows. Inside the small cabin, Rachel moved easily around the kitchen, her movements quick and efficient as she chopped vegetables, the sound of her knife hitting the cutting board steady and rhythmic. Jacob had arrived early, wanting to catch up with his sister before the rest of the pack showed up for dinner. Sitting at the small table in the corner, he watched her work, a rare smile tugging at his lips. She seemed comfortable here, happier than she’d been in a while, and it was a relief to see. But something felt off tonight, though he couldn’t place it yet.

Just as he opened his mouth to ask about Paul, the front door creaked open, and someone stepped inside. Jacob turned, expecting to see one of the usual pack members, but what he saw made him freeze.

It wasn’t Sam, or Quil, or anyone else he recognized.

The stranger moved with an unusual ease, stepping into the cabin as though they’d been there a hundred times. They weren’t bulky like the rest of the pack—leaner, with an air of calm confidence that immediately set Jacob on edge. Their eyes flicked around the room, assessing, before landing on Rachel in the kitchen. Without a word, the stranger approached her, moving into the kitchen like they belonged there.

“Need a hand?”they asked, their voice smooth and steady.

Rachel glanced up, smiling as if nothing was out of place. “Yeah, sure. Can you peel these?”she gestured to a pile of potatoes, seemingly unbothered by the stranger’s presence.

Jacob stood up, his instincts flaring. This person—this wolf—was new, and the smell coming off them was… different. Wolf, yes, but with an undertone of something sharp, something that didn’t sit right. He crossed the small kitchen in two quick strides, his eyes narrowing as he came to stand next to Rachel.