Chapter 6

The High Pack wasn't happy.

Silas Thorne, their top Enforcer, resigning via text message? Unprecedented.

But they couldn't exactly come after him. Echo Point was still... weird. The Blur hadn't disappeared completely. It was just stable now. Manageable.

We sat on the hood of my Jeep, watching the sunset. The sun was square today. It looked nice.

"So," I said, passing Silas a thermos of coffee. "Unemployed. Disgraced. Living with a feral Solo in a town where the squirrels can teleport. Regrets?"

Silas took a sip, loosening his tie. He hadn't worn a suit jacket in two weeks. He looked relaxed, younger, less like a statue and more like a man.

"The coffee is good," he said.

"It’s diner mud."

"It’s excellent." He looked at me, and that golden warmth flooded through the bond, settling the restless edges of my soul. "No regrets."

He reached out, intertwining his fingers with mine. A tiny spark of static jumped between us—not painful anymore, just a little zap. A reminder.

"We're going to have to fix the gravity in the town square tomorrow," he noted. "Mrs. Higgins’ cat is stuck on the roof again."

"I'll get the ladder," I said. "You handle the physics."

"Deal."

We weren't a normal pack. We were a pack of two, living in the chaos, holding hands while the world did backflips around us.

And for the first time in my life, I didn't want to run. I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

Right in the middle of the weird.