Page 4 of The Hyena’s Guardian

Mac stepped in closer, his voice lowering just enough to cut cleanly through the noise drifting across the meadow. “Reynolds,” he began, then quickly corrected himself. “Matt. You know you have a place here.”

Matt looked away too fast.

“With Valker, without Valker, Army or no Army, you have a place.”

The words still landed hard enough to tighten Matt’s throat. He stared out toward the dark hills beyond the meadow while the hyena beneath his skin went completely still, listening harder than the man himself wanted to. “I know,” he said softly.

Mac waited without pressing him for more, and after a long moment Matt finally let out a slow breath.

“I’m working on knowing.”

Mac nodded once, accepting the answer exactly as it was, and Matt found himself thinking again that this was what made following him different.

Mac never demanded more honesty than someone could survive giving. He just made lying feel useless.

“Good,” he said.

For a little while none of them spoke as music drifted softly through the meadow beneath swaying lantern light. Somewhere behind them Lucero yelled something that earned a threat from Diaz in two separate languages, and the sound pulled a quiet laugh out of Matt before he could think better of it.

“See?” Melvin said. “Home.”

Matt let his gaze drift across the meadow one last time.

Home.

The word settled uneasily beneath his ribs because it carried the kind of promise the world seemed to enjoy testing.

Three weeks later, Matt stood alone in a narrow airport corridor with one duffel at his feet, a black folder tucked beneath his arm, and a Valker contact waiting beyond the checkpoint with no sign, no uniform, and no patience.

His phone buzzed while he waited near security, and when Matt pulled it out he found a text from Mac telling him to let them know when he landed, followed seconds later by another message insisting it was not because he was worried.

A moment later, Melvin texted: He is absolutely worried. Matt smiled despite himself as a third message appeared from Marcus warning him not to get cursed, bitten, buried, recruited by a cult, or emotionally compromised before Thursday. Matt stared at that one for a long second before muttering, “Specific.”

At the far end of the corridor, the Valker contact lifted his chin in silent impatience. Matt slipped the phone back into his pocket, picked up his duffel, and started forward with the strange realization that for the first time since the bite, he was walking toward duty without feeling like he was leaving his pack behind.

Chapter 2 - Matt

The man waiting beyond security did not look military. No regulation haircut, no rigid posture, and no obvious weapon. He looked to be in his mid-thirties and wore a dark coat despite the humidity. One hand remained tucked into his pocket like he had all the time in the world.

The second thing Matt noticed was worse. Nobody looked at him twice.

Crowded airports always had a rhythm to them, and humans noticed disruptions even when they pretended they did not.

He slipped through the terminal like people’s eyes refused to settle on him, moving with the controlled absence of someone Council-trained. Or something close to it.

Matt adjusted the strap of his duffel and approached without slowing. “You always stand around looking like an international kidnapping charge?”

The man’s gaze shifted toward him. His eyes were cool gray and unreadable. “Reynolds.”

There it was again. Just Reynolds. Not Matt, and not even the familiar distance of Specialist Reynolds. For some reason, hearing it here made the warmth of the wedding meadow feel suddenly far away. Matt stopped in front of him. “Good to meet you too.”

“You’re late.”

“I’m exactly on time.”

The man checked his watch anyway. “Close enough.”

No handshake or introduction followed. He simply turned and started walking.