I am 15 chapters ahead on my patreón, check it out if you are interested.

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Lucas's Perspective

The drive back to the estate was kind of quiet. Jenny spent most of it humming along with the radio, tapping her fingers against the car door, while I let my thoughts drift. Between last night's full moon and Jackson's little attempt at intimidation earlier, I was more than ready for silence.

By the time we reached the Lockwood estate, the evening light was spilling gold over the grounds. Jenny darted inside, already talking about homework and dinner, while I wandered toward the library. It had quickly become my favorite place here—the faint smell of old leather and paper, the way the rows of books wrapped around me like a fortress.

I was halfway through pulling out a thick history volume when I heard hurried footsteps and Jenny's excited voice.

"He's back!"

Before I could ask what she meant, she grabbed my arm and practically dragged me toward the stairs. "Come on, come on, you have to see!"

She hauled me into her room, straight to the window. When I looked outside, I finally understood.

Sitting just beyond the estate's gate was a large dog. No—more than a dog. A wolf-dog. Its coat was a striking mix of white and black, and its eyes—icy blue, sharp enough to pierce right through the iron bars.

"That's him," Jenny whispered, her voice soft with wonder. "He comes around every once in a while. First time I saw him was a month ago. He's… shy."

Her tone carried a kind of affection that made me glance at her. This wasn't just fascination. Jenny cared.

Before I could say anything, one of the staff appeared, holding out a plate piled with thin slices of salami and ham. "For the dog," the woman said kindly before leaving. Clearly, this had become a bit of a routine.

Jenny grabbed the plate, grinning. "Let's go!"

I followed her downstairs, through the halls, and out into the cool air of the courtyard. As we approached the gate, I felt it—the tension in the air, the way the wolf-dog's body stiffened. His ears went back, tail low, eyes flicking nervously. He was fine with Jenny. But me? I was the problem.

Jenny crouched down just inside the gate, holding out a slice of salami. "It's okay," she coaxed softly.

The wolf-dog didn't budge. His gaze stayed locked on me, wary and sharp. I kept my face calm, my body language loose, but it wasn't enough. He didn't trust me.

So I gave him the truth.

For just a moment, I let the Alpha bleed through—my eyes flashing red as I met his gaze. The message was clear, a silent pulse of authority and reassurance: You're safe here. No one will hurt you.

The tension in his frame loosened. His ears lifted, his breathing slowed. He looked at Jenny again, and some of the fear bled away.

Jenny didn't notice the exchange. She was too focused on him, her hand still outstretched. "See? It's okay," she murmured.

I, on the other hand, saw more than just fear. The wolf-dog's posture, the way he flinched at sudden movements, even the way his eyes never stayed in one place too long. I'd seen it before.

This wasn't just a shy animal. This was a creature that had been beaten down, taught to expect pain from human hands.

I kept that to myself. Jenny didn't need know that.

But when the wolf-dog refused to take the food, I finally spoke. "He's not eating because he's hurt."

Jenny looked up at me, then back at him. That's when she noticed it too—a faint limp when he shifted his weight, the small but telling wound along his back leg. Her face softened instantly, filling with worry.

"Oh no…" she whispered, her hand tightening around the plate.

I stayed quiet, watching the way she reached out again. Gentle. Patient. Kind. For a girl her age, she had more compassion than most adults I'd met.

Jenny turned to me, eyes wide and brimming with determination. "We have to help him. What do we do?"

"The wound's infected," I said after a closer look. "He needs a vet. Sooner rather than later."

Jenny bit her lip. "But… he doesn't let anyone touch him. He barely lets me get close."

I straightened up, brushing the dirt off my hands. "That's not going to be a problem."

Before she could ask what I meant, I stepped forward. The wolf-dog tensed, growling low in his throat, but I met his eyes. His growl died off, leaving only a wary silence.

With ease, I slipped my arms under him and lifted. He was heavier than he looked, muscle and bone wrapped in thick fur, but to me it was nothing. Jenny gasped. "You can just—pick him up?"

"Looks like it." I gave her a small smile as I adjusted my grip. The wolf-dog stiffened but didn't fight.

We made our way to the garage, where I chose one of the larger cars—something with enough space in the backseat. I laid him down carefully, making sure his injured leg wasn't strained. He gave a low whine, but otherwise stayed still.

Jenny slid into the back beside him immediately, stroking his fur with cautious, gentle hands. "You're going to be okay," she whispered.

I climbed into the driver's seat, started the engine, and glanced back at them through the mirror. The sight caught me off guard for a moment—Jenny, fearless in her compassion, and the wolf-dog, finally letting himself relax just enough to lean into it.

Then I turned my eyes back to the road. "Hold on," I told her. "Don't worry, we'll be at the vet in no time."