The Shape of Silence

Chapter Six: Callum

The glass doors of Cavell Enterprises whispered open on well-oiled hinges as Callum stepped inside, his expression thunderous. The receptionist barely looked up before glancing quickly away, shrinking in her seat as though trying to disappear behind her monitor.

No one spoke.

He passed three of their senior team in the hallway, and all of them found some excuse to veer off in the opposite direction—two into the break room and one into a conference room with the lights still off. Even the intern he usually greeted gave him a wide berth, pretending to scroll something urgent on his phone.

He didn’t blame them.

Callum said nothing as he strode down the corridor, his polished shoes echoing dully on the tile. When he reached his corner office, he opened the door hard enough for the hinges to groan. The satisfying thud it made when it slammed shut echoed like a gunshot in the silence.

Rowan was already there, leaning against the bookshelf, one finger trailing idly along the spine of a leather-bound copy of European Trade Policy Post-Transition. He didn’t flinch at the noise, just raised an eyebrow.

“So, I take it that went well?”

Callum exhaled sharply and sank into his office chair. “I blew it. Completely. Beyond fixing.” His hands curled into fists, the tremble in his fingers betraying him.

Rowan turned, his usual humor dialed down to something quieter, more grounded. “What happened?” he sat opposite Callum, hands folded, ready to listen.

Callum started from the beginning. Her false name. The way she avoided him at the diner. Her snapping replies. How her scent carried wariness, fear, and anger all braided together—and how her glare cut deeper than any words she could have thrown at him. He told Rowan about following her on her break, about the confrontation by the trash bins, and the look in her eyes when she shoved the crumpled address into his chest.

“I let my frustration get the better of me. I called her feral, uneducated, and blamed her family.” A humorless chuckle tore from his throat. He continued dryly, “She sent me to her family. And there was no one there. Just graves. I stood there like a i***t. And it was them. Her parents. Her whole family.” His voice caught on the last word, chest tightening.

Rowan blinked. “Oh.”

“She doesn’t have anyone. And I—” Callum pressed a fist to his mouth. “I accused her of being feral. Of being raised with no manners. Said maybe she was taught that mate bonds weren’t real. I asked who raised her.”

Rowan winced. “Oof.”

“I didn’t know. But that doesn’t change what I did.”

Silence stretched between them, the city’s pulse drifting far below the glass.

“You could apologize,” Rowan offered gently.

Callum let out a bitter laugh, shoulders slumping as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I doubt she’ll even open the door if she sees me again. I was—”

“A jerk?” Rowan supplied.

Callum huffed. “Put mildly, yes. But she’s right to hate me. Especially if she really grew up with no one. Rogues are rare, and rarer still to survive their first shift.”

Rowan nodded soberly. “Yeah. The foster network is supposed to catch them before that happens. They’re placed in werewolf households, mentored, protected. If she slipped through... she must’ve been completely on her own.”

Callum’s voice lowered, rough with guilt. “Do you think someone got hurt when she shifted that night?

“I hope not,” Rowan said. “But... maybe.”

Callum scrubbed his hands down his face. “She’s not safe out there alone, Ro. Untrained, unclaimed, with no pack. If the council learns she’s a rogue….”

“They’ll mark her as a threat.”

“Exactly.”

A beat of silence passed between them.

Then Rowan stood, stretching his arms above his head with a thoughtful look. “She hasn’t met me.”

Callum blinked up at him.

“She doesn’t know we’re twins,” Rowan said. “I could go talk to her. Try a different approach. Friendly. Gentle. Fresh start.”

“She’ll kick you out.”

“She might,” Rowan agreed with a shrug. “But she might not. She’s already met one of us on a bad day. Maybe it’s time she meets the charming one.”

Callum arched a brow. “I am charming.”

“You’re intimidating—like most alphas are when they want to protect someone.”

“She needs protecting.”

“She needs kindness and patience,” Rowan said, not unkindly. “Maybe that’s my role.”