Page 41 of Easy, Tiger

"Give her time." Owen's beard twitches with dark humor. "She's processing the idea that our most cautious leader wants to spill century-old secrets to an outsider."

Slouching back against the stone fireplace, I feel the residual warmth from dying embers seep through my flannel shirt. "Halsey isn't an outsider anymore."

"She's human, Nolan. That makes her an outsider by definition."

"So was your grandmother when she married into the Maren bloodline. Integration isn't impossible."

Owen stands, his ranger boots heavy against the floorboards as he crosses to the window. He pulls aside the blackout curtain barely enough to peer into the darkness beyond.

"My grandmother didn't arrive carrying scientific training and an eye for patterns that could expose everything we've protected." His voice bears the heavy responsibility that comes with coordinating enclave security. "Love is clouding your judgment, cousin."

"Love is clarifying it."

Owen releases the fabric of the curtain and faces me with a serious air in the candlelight. "Explain that."

"For thirty-five years, I've lived half a life. Human by day and shifter by night, I was never fully either one. Holding back and choosing duty over desire." Turning away from the fireplace, I pace to the opposite wall where old photographs outline previous generations of our families. "Halsey makes me want to be whole."

"And if being whole destroys everything our ancestors built?"

"Then we build something better. Something that doesn't require hiding who we are from the people we love."

Owen's laugh contains no humor. "You think it's that simple? We reveal ourselves and hope for acceptance?"

"I think Halsey has already accepted me without knowing the full truth. She sees something worth protecting when she finds injured animals. She risks her safety to help creatures she doesn't understand. That's not someone who would betray us out of fear."

"That's someone who might betray us out of principle. Scientists value truth above comfort, Nolan. What happens when she decides the world deserves to know about us?"

The question sits heavy in the space between us, refusing to dissolve. Owen searches my face for doubt he won't find.

"You've already decided, haven't you?"

"Yes."

He sighs, the sound shouldering decades of shared responsibility and mutual respect. "Then I hope you're right about her."

Owen moves toward the door, pausing with his hand on the latch. "For what it's worth, I've never seen you this settled. If she's the reason..." He shrugs. "Maybe some risks are worth taking."

The door closes behind him with a soft thud, leaving me alone with the dread of what comes next. Blowing out the candles one by one, I let darkness swallow the corners of the room. Outside, engines start and fade as the last enclave members disappear into the night.

Sitting in the darkness for several minutes, I listen to the mountain silence and feel the mating bond pulse steadily in my chest—a compass pointing toward Halsey's cabin three miles away. She deserves the truth, even if it changes everything between us.

Especially if it changes everything.

15

HALSEY

Grey light filtering through the cabin's windows wakes me, accompanied by the particular calmness that comes before weather changes. My internal clock reads past six, earlier than I've been rising lately, but something pulled me from sleep with unusual urgency.

The first thing I do is walk through each room, checking corners and closets with meticulous thoroughness. Yesterday's violation sits under my skin like a splinter—the knowledge that someone entered my space, touched my things, and rifled through my work. But this morning, everything remains exactly where I left it. My sketches lie undisturbed on the kitchen table. The deadbolt bears no signs of tampering. Even the small piece of thread I wedged in the back door frame last night stays precisely where I placed it.

"Paranoid much, Gallagher?" I mutter, though the tension finally leaves my shoulders anyway.

Outside the kitchen window, steel-grey clouds mass against the mountain peaks like an advancing army. The air possesses that electric weight that makes my skin prickle with anticipation. Checking my phone's weather app, I grimace at the forecast—consistent rain starting around noon, continuing through tomorrow afternoon. Perfect timing for the final push on my field guide illustrations.

I've been putting off the high-altitude species for weeks, telling myself I needed perfect conditions. But perfect conditions don't exist when you're working against weather patterns and seasonal migrations. The storm will drive wildlife to lower elevations and force them into predictable shelter patterns. If I want authentic behavioral references for the guide, I need to be out there before the rain starts.

Sliding on my heaviest hiking boots, I layer a wool sweater under my weatherproof jacket. My field pack gets loaded with sketch supplies, emergency gear, and enough food for a full day outdoors. The familiar weight drapes across my shoulders like an old friend's embrace.