The silence that followed did not feel empty.
It pressed low against Henrietta's skin, heavy and vibrating, like the ground after a distant thunderstrike. Her breath came uneven now, lungs still remembering panic even as her mind insisted she was safe.
She stood where Gideon had left her, leather strip still warm in her palm.
The wolf did not retreat. That, more than anything, unsettled her.
It lingered. It wasn't pushing, clawing, or demanding. Just present and alert. As if waiting for something else to happen.
Henrietta swallowed and slowly unclenched her fingers. Her hand trembled, muscles twitching with leftover energy. She flexed them once, twice, grounding herself in sensation.
"I didn't—" Her voice cracked. She cleared her throat. "I didn't lose it."
"No," Gideon agreed.
He
