The classroom was already alive with morning chatter little wolves darting between cubbies, tails swishing, some half-shifted and others still clinging to their fur. Rowan stood by the door with his clipboard, greeting each pup as they tumbled in one by one. The familiar chaos had a rhythm to it until the school secretary approached, a small boy tucked nervously behind her legs.

“Mr. Hale, this is Peter,” she said. “He’ll be joining your class starting today. He and his guardian just moved to town.”

Wide green eyes peeked out at him, wary and solemn. The boy’s backpack looked comically large against his tiny frame, his shaggy brown hair falling into his face. Rowan crouched down, offering his hand with a warm smile.

“Hi, Peter. It’s nice to meet you.”

Peter hesitated, then slipped his little hand into Rowan’s. And that’s when Rowan froze.

A scent familiar, impossible swept through him. Not Peter’s scent, but something older, deeper. His wolf stiffened, whining with urgent recognition.

Mate.

This boy carried his mate’s scent. Rowan swallowed hard, keeping his voice steady. “Would you like to hang up your backpack? The toys on the rug are free to play with right now.” Peter gave a shy nod and scurried inside.

The shock left Rowan reeling, the air punched out of his lungs. His wolf, usually patient and steady, thrashed in his chest, restless and demanding. Mate. Find mate. The little one has their scent.

Rowan forced himself upright, his professional mask sliding back into place. “Thank you, Mrs. Davis,” he murmured, his voice rougher than usual. “I’ll take it from here.”

The day blurred past in fragments. He taught colors and shapes with practiced ease, but his gaze drifted again and again to Peter quiet, polite, sitting on the edge of the group like a solitary star. The boy’s presence thrummed against Rowan’s senses, his mate’s essence clinging to him like an invisible tether. Questions gnawed at him. Parent? Sibling? Aunt? Who was it?

At last, the 3:00 bell rang, sharp and cheerful. The children scrambled for their backpacks, laughter filling the room. Rowan knelt to help Peter with the oversized zipper, his heart hammering harder with each passing moment.

Parents trickled in, an alpha father wrangling his twins, a gentle omega mother offering him a shy smile and a coffee, a grandmother with a bark for a voice and a heart of gold. One by one, each child left. Until only Peter remained.

Then it came.

The scent slipped into Rowan’s lungs like a memory, familiar and impossible at once. Not sharp, not overwhelming just a quiet certainty that wrapped around him, warm and steady. His wolf stilled, breathless, ears pricked forward. Mate. The word wasn’t a demand this time, but a truth.

Rowan’s chest tightened as he lifted his gaze.

Standing in the doorway was someone new, their eyes sweeping the room before landing on Peter then on him. The moment stretched, the air charged with recognition neither of them could name yet. Rowan’s wolf pressed close against his skin, aching with a soft, urgent joy.

There they were. His fated mate.