Page 47 of Easy, Tiger

"Then I choose to stay."

"You don't know what that means."

"I know what leaving means." She bridges the gap between us, her hands finding mine. "It means giving up the first place that's felt like home. Giving up the first person who's made me feel like myself again."

Searching her face, I hunt for any sign of doubt or fear masking as resolution and find none.

"Halsey, once you know all of this, there's no version of your life that doesn't include watching your back. Doesn't include lying to people you care about to protect a secret that isn't yours to tell."

"I've been lying to strangers about being fine for six months. I think I can manage lying to protect something worth protecting." Her thumb rubs slow circles over my knuckles. "Besides, you've been doing it for thirty-five years, and you still checked on my woodpecker sketches like they mattered more than anything else in the world."

Behind her, Sadie's shoulders ease, and even Owen's rigid posture loosens by a fraction. Somewhere in the trees, someone exhales loud enough to travel.

"I'm still scared," I admit. "Of what this costs you. Of what happens if I'm wrong about how strong you are."

"You're not wrong. I found a bleeding tiger in the woods and didn't run. I think I can handle whatever comes next."

Wind moves through the clearing, brimming with the mineral bite of the storm that passed through yesterday, and moonlight casts silver over her hair like she's already becoming part of this world. Cupping her face in both hands, I feel the mating bond ripen into something steadier than it's ever been, recognition instead of hunger.

"Welcome to the enclave, Halsey Gallagher."

"Try not to sound so ominous about it."

I laugh, the sound jarring loose something that's been coiled tight in my chest for weeks. Somewhere behind us, I hear Sadie's soft laugh join mine, and in that simple grace, the burden of every secret I've harbored feels lighter for having finally set one of them down.

17

HALSEY

My brain feels like it's been turned upside down and shaken. Twenty minutes ago, the most supernatural thing in my life was Nolan's uncanny habit of appearing whenever I needed him. Now I'm standing in a moonlit clearing, processing the fact that the man I've been spending all my time with transforms into a six-hundred-and-fifty-pound tiger.

"You should see what the enclave is actually about," Nolan says, his voice gentler than it's been all evening.

My chin tilts down in a mute gesture of agreement because words seem inadequate for everything spinning through my head. The logical part of my mind—the part trained to observe and document wildlife—keeps insisting this is improbable. The rest of me remembers those intelligent eyes appraising me with incredible patience while I cleaned a bullet wound.

Sadie emerges fully into the moonlight, her movements fluid and unhurried, like she's spent a lifetime moving stealthily through dark forests. "Want me to show her around?"

"If she's ready."

"I'm ready. I think."

Sadie grins, and for the first time tonight, someone appears genuinely relaxed. "Famous last words."

We follow a path I never would have found, marked by subtle scratches on tree bark and stones arranged in patterns that mask their design unless you're searching for them. I catalog details automatically—the intentionally bent branches and the footprints avoiding specific areas of soft earth.

"How long has this place existed?" I ask.

"The enclave? About sixty years in this location. We move every few generations to avoid drawing attention." Sadie ducks under a low branch, her braid catching moonlight. "The clearing where Nolan told you everything—that's been sacred to tiger shifters for longer than anyone remembers."

The first cabin appears between the trees like something from a fairy tale, built with such skill it seems to grow naturally from the forest floor. Warm light glows behind curtained windows, and smoke flows from a stone chimney. A carved wooden tiger, weathered gray with age, sits guarding beside the front steps, its posture so lifelike I have to check twice to be sure it isn't breathing.

"Osric and Clover live here," Sadie explains as we pass. "They've been mated for thirty years, which is practically legendary in shifter terms."

"Why?"

"We don't exactly have dating apps." Sadie nods toward the carving. "Osric made that the year they mated. Been adding a new one every anniversary since. There's a whole collection out back if you ever want the full tour."

Past Osric and Clover's place, the path widens into a space mimicking a miniature town square: a fire pit ringed with log benches, a clothesline strung between two pines, and someone's forgotten gardening gloves draped over a fence post. It strikes me how ordinary it all feels, how much it resembles Red Pine itself in miniature, just tucked somewhere the maps forgot to mention.