The moment Rowan led Lisa into one of his houses—a villa tucked safely within his territory—her entire face lit up. She stepped inside, eyes wide at the polished wood and the rich scent of cedar lingering in the air.
"Rowan, this place is beautiful!" she gasped.
He slid one hand into his pocket, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "From now on," he told her, "this will be our home… our little family's new den."
Lisa darted toward him and planted a kiss on his cheek—light, sweet, eager.
Her warmth struck Rowan unexpectedly, and for a heartbeat, Audrey's face flashed across his mind.
Audrey—steady, composed, always holding her emotions on a tight leash. She had never kissed him like that. Never rushed toward him with girlish joy. She was all restraint, cold moonlight instead of warm sunlight.
Rowan caught himself thinking of her and let out a low, self-mocking huff.
Why was she creeping into his thoughts now?
"Rowan!" Lisa snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Are you zoning out? I literally just said something."
"What?"
"I said, to celebrate moving in, I want spicy BBQ for dinner!"
Rowan hesitated. Audrey had always banned spicy food—said it would tear his stomach apart. After he had been poisoned once, his stomach never fully recovered.
She used to brew those bitter herbal concoctions for him, fussing over him like some desperate she-wolf trying to keep her dying mate alive.
Annoying… but he drank them.
And for years, his stomach had never once rebelled.
Now, thinking back, Rowan snorted inwardly. Maybe she had exaggerated the danger—just another way to control him under the disguise of care.
He wrapped an arm around Lisa's waist and murmured, "Whatever you want, we'll eat."
Fen, who had been listening with wolfish curiosity, chimed in instantly. "Me too! If Lisa likes spicy food, then I need to train my tongue to handle it!"
Lisa burst out laughing. "Fine, but don't cry later when it burns."
"I won't! I'm a man! I'm a strong wolf!" Fen puffed out his chest like a little alpha.
***
Audrey was riding with Riley toward the old apartment her father had left her—a small place, but in good territory. After marrying Rowan, she had moved out, leaving it sealed like a shrine to her past.
Riley parked and glanced her way. "Ms. Audrey, feeling down about the divorce? Want me to take you out for dinner?"
Audrey paused, then shook her head. "Wrong. I'm in an excellent mood. Leaving a jerk frees the spirit." Then she sighed. "But I do need help cleaning."
Everyone used to call her cold. But Audrey wasn't cold. She was simply composed—always thinking, always bearing too much. That had been her only flaw.
They climbed the old building—five floors, no elevator. Audrey pressed her thumb to the lock she had installed years ago, and the door clicked open.
Dust weighed heavily in the air. She was deciding where to begin when her phone rang.
A strange number.
Suspicious.
"Audrey?" a rich, deep voice rumbled—low, magnetic, with a familiarity she couldn't place at first. A voice like a wolf calling through fog.
"You are…?" she asked.
"Where are you?" he said.
Suddenly, it clicked. "Dorian."
Her brows knitted into a frown. "What do you want?"
He sighed softly, his voice dipping into something gentler. "Bonnie had another attack. The pack's doctor couldn't help her this time. You treated her before… Could you see her again? Since your leg is injured, we'll come to you instead."
Dorian had noticed her wounded leg. Instead of insisting she travel to him, he offered to bring his child. That alone softened Audrey a little.
She had always had a tender spot for children—maybe because she had once lost her own before the world ever met her.
"…Alright," she said finally. "Come over."
She hung up and turned to Riley. "Sorry. No dinner. I've got someone coming."
Riley smirked. "This your new guy? Dorian… I swear I've heard that name."
Audrey tapped his forehead. "Don't be ridiculous. He's my patient."
Half an hour later, Dorian arrived—tall, broad-shouldered, storm-eyed—with little Bonnie in his arms.
Audrey had prepared a small bed. The girl lay there sweating, fragile, whimpering softly.
Seeing her pulled Audrey back to memories of Fen's childhood fevers—nights when she had nursed him with trembling hands while Rowan paced and growled, restless, blaming her, demanding answers, desperate for his son to get better.
Dorian's presence filled the room almost instantly. He stood like the looming alpha he was—tall frame, long legs, narrow waist. He explained quietly, "She felt sick after dinner. The pack's doctor checked her—same issue."
He sounded helpless. Hopeless. A father who had fought too many losing battles.
Audrey crouched at the bedside, soothing Bonnie before beginning treatment.
Within ten minutes, the child relaxed. Her breaths steadied. She blinked up at Audrey, calm and trusting, her dark eyes shining like dew on night fur.
"It's all better now," Audrey whispered.
When she stood, her injured leg trembled slightly. "Normally, this shouldn't flare again so soon. Maybe something she ate triggered it."
Dorian's expression darkened. He pulled out his phone. "Check tonight's dinner."
Silence settled after he hung up.
"Mr. Wayne, you can leave—" Audrey started, but then her stomach growled.
Loudly.
Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. She hadn't eaten all day—she had spent the whole time waiting for Rowan and Fen to come home… and then everything had fallen apart.
Dorian laughed softly. "Ms. Willow, forgive me for taking so much of your time."
Audrey forced a nod. If they left soon, she could cook something simple.
But Dorian didn't leave.
Dizziness hit her. Finally, she admitted, "Mr. Wayne, I haven't eaten all night. I'm afraid I can't entertain—"
"I already ordered food," he said simply, sitting on her sofa and crossing his long legs. "I hope you don't mind."
Audrey had no words. He had already done it.
***
Back at the villa, Lisa, Fen, and Rowan devoured the juicy, spicy meat.
At first, the fire in the spices felt thrilling—like a challenge. Fen ate until his face went red, lips numb, but kept insisting he wasn't hurting.
With Lisa laughing and egging them on, Rowan kept eating too.
But after dinner, when he slumped against the sofa, a sharp pain twisted in his gut—sharp enough to blacken the edges of his vision.
His stomach issues—the ones Audrey had kept at bay for years—
They were back.