DAVE
The Waiting Game
The FBI tactical van idles in our driveway at 3 AM, its presence a reminder that we're not just a pack anymore—we're a target worth federal protection. Through the kitchen window, I watch Agent Martinez and her partner sweep the perimeter with infrared scanners, looking for heat signatures that don't belong. The ATF has their own unit stationed near the barn, and the Otherkind Criminal Investigation team lurks in shadows that seem to bend around them, their were-agents better suited to supernatural threats than standard federal training could ever provide.
Three wolf pups sleep between Kat and me, their synchronized breathing the only thing keeping the Prime from erupting through my skin. Two weeks and one day old, and they've already become the center of a war the
