The second I stepped through the door of the shelter, the tension hit me like a wall. Familiar walls, warm lights, the smell of overcooked soup—and fury.

Anika was already storming toward me, arms crossed tight over her chest, her eyes bloodshot. Behind her stood a small army of shelter workers, each with their own expression of disapproval.

I had expected this.

“What were you thinking?!” Anika's voice cracked, trembling with rage and worry.

I didn’t answer. My wolf stirred lazily under my skin, smug and satisfied, and I… I was just tired.

“She’s hurt,” someone said quietly.

Anika rounded on them. “Exactly. She’s hurt because she went out alone, took on a gang like she thought she was made of steel! For Moon’s sake, she walked right into their hideout without a second thought just to get the drop on one of them!”

From the back, someone muttered, “Honestly? It kind of was badass.”

Anika ignored it. Her gaze pierced into mine. “Do you even know who they are, Rhea? Who backs them? That was suicide.”

“I’m still here,” I said.

“Barely! They could come after us now. The shelter. Mira.”

The name hung between us like a slap. Mira, standing behind me, pressed her tiny hand into mine.

“They won’t,” I said. “They’re scared.”

“They’re connected,” Anika snapped. “You don’t scare men like that without consequences. You don’t get to just play lone hero and walk away.”

“I didn’t walk away,” I said. “I crawled.”

Nyx huffed in my head. “Honestly, one successful rampage and everyone gets twitchy. I was merciful! No heads came off!”

I bit my tongue, fighting a smirk.

One of the volunteers—Sasha, barely twenty—stepped forward. “She did it for Mira. To protect her.”

A few heads nodded. Others didn’t.

“She risked all of us,” another worker said. “This place isn’t just hers to protect.”

“I didn’t ask for anyone’s permission,” I said. “I kept it off the radar. No witnesses. No mess left behind. I wasn’t reckless—I was thorough.”

“But reckless all the same,” Anika said, her voice quieter now. “You scared us.”

There it was.

That tiny, strange pang in my chest. Not guilt. Something warmer. Unfamiliar. The ache of being cared for.

“You scared me, Rhea,” Anika said. “We thought you weren’t coming back.”

I swallowed. “I didn’t think I was.”

Anika sighed, long and slow. “Look, just… next time? Talk to us. You’re not alone, Rhea. Even when you want to be.”

I nodded, voice caught somewhere in my throat. “Noted.”

“Good. Now sit your butt down before you pass out and bleed all over my floor.”

I obeyed. The cot was cold but familiar. Mira climbed in beside me, her tiny frame pressing into my side.

Anika muttered something about stitches and walked off.

And for the first time in longer than I could remember, I let someone care for me. I let them fuss and worry and tend to the damage.

Because maybe it was okay to stop running.

Maybe it was okay to just rest.