"Good morning," Clayton says with a smile, and I step back to let him into the apartment. He pauses for just a moment when he sees Selene, and I wait for the questions—but he doesn''t ask any.

    He''s polite like that.

    Honestly, outside of my paranoia and not wanting to rely on him, he seems like a pretty great guy.

    Clayton strides into the kitchen like he owns it—which, I mean, he does—while I stand around feeling awkward and out of place in this fancy apartment. He seems so at home here, like he belongs.

    "Everything okay with the phone?" he calls out from the kitchen. "You didn''t text me this morning."

    "Oh, uh, no issues," I reply, glancing down at the sleek new device on the end table. "I just woke up a little while ago and haven''t set it up yet."

    There''s a brief pause, and then the sound of a pot clattering onto the stove. "Have you eaten?"

    I shake my head, even though he can''t see me. "No, not yet."

    "Well, go relax then. I''ll whip up some breakfast."

    Before I can protest, he emerges from the kitchen, those intense green eyes fixing me with a look that brooks no argument. Grasping my shoulders, he turns me towards the plush couch and gives me a gentle nudge in that direction.

    "Go on, I''ve got this."

    I open my mouth to argue, but one glance at his resolute expression has me snapping it shut again. Instead, I just nod and make my way over to the couch, sinking into the soft cushions with a sigh.

    Selene, ever my loyal companion, leans against me as she focuses on her show, resting her head on my lap. I absently run my fingers through her soft fur, trying to ignore the sounds of Clayton puttering around in the kitchen.

    It''s weird, having someone else cook for me. Take care of me. I''m so used to being the one doing all the work, all the cooking and cleaning. Having someone else step into that role makes me feel uncomfortable. Lazy.

    But at the same time, there''s a part of me that''s relieved to have someone else shoulder that burden for a change. To be taken care of, instead of being the one doing all the taking care. It''s just breakfast, but he just came in and took over, like—

    Like an alpha who thinks he''s my mate.

    I shake my head, trying to dislodge those thoughts. I can''t afford to get too comfortable here, too used to having Clayton around. This isn''t permanent, no matter how much he might want it to be.

    "...Grey girl seems to be at the center of it all..."

    The mug almost slips from my fingers, and I barely manage to catch it before the scalding liquid spills all over my lap. My breath catches in my throat as I process those last words.

    The Grey girl. Me?

    Panic starts to claw its way up my chest, constricting my lungs. Are they looking for me? Have they found me? Is that why Clayton has me holed up here, under the guise of protection?

    My gaze darts towards the hallway, half-expecting to see a squad of enforcers bursting through the door to drag me back to that miserable existence. Back to the pack that never wanted me, the family that treated me like a burden.

    Of course, they don''t come. Clayton doesn''t know my last name; he has no idea that I''m the girl he''s talking about.

    Right?

    Because if he did, he would have to send me back to my pack.

    Selene must sense my distress because she licks my face, her warm body pressing against my leg in a silent show of support. I run my fingers through her soft fur, drawing strength from her presence as Clayton''s voice rumbles on.

    "...need to deal with it as soon as you do, no matter what..."

    Deal with who? The packs? Me? War? The questions swirl through my mind like a whirlwind, threatening to overwhelm me.

    Part of me wants to confront Clayton and demand answers, but I don''t want to tip my hand. I don''t think he knows who I am. I have no idea how he''ll act once he finds out, either. So I just need to make sure he never has a clue.

    I watch as Clayton ends his call, his brow furrowed in a way that makes the lines on his forehead stand out more. He runs a hand over his face, and I can almost feel the stress radiating off him.

    Doing my best to act casual, I guzzle the rest of my coffee and head into the kitchen, pretending I just needed to put my cup away. Clayton''s already getting ready to wash the dishes.

    "Hey," I say, and I can''t keep the worry out of my voice.

    Clayton looks up. "What''s wrong, Ava?"

    "Do I need to worry about this war between the packs?" I ask, deciding to stick with blunt and practical as my approach.