Elara POV:
We reach the border at exactly five. Not because a time was set, but because it feels right.
The land shifts as we approach, subtle but unmistakable. Another Alpha’s territory brushes against my awareness, not sharp or invasive, but steady, like a hand resting at the small of my back rather than pressing between my shoulders. Caelan’s pack carries weight without aggression, knowing it has never needed to prove itself.
My father walks beside me, unhurried, his presence calm and self-contained. He doesn’t test the boundary or flare his authority. He simply arrives as himself.
That has always been enough.
Ahead, the trees thin. Caelan waits just inside the line. He’s dressed simply — dark shirt fitted close, sleeves pushed back — but there’s nothing casual about the way space
