"Leave her."
Caine's voice cuts through the silence, low and firm, without a hint of aggression but filled with quiet authority. His eyes are open now, fixed on the teenager with unwavering intensity.
Ron straightens, his posture shifting from confused kid to alert shifter. It's subtle but unmistakable—the way his shoulders pull back, chin lifting? It's his response to an alpha's command.
"Sorry," he mutters, backing away a step. "I just thought..."
"She's fine where she is," Caine says, his tone softer, but no less final.
I glance between them, feeling the weight of Bun growing heavier in my arms. "Actually, I should probably put her to bed properly." Struggling to my feet without jostling her is a new skill, one I'm going to have master as soon as humanly possible. My legs prickle with pins and needles after sitting so long, but I manage to stand without stumbling.
It's a small victory, but I'll take it.
Caine rises in one fluid motion beside me, close enough for me to feel the heat radiating from his body without actually touching him. He doesn't offer to help, doesn't try to take Bun—he just stands there, a silent presence at my back, until I navigate toward the sleeping area.
The children's alcove is warmer than the main cave. While the makeshift beds are all just piles of blankets, Sara and Jer are sleeping so deeply, they don't even twitch as I stumble inside.
I lower Bun gently onto her bed, trying to disentangle her fingers from my shirt. She whimpers, her face crumpling at the loss of contact.
"It's okay," I whisper, smoothing her hair back from her forehead. "I'm not going far. Just sleep now, baby girl."
Something about her pulls at me in ways I can't explain—a fierce protectiveness I've never felt before. I tuck the blanket around her tiny form, marveling at how someone so small could carve out such a huge space in my heart in such a short time.
"Sweet dreams," I murmur, leaning down to press a light kiss to her forehead.
Her fingers finally release my shirt, but latch onto my pinky finger instead. I wait, watching as her breathing evens out again, her grip gradually loosening as she slips deeper into sleep.
When I'm sure she won't wake, I carefully extract my finger and rise to leave—only to freeze at the sound of voices from the main room.
"Tell me about them."
Caine's voice is softer than I've ever heard it, laced with genuine curiosity rather than demand.
I ease back into the shadows between the sleeping area and the main cave, hesitant to interrupt whatever conversation is unfolding.
"Where did you come from?" he continues. "What happened to their parents?"
From my hidden vantage point, I can see Ron's face, illuminated by the faint glow of string lights. He looks wary, chewing on his bottom lip like he's weighing how much to share.
"Don't know about our parents," he says, his eyes fixed on some distant point. "Never had any. Owen found us all separate. Different places, different times. I've been around the longest." One shoulder goes up in the faintest half-shrug. "But the story's the same for all of us. Shifters don't like it when their kids come out wrong."
My heart squeezes painfully in my chest as I watch his expression, hardened into practiced indifference. "Bun was the worst off. She's the first one to come here as a baby. She was starving. Wouldn't eat for anyone."
Fuck.
The mental image is enough to bring tears to my eyes, my stomach threatening nausea.
"How old were you and the others?"
Ron's eyes flick toward the sleeping area—toward me, though I don't think he can see me in the shadows. Then again, he's a shifter.
"Old enough to know we can't trust people easy." He blinks in my direction, his lips curving up on one side. Just a little. Almost imperceptible. "They all like Grace, though."
"And you?"
The kid's stare doesn't waver, his eyes locked onto mine. Hedefinitelysees me, making this standing around listening in a little creepy. Then he looks away. "She's probably the best thing to ever walk into this cave. None of us remember our moms. She feels like one."
He pauses.
