The dress felt like a cage made of silk. Akira stood rigid while Luanne's fingers worked the zipper, each tooth catching like judgment on her spine. Blue fabric—pack colors—wrapped her body in ways that made movement feel calculated instead of natural. The material whispered against her skin, too soft, too civilized for someone who'd spent millennia in fur and frost.
"Stop growling." Malia's voice carried therapist patience stretched thin. "It's just clothes."
"Is torture." The words scraped out harsh. Modern clothing confused her—all these layers and fastenings when skin served better. "Cannot fight in this. Cannot run."
"You're not supposed to fight." Luanne stepped back, assessing with the critical eye of a woman who'd birthed alphas. "You're meeting the pack families. First impressi
