Walking back into the pack house felt like stepping into the center of a beehive. The air was thick with the scent of bacon, strong coffee, and that unmistakable “wolfie” energy—vibrant, loud, and constantly moving. I could feel the glow still radiating off my skin from the morning in the Beast, a warmth that had nothing to do with the Minnesota sun and everything to do with the man whose hand was currently anchored firmly to mine.
Emmy and Smudge didn’t even wait for an invitation. They bypassed the kitchen entirely, heading straight for the rug by the fireplace where Sergeant was sprawled out like a fuzzy rug. They curled into his old, patient flanks as if they hadn’t just spent the entire night sleeping on a custom mattress. Sarge just huffed, a single thump of his tail acknowledging the feline takeover.
Stormy didn’t head for his usual seat at the head of the long wooden table. Instead, he pulled out a chair right beside his own, catching my eye with a wink that made my heart do that rhythmic stutter. “Sit, V. You’ve got to fuel up. These people eat like they’ve never seen a carb before.”
He wasn’t kidding. The table was a mountain of eggs, sausages, and pancakes that disappeared with a speed that defied physics. I sat there, leaning into Stormy’s side, our fingers entwined under the table as he fed me bits of his breakfast and I did the same. It was domestic. It was easy. It was exactly the kind of love-bird behavior that would have made the old me gag, but the new me was soaking it up like a sponge.
I was so caught up in the banter and the heat of Stormy’s hand that I almost missed the gaze of a slim, older blonde woman sitting further down the table. She didn’t look away when I caught her eye; she just watched us with a cool, unreadable expression that made my “inklings” prickle. But before I could process it, Stormy stood up.
“Listen up,” he rumbled, his Alpha voice cutting through the clatter of plates. “Knight, Rhett, and I are running the perimeter today. We’re getting the night cameras up and synced.” He looked down at me, his hand squeezing mine. “Rhett’s our resident computer wiz. He’s dragging Moon Shadow into the digital age, kicking and screaming.”
Rhett gave a mock salute, his long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. “The future is now, Alpha! Embrace the fiber-optics!”
“Just don’t crash the server again,” Knight muttered, though there was a glint of a smile on his face.
As the men headed out, the house shifted into a different kind of gear. I turned to Gina, who was already gathering up a stack of plates. “Hey, G? Where can I knock out some laundry? The Beast is great, but the ‘laundry mat’ is just a bucket and a prayer.”
Gina pointed toward a doorway I’d mistaken for a storage closet. “Every floor has its own laundry room, honey. That one’s the main. It’s got the industrial machines because, well… wolves go through a lot of flannels.” She winked. “But honestly, V? You don’t have to do that. We have members who handle the house chores as their contribution. Just toss it in a bag, and the ladies will take care of it.”
“Not a chance,” I laughed, the Ohio grit resurfacing. “I’m not that far removed from the road yet. I like to know where my socks are.”
I helped clear the table despite Gina’s protests, and once the house quieted down as the other women headed for the barns and gardens, I grabbed my bag and headed for the laundry room.
I expected a closet. What I found was a bright, updated room with high-end washers, dryers, and cozy tables for folding. But I also found something else.
A tiny, mousy girl—maybe four years old—was practically falling into one of the washers, her small arms straining to pull out a heavy, wet sheet. She looked like a street urchin, her clothes three sizes too big and her hair a tangled curtain she tried to hide behind.
“Whoa, easy there, Little!” I jumped in, catching the sheet before it hit the floor and helping her pull the rest of the load into a basket.
She flinched, pulling back and tucking her chin into her chest. She was skin and bones, her collarbone sharp under her oversized shirt. My heart twisted. I’ve always had a soft spot for the Littles, and this one looked like she was trying to disappear.
“Hey, it’s okay. I’m Veronica. You can call me V,” I said, my voice dropping into that gentle, low tone I used for skittish animals. “What’s your name, beautiful?”
A tiny, squeaky voice drifted out from behind the hair. “…Amara.”
“Amara? Oh my Goddess, what a gorgeous name,” I gushed, setting my own bag of laundry on a table. “Are you helping out today? Shouldn’t you be at school with the other cubs?”
The little one looked up, her eyes huge and wary. “I not doing anyting wong,” she whispered in a baby-talkish lilt. “I’s four. I not go to dat school.”
She clammed up after that, sitting on one of the wooden chairs and watching the clothes spin in the dryer like it was the only thing keeping her anchored. My inklings were screaming at me now. This wasn’t right. Where were her parents? Why was she doing laundry alone and looking like she hadn’t seen a full plate of food in a week?
I didn’t push. Instead, I walked out to the kitchen, followed closely by Emmy and Smudge, who were curious about the new scent. I found a couple of candy bars in the pantry and made a thick, heavy PB&J—the kind with extra jam, just like Gramma used to make.
When I walked back into the laundry room, my fur babies were talking to me, and I was answering them back, a three-way conversation about the merits of tuna versus chicken. Amara’s eyes went wide as the cats hopped up onto the table near her.
“This is Emmy and Smudge,” I told her, sitting in the chair beside her and placing a plate with the sandwich, a glass of milk, and a bottle of cola on the stand between us. I dropped three candy bars next to it and opened a small package of cat treats. “They’re the real bosses of the my bus, I call it the Beast. I’m just their driver.”
I offered her a candy bar, holding it out like an olive branch. I could see her throat move as she swallowed, her eyes fixed on the chocolate with a hunger that made my chest ache. She wanted it, but she looked terrified, like she was waiting for a blow to fall.
“Tell you what,” I said, giving her my best conspiratorial smile. “Think of it as payment. I need someone to help me keep an eye on these two while I get my wash started. They’ve been wanting to meet a nice girl like you all morning.”
Amara’s eyes doubled in size. She looked at the chocolate, then at the cats, then back at me. “I cans… pet dem?”
“If they behave,” I promised. “And they usually behave better when there’s a pretty little girl involved.”
As she reached out a trembling hand, I watched her, the anchored feeling from the morning replaced by a sharp, cold realization: Moon Shadow might be a sanctuary, but for this little girl, the shadows felt a lot bigger than the moon.