I spent a long time steadying myself, forcing my instincts back under control before I made any decision I might regret. In the end, I bought far more food than I needed, enough to keep my son and me hidden inside our den for several days without stepping into pack territory or crossing paths with anyone from the Presgrave line.
As I left the supply hall with heavy bags cutting into my fingers, one of the sentinels stationed near the entrance approached. His scent carried the calm discipline of a trained pack guard. "Miss Tillman, do you need assistance?" he asked.
"No, thanks," I replied with a small, controlled smile. I kept my tone polite even though every instinct in me still felt raw and unsettled.
Even so, I could feel their presence shadowing me at a distance as I crossed into the residential den. It wasn't hostility—it was protection—but right now even protection felt like pressure closing in around my throat.
