I go inside with Axel and Atticus, the cool of the stone giving way to the familiar warmth of the packhouse, and I can feel their concern pressing in on either side of me even though neither of them says anything straight away. Axel’s hand stays at my lower back, not guiding so much as checking, and Atticus keeps pace on my other side, his attention still angled outward like he expects Hazel to come flying out of a corner even though she’s already been dealt with.
“I’m fine,” I say eventually, breaking the silence as we move down the hallway, “I’m not rattled.”
Axel glances down at me, his expression tight. “She tried to attack you.”
“I know,” I reply calmly, because that part doesn’t scare me anymore, “and I could have handled her just fine even if you two weren’t there.”
Atticus exha
