Three more months of small pay.
Level 18 came in on dungeon grit and errands that never asked me to ruin a floor. Strength 15. Vitality 15. Will 22. Archive ate every room I stood in. I asked cleaner questions and still missed half the answer. Paper stayed burned. The phone stayed in the drawer.
Then Tess did not sit.
She stood in the middle of the bedroom like the chair had offended her. Rafael was behind her, that same smile he wore when he wanted something to break and call it policy.
"The river path tonight," she said. "Not a lobby. Not a signature. The kin decided courtesy was optional. They smelled a shipment that was not theirs and left teeth in a lock that was. Victor wants a conversation. Rafael wants a bruise. I want you seen standing with us so they remember this roof has a warm body in it that does not run when the trees move."
Rafael rolled a shoulder.
"Bully the wolves, King. They understand theater. You stand there looking like you could shove a truck. I talk. If one of them grows a spine, you don't freeze. That is the assignment."
"That's a fight with extra steps."
"It is a reminder," Tess said. "Packs respect a roof until they test it. We are the test coming back. You may refuse. If you come, you do not get to pretend this is still the quiet half of the year."
Archive took the room without being asked. Rafael's patience was already thin. Tess was calm in that court way that meant she had picked the ending before she knocked. I did not open their heads. The rule still held.
"If this turns into a mess, I'm not doing it so you have a story."
Rafael laughed.
"Then don't miss. Missing is how stories start."
Tess's eyes caught the window light. Gold at the rim.
"Wear the older name. Leave the rest of last year in the closet. They need to see a man who belongs next to us, not a boy who got lucky once."
I changed. Dark shirt. Jacket that cost more than it should. No hoodie. The Mark sat at about ten kilometers and did not care about wolves.
The river path after dark was gravel, water, and breath you could see. Cold bit through the jacket. Anton was already there, which meant Victor had signed the bruise and sent someone who still thought about consequences.
Three guys came out of the trees like they had been leaning on the dark the whole time. Not full change. Shoulders set wrong. Eyes on movement, not faces. The one in front had a lock bent almost double, metal folded like someone had used it as a toy.
He looked at me first.
"So that's him. Told you they had some guy tagging along."
Anton did not take it.
"That lock was ours. The crate too. You don't get to sniff our stuff and walk off with a souvenir."
Rafael stepped past him, still pleasant, which was worse.
"You get a warning. Next time the lock comes back attached to whoever bent it."
Vein Map kicked hard. Three hostile. Fast. Heavy. Not ghouls. Not chalkboard copies. Real heat, real intent.
Dying Gaze laid a film on the bank. Old ending. Something had fed here years back. Not tonight. Deep Ledger kept the rest from piling into a crowd.
The guy in front leaned toward my throat and sniffed like I was a bag left on a porch.
"He's off. Not pack. Not one of you either. What is he."
Tess answered from my left, light as a toast.
"He is the part of the roof that walks in daylight. You do not receive a category. You receive the reminder."
Archive offered their thoughts the second they got close. Heat. Insult. The lock's name in their head. A longer plan than this path. I left it shut. I did not need a warehouse to see how this went if somebody flinched wrong.
The lock hit the gravel by Anton's shoes.
"Fine," the front one said. "We heard you. Keep him off our dirt. Next time we take something that actually yells."
Rafael's smile thinned.
"Say that again."
Tess did not look at Rafael. She looked at me.
Stand. Don't freeze. Don't give anyone a headline.
The second one did not bother with talk. He came straight in, shoulder toward my chest, testing whether I was still the person who folded when something bigger hit first.
I did not Pulse Step. I did not touch Reflect. I planted and met him.
Strength 15 is not a gym brag. It is a parked car with the brake on. He hit and the path lost the argument. He bounced. Surprise showed first. Anger second.
"Hey," Anton said. "Don't."
Too late. Rafael wanted theater. The third one went for him. Tess was already there, coat still clean, one hand on a throat that had assumed she was scenery.
The first one came back at me. I caught the jacket and put him on the gravel the same way I had walked a fridge up a flight of stairs. No stance. No class. Enough weight and a bad night's worth of practice. Claws raked my ribs through the shirt. Vitality started closing it while I was still standing. Iron in my mouth. Held Breath kept the panic from turning into a sound.
"Enough," Tess said.
Court sat in the word. They felt it. Packs understand a roof when the roof actually bites.
The front one spat blood. Real blood. Not grit. Not a System receipt.
"Cool. Point made. Stay off the green."
They went back into the trees. The lock stayed. So did the smell of wet fur that never fully showed.
Rafael straightened his cuffs, pleased in a way that made my teeth itch.
"See. He pushes."
Tess checked the tear in my shirt like it was an invoice.
"You did not freeze. Good. You did not finish them. Better. Victor receives his conversation. Rafael receives his bruise. You remain useful and not a caption."
Anton picked up the lock. The metal still held fingerprints I did not need Archive to name.
"They'll come back worse. That's what a stunt like this buys."
"Then we buy it on purpose," Rafael said.
I walked off the path before I asked Archive what they were saying in the trees. The shape was already obvious. You shove a pack in public, they do not write it off as weather. They wait. They pick a longer souvenir.
The rib line was already trying to become a memory. Clot Memory helped. Archive highlighted the whole thing anyway. First real pack contact. Not a copy. Not a crate.
On the townhouse stairs I tagged what mattered and let the rest file itself.
Not paperwork. Real. I put a wolf on gravel and he bounced. The number did not jump like the garage. The System still knows a copy from a person. So do I.
Tess and Rafael got their reminder. Packs do not forget reminders.
Half a year gone. The quiet work is not the whole job anymore.
Mark: 9.8 km. Closer than last month. Laundry still had a calendar I was not invited to read.
I changed shirts, washed the iron out of my mouth, and left the basement shut.
Nobody needed a notebook.
Archive already had the gravel, the lock, the thought I did not say out loud.
I could still refuse the next one.
I already knew they would send it anyway.