The noise of the hunting party faded behind them as they walked down the main path. Armond's hard features finally relaxed, the tension leaving his jaw.

Evan was still fuming. He kicked a stone hard, sending it skittering into the bushes. "I hate him," Evan muttered. "He always acts like he owns you."

Kala chuckled. She reached out and ruffled Evan's messy hair, messing it up even more. "You were very brave just now," she praised. "Like a real warrior."

Evan's pout vanished instantly. He puffed out his chest, and a fluffy tail popped out from under his shirt, wagging proudly behind him.

A booming voice echoed from up ahead. "Armond! Little Kala!"

Ridge Mason was walking toward them. He was a towering warrior who had just finished his patrol shift. He had a broad, easy smile on his face.

Ridge's eyes swept over Kala, pausing for a moment of obvious appreciation. "Looking more beautiful every day, Kala!" he laughed, his voice carrying no malice, only cheerful boldness. "No wonder the males are lining up to be your mates!"

He turned his grin on Armond. "Hey, Armond! When are you going to pick a few strong ones for her? You can't keep her locked up forever!"

The air stopped moving.

Armond stopped walking. The warmth that had just returned to his face vanished, replaced by a mask of absolute, chilling fury. His eyes became blades of ice, pinning Ridge to the spot.

A suffocating wave of pure, heavy Alpha pressure erupted from Armond, pressing down like an invisible boulder. He didn't unleash his killing intent this time, but the sheer weight of his aura was enough to choke the air out of the surrounding space.

Ridge's smile froze. Sweat poured down his temples, soaking his collar in seconds. His legs began to shake, his knees threatening to buckle. He had touched the most sensitive nerve of the Padilla family. Everyone in the pack knew Armond was intensely protective of his daughter, but no one realized that even a harmless, well-meaning joke could ignite such a terrifying reaction from the lion.

Armond took a step forward. His voice was a low, deadly rumble that sounded like it came from the depths of a grave. "Shut your mouth."

"My daughter," Armond growled, "does not need any filthy male stink on her."

Armond's fist rose. A faint red glow began to pulse around his knuckles-the sign of his spatial ability charging up. He was about to lose control.

Kala moved. She didn't try to grab his arm; she jumped onto his back. She wrapped her arms tightly around his thick neck, pressing her cheek against his ear.

"I'm hungry," Kala whined, her voice dripping with honeyed sweetness. "I want the roasted meat only you can make. Please, Father? I'm starving."

The red glow around Armond's fist flickered and died. The scent of his daughter-mint and safety-and the feeling of her soft arms around him acted like a bucket of water on the fire of his rage.

He slowly lowered his fist. He threw one last, murderous glare at Ridge. It was a look that promised a slow death if they ever crossed paths again.

Ridge scrambled away, nearly tripping over his own feet in his rush to escape.

Armond turned his head, his face transforming instantly. He smiled warmly at Kala, patting her hands where they clasped his shoulder. "Of course, my little Mender. Let's go home right now."

Evan stared at his father, his jaw hanging open. He couldn't believe the speed of the change. One second a monster, the next a doting father.

They walked the rest of the way in peace. Armond was already mentally executing every male who had ever looked at Kala.

They rounded the final bend. Their large, two-story cabin came into view. Warm light glowed from the windows.

Kala's smile vanished.

Armond let out a low, dangerous growl from his throat. Beside him, Evan didn't hesitate this time. He yanked the bone knife from his belt, the blade glinting in the moonlight.

Standing in the shadows of their front porch was a tall figure.

Caleb Quinn stood there, holding a bouquet of rare, glowing medicinal herbs. He was waiting for them, silent and uninvited, like a ghost that refused to be exorcised.

Evan roared. He didn't think. He just charged, the bone knife raised, ready to carve Caleb into pieces.

Kala's hand shot out. She didn't grab his collar; instead, her fingers moved like lightning, precisely clamping down on the meridian points of Evan's wrist. A sharp numbness shot up Evan's arm, instantly dissipating his forward momentum. Using his own weight against him, Kala smoothly redirected his force, making him stumble backward and land hard on his butt.

"Why?" Evan yelled, twisting his head to look up at her. His face was a mask of frustration and confusion. "Why are you stopping me? He's trespassing!"

Kala didn't answer him directly. She looked at Armond, catching his eye. She gave a tiny, almost imperceptible shake of her head.

Armond's jaw clenched. The urge to rip Caleb limb from limb was screaming in his blood. But his daughter asked for patience. He forced himself to stand still, a pillar of lethal threat, his aura pressing heavily against the porch.

Kala took a deep breath. She pulled Evan to his feet and dragged him a few steps away, lowering her voice.

"Look at what he's holding," Kala hissed into Evan's ear.

Evan glared at the porch. "I don't care what he's holding."

"That is Pearl-grass," Kala said sharply. "It's extremely rare. Augusta Frye needs it for her potions. If you attack him now, you are the one causing trouble. The Council will use it against us. Against Father."

Evan froze. He hadn't noticed the herbs. He had only seen the enemy. His shoulders slumped slightly, the fire in his eyes dimming.

"He's still a creep," Evan muttered stubbornly.

Kala sighed. She cupped Evan's face with both hands, forcing him to look her in the eyes. Her gaze was serious, stripping away all the teasing.

"Listen to me, Evan," Kala said, her voice low and firm. "I am not some naive girl who will be bought by a few weeds and sweet words. I know exactly what I want."

Evan blinked, suddenly paying attention.

Kala pointed a finger at Armond, who stood like an iron tower behind them. "I want someone like Father. Mature. Steady. Not some impulsive, arrogant pup who thinks fighting is the only way to prove himself."

Armond, who had been radiating murderous intent, suddenly perked up. The corners of his mouth twitched violently upward. The killing intent vanished, replaced by a smug, almost arrogant pride. He puffed out his chest.

Evan looked at his father's ridiculous, proud expression and rolled his eyes hard. But the anger in his chest finally settled. Caleb was nothing like Armond. Caleb was a joke.

"Put the knife away," Kala ordered, releasing Evan's face. "Keep the Padilla dignity."

Evan slid the bone knife back into its sheath. He walked over to stand beside Armond, mimicking his father's protective stance.

Kala turned back to the porch. The warmth in her eyes vanished, replaced by the impenetrable mask of official courtesy. She walked up the wooden steps, stopping just out of arm's reach from Caleb.

Caleb had watched the entire exchange. A flicker of jealousy crossed his features before he masked it. He held out the Pearl-grass, the stems wrapped in broad leaves.

"The Council of Elders asked me to deliver this to you," Caleb said, his voice low and smooth, using the official errand as a shield for his presence. He tried to sound gentle, but the intensity in his eyes betrayed him. "They said Augusta Frye desperately needs it for her potions, and I volunteered to climb the Broken Cliff to get it for you."

Kala looked at the glowing herbs. The dew on them sparkled. It was a calculated move. He was trying to buy her gratitude with her duty.

She didn't reach for them. She simply stared at Caleb, her face unreadable.

Behind her, the air grew thick. Armond and Evan were staring holes into Caleb's hands, ready to pounce if he made a single wrong move.

Caleb's patience thinned. He pushed the herbs forward again, the leaves almost brushing the fabric of Kala's dress.

A low, vibrating growl echoed from the yard below. Armond's foot pressed against the stone path, and a hairline crack snaked out from his boot.

Kala smiled. It was a polite, empty thing.

She reached out. But she didn't take the stems. Her fingers pinched the very edge of the broad leaf wrapping the bouquet. She plucked it from his hand without a single millimeter of skin contact.

Caleb's hand hung in the air, empty. A flash of disappointment crossed his face.

"Thank you, Caleb," Kala said, her voice crisp and professional. "I will deliver this to Augusta Frye immediately. I will make sure to tell her of your contribution to the clinic."

The words were a slap in the face dressed as a compliment. She had taken his romantic gesture and filed it under 'public donation.'

Caleb's jaw tightened. The careful mask slipped for a second, revealing the anger beneath.

From the yard, Evan let out a loud, mocking snort.

Caleb took a sharp breath, forcing himself to calm down. "Will you be collecting dew at the forest edge tomorrow?" he asked, trying again. "I could escort you."

"No," Kala said instantly. "I will be processing these herbs all day. I will be at the clinic."

Caleb's pride stung. He was the elite warrior of the pack, and this female was treating him like a delivery boy. He wanted to push, to demand, but her smile was so perfectly polite that he had no angle of attack.

Armond finally moved. He walked up the steps, his massive body filling the space between Kala and Caleb. He looked down at the younger male, his eyes cold and dismissive.

"Padilla family dinner," Armond said, his voice a deep rumble. "No outsiders allowed. Get out."

Caleb's fists clenched at his sides. He knew he had lost this round. He gave Kala a stiff, formal warrior's bow, turned on his heel, and walked down the steps.

As he passed Evan, Caleb threw a look of pure, unmasked contempt at the boy.

Evan bristled, his hand flying to his knife, but a sharp look from Armond froze him in place.

Caleb disappeared into the darkness. The oppressive atmosphere on the porch finally lifted.

Armond turned around and immediately snatched the Pearl-grass from Kala's hands. He held it away from his body like it was a dead rat.

"Take this filth," Armond grumbled, shoving the bundle into Evan's chest. "Throw it at that old woman Augusta first thing tomorrow."

Kala laughed out loud, the sound ringing clear in the night. She pushed open the heavy wooden door of the cabin.

Warm, orange light spilled out, along with the mouth-watering smell of roasting meat.

Kala stepped into the entryway. She was just bending down to unlace her boots when Evan's voice rang out from behind her.

"Kala!" Evan whined, his tone dripping with sour jealousy. "You were so nice to him. You didn't have to be that polite. Don't tell me you actually like that fake guy?"