Silas was the easiest Alpha to understand because he rarely spoke.

He didn't fill quiet spaces with questions. He didn't insist that Eli look at him. He never stood in a doorway when Eli needed to pass.

Every evening, he sat in the hall outside Eli's room and read.

At first Eli watched from behind the door. Later, he began leaving it open a few inches.

Silas never mentioned the change.

One afternoon, Eli found a sketchbook on the low table in the quiet room. Beside it lay colored pencils and a note.

FOR ANYTHING YOU WANT TO SAY WITHOUT WORDS.

There was no signature, but Eli recognized Silas's neat handwriting from the labels on the garden maps.

He drew a wolf.

It was a clumsy drawing, with one ear much larger than the other. He stared at it for a long time, then tore the page out and left it near the hallway chair.

That night, Silas found it.

He looked toward Eli's half-open door.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

Eli retreated beneath his blankets, his face hot.

The next evening, Silas arrived in wolf form.

Eli heard claws clicking softly on the wooden floor and froze. A huge black wolf stopped several feet from the doorway, its blue eyes bright in the lamplight.

The wolf lowered itself to the floor.

Eli stared.

He knew the smell. Pine needles, cold air, and the faint metallic scent of the officer who sat outside every night.

Silas.

The wolf rested its head on its paws.

Minutes passed.

Eli opened the door another inch.

The wolf didn't move.

Eli had seen wolves before, but only through reinforced glass. Laboratory wolves were usually restrained, sedated, or enraged. Nobody had allowed him to watch one sleep peacefully.

He sat on the floor inside his room.

The wolf blinked slowly.

Eli reached one hand into the hallway, then pulled it back.

Nothing happened.

He tried again.

Silas remained still.

Eventually Eli touched the tip of one black ear.

The fur was softer than he'd imagined.

Silas's tail gave a single, careful thump.

Eli startled, then leaned forward again.

He stroked the ear once more.

A small sound escaped his throat, not quite a laugh. The wolf's eyes closed.

Eli stayed beside him until his legs grew tired.

When he returned to his blanket nest, Silas remained outside, a dark shape against the warm hallway light.

Lucien later asked Silas whether he thought the wolf form was helping. Silas considered the question carefully. In wolf form, he explained, he couldn't give commands or reach for medical equipment. He could only wait and let Eli decide. Lucien nodded. Perhaps that was the point. Eli had lived among people who could do anything to him. Now he needed people who were willing to do nothing until he asked. Silas looked toward the hall and said he could manage that.

The next morning, Ronan discovered a black wolf curled outside Eli's door.

“You've got to be kidding,” he whispered.

Silas opened one eye.

“You get to be the favorite because you don't talk?” Ronan asked.

Silas shut his eye again.

Ronan muttered something unflattering and went to the kitchen.

He spent an hour making biscuits. The first batch burned. The second collapsed. The third was edible, though he wouldn't have served it to anyone with standards.

He left one on a plate near Eli's breakfast tray.

Eli inspected it cautiously. It was shaped like a wolf, except one leg had broken off.

Ronan stood at the far end of the hallway, pretending to examine a painting.

Eli took a tiny bite.

His expression changed.

Ronan straightened.

Eli took another bite. Then he looked up and gave the smallest nod.

Ronan nearly dropped the painting.

The next afternoon, Silas left the garden door open while he worked at a small bench outside. Eli watched from the threshold. There was no pressure to join him. After twenty minutes, Eli ventured onto the stone path and sat beneath a tree. Silas continued repairing a broken lantern. A breeze moved through the branches, carrying the smell of rain and moss. Eli tilted his head toward the sky. Nobody had ever allowed him to sit outdoors without a guard holding his leash. When Silas finally looked over, Eli was staring at a bird as though it were a miracle.

That evening, the weather turned cold. Wind pressed against the windows, and the mansion settled with unfamiliar creaks.

Eli retreated to his room early.

Silas came in wolf form again. He lay outside the door, leaving the passage clear.

Eli touched his ear, then rested his palm on the broad, warm head.

The wolf exhaled.

Eli leaned his cheek against the fur.

He did not notice when he began to cry.

Silas remained perfectly still.

The tears came silently, soaking into black fur. Eli couldn't explain them. He wasn't being hurt. Nobody was demanding anything. Yet the kindness felt so unfamiliar that his body didn't know how to hold it.

Silas turned his head just enough to look at him.

Eli wiped his face quickly.

The wolf did not follow when he moved away.

Ronan saw Eli touching the wolf's ear through the open door. He almost made a joke, then stopped himself. The Omega's expression was peaceful in a way Ronan had never seen. He walked away quietly and told the household staff to keep the corridor clear. When Cassian complained that the west staircase was temporarily inconvenient, Ronan told him to use the east one. Cassian looked down the hall, saw the black wolf, and said nothing more.

Ronan saw Eli touching the wolf's ear through the open door. He almost made a joke, then stopped himself. The Omega's expression was peaceful in a way Ronan had never seen. He walked away quietly and told the household staff to keep the corridor clear. When Cassian complained that the west staircase was temporarily inconvenient, Ronan told him to use the east one. Cassian looked down the hall, saw the black wolf, and said nothing more.

Later, Silas shifted back into human form behind a closed guest-room door and returned to find Eli asleep in his nest.

He was about to leave when the Omega stirred.

Eli's lips moved.

Silas stopped.

The sound was almost inaudible, a breath shaped around something lost.

“Ma…”

Silas crouched outside the doorway, careful not to cross the threshold.

Eli's face tightened. His hands searched blindly across the blankets.

“Ma…”

A name? A memory?

Silas reached for the sketchbook lying beside the door and wrote down what he had heard.

He would ask Lucien in the morning.

Then Eli made another sound.

“Mae.”

Silas's chest tightened.

Eli opened his eyes and saw him. Terror flashed across his face, followed by shame. He pressed his lips together and pulled the blanket over his head.

Silas remained where he was.

“You don't have to say anything,” he whispered.

The blanket trembled.

“I'll be outside.”

He returned to the hallway chair.

After a long time, a hand emerged from beneath the blanket and reached toward the open doorway.

Silas looked up.

Eli held out the corner of his favorite wool throw.

An invitation, perhaps. Or simply a request not to be left alone.

Silas accepted the edge without pulling it.

He sat on the floor beside the threshold, holding one end while Eli held the other.

Between them, the blanket formed a small bridge.

Neither spoke again.