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“I want you expected home because you choose to come back.”

She leans up and kisses me beside the truck, coffee tray between us, helmet tucked against her hip.

My phone rings. Dr. Cole.

Pepper sees the name. Her smile fades, but she stays close.

I answer. “Dr. Cole.”

“I’m calling with preliminary results,” she says. “The cloth from the chain carries a GatorX-related signature, but it’s not identical to the samples from previous cases in the area. It looks altered. I’ll let you know when I know more.”

My hand tightens around the phone. Pepper’s fingers slide over my wrist.

Dr. Cole continues, “Ezra’s markers are also unusual. I don’t want to overstate this, but his bond instability may be interacting with exposure, not simply reacting to it. I would like to involve a consult.”

“With who?”

“Dr. Lucy Sawyer. Bond pharmacology and unstable attachment physiology. She’s respected, discreet, and familiar with exposure-linked designation stress.”

Every word sounds like a stranger reaching for Ezra.

“No,” I say before I can stop it.

Pepper’s grip firms.

Dr. Cole goes quiet for half a second. “I’m not asking you to commit to treatment. I’m recommending a consult.”

“What does she need?”

“Records first. Then possibly a remote meeting. No samples without consent.”

“I’ll talk to my pack.”

“Good,” Dr. Cole says. “I’ll send credentials and publications. You can read before deciding.”

The call ends. The street noise rushes back.

Pepper sets the helmet on the passenger seat and turns to me fully. “Tell me.”

“GatorX-related exposure.” My voice sounds wrong. “Dr. Cole wants to involve another doctor. Someone named Sawyer. Specialist. Bond pharmacology.”

“Okay.”

“No.” My throat burns. “It’s not okay. Specialists mean records. Questions. People deciding Ezra is a case. People deciding you’re connected because of your bloodline. People getting close enough to hurt both of you.”

Pepper’s face softens, but she doesn’t step back. “That’s what you heard underneath the words.”

“Yes.”

“What else?”

I look at the woman I’m falling for standing in sunlight with coffee for the man I love.

“I heard hope,” I admit. “And I hated that too.”

Her eyes go wet.

I close mine. “If I let the wrong person near him, I might lose him. If I keep everyone away, I might lose him anyway.”