The peace Lena felt in the newly aired-out room was short-lived. By mid-afternoon, the heavy vibration of an engine—not a pack vehicle, but a finely tuned sedan—reverberated through the Pack House gates.
Marcus was in the foyer before the doorbell even rang. He stood with his arms crossed, his face a mask of professional neutrality, though the slight twitch in his jaw told Lena he was on high alert. Killian stood at the top of the stairs, a shadow in the dim light, his presence a silent threat that Lena knew she had to manage.
"Killian, stay up there," Lena whispered, her voice firm. "If they see you looking like you're ready to hunt, they'll never leave."
"They are on my land, Lena," Killian growled, his eyes darkening.
"And they have a piece of paper that says they can be," Marcus co
