Run Little Wolf

Goldie

Lia

Erin's voice broke through the chill of the room, "Here—Bet you're freezing." Fabric whispered across my skin as she offered me some clean clothes.

I dressed hastily beneath the towel's scant shield, shivering not from cold but the naked vulnerability of my situation. The room was stark, utilitarian, and echoed with the ghosts of countless interrogations. It had no warmth, no comfort—until now.

Goldie—or Cole, as I'd later learn—leaned against the doorway, his gaze an unsettling mix of curiosity and accusation. His presence filled the space, a silent sentinel keeping watch.

As Cole retreated, his words, half-caught, half-lost, tangled in my ears. "I'll take her to my wing," he insisted, locking horns with Ethan in a silent battle of wills.

Ethan's response, a low growl barely contained by human vocal cords, sent a shiver down my spine. "She'll stay in my quarters—where she's under my protection."

I felt like an artifact, a precious thing being bartered over, yet their concern was genuine—if not a little suffocating. "I don't need a keeper," I asserted, my voice finding strength I didn't feel.

They turned, their hardened facades softening as if they'd forgotten I was more than a chess piece in their strategy. "Lia, it's not about needing," Ethan's voice softened, "it's about belonging."

Cole's eyes held a glimmer of agreement, his stance less confrontational. "He's right. You're safest with us."

Their insistence was a weighted blanket—smothering, yet oddly comforting. I was a puzzle piece in a picture I couldn't yet see, an enigma even to myself.

Cole eventually won out, his argument a masterstroke of logic veiled in brotherly concern. "It'll look more proper for her to be with me," he said, a smirk dancing at the edge of his lips.

Ethan ceded, his sigh a capitulation. "Keep her safe, Cole."

Cole's promise was a playful challenge, "Always, brother."

Under Cole's arm, warmth replaced the chill of fear. We left the room, Ethan's silhouette a silent sentry as we departed. The pack house unfolded before me, a labyrinth of shadow and silver, and I was but a ghost flitting through its halls.

Cole's domain was a stark contrast: a haven of warmth and understated elegance. He showed me to a room that whispered of sanctuary. "Rest here," he murmured, "you're safe."

His departure left silence, but in its wake lingered a sense of safety—a feeling foreign and familiar all at once. In this new world shrouded in mystery, perhaps I had found an unexpected refuge.