Page 47 of Lone Wolf

“Pretty much.” I shrug, oddly pleased that she’s analyzing my actions. “Works for most things. Fear. Pain. Jerks.”

“Hmm.” Her expression turns contemplative. “Not a bad approach.”

“Just so we’re clear,” I say, lowering my voice so only she can hear, “I don’t plan on pretendingnotto be really into you.” I hold her gaze, making sure she understands. “If that’s going to be a problem…”

“It’s not,” she interrupts, and I think there’s an actual faint blush coloring her cheeks. It’s so unexpected, so human, that I want toreach across the table and kiss her again. “I’m just…not used to this.”

“What, public displays of affection?”

“Anydisplays of affection,” she corrects, but there’s no bite to her words.

I finish the last of my pancakes, swiping a finger through the remaining syrup. “Well, get used to it, babe. I’m a very affectionate person.” I suck my finger clean of syrup and wink at her.

“I’ve noticed,” she says dryly, but her eyes are bright with amusement.

We finish our breakfast in companionable silence. Around us, the dining hall buzzes with the usual morning activity, but it feels different somehow. Like we’ve claimed our own little bubble in the chaos.

“At least one nice thing will have happened to me today,” Ariadne says as she stacks her plates neatly on her tray. “Since group therapy starts later this morning.” Her voice is flat, but I can see the tension returning to her shoulders. “WithScarlett and Katy. And Dr. Khatri has decided to hold this charade outside, of all places.” She shakes her head slightly. “As if fresh air will magically cure everything.”

“Mine starts after breakfast,” I tell her, trying to keep my tone encouraging. “But Dr. Khatri told me to report to the therapy room.”

Ariadne meets my eyes, and for a moment, I see a flash of concern there. “You’ll be okay?” It’s half statement, half question.

I’m actually looking forward to it. Kind of. Ineedsomeone to talk to, someone who isn’t Ariadne. Because a lot of what I want to talk aboutisAriadne. How she makes me feel. Whether we can figure things out like I hope we can?—

I cut off that thought. “Always am,” I say with more conviction than I feel. “Anyway, I better get moving. What about you? Going to the gym?”

She nods. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

We stand together, and for a moment, I hesitate. Then I lean in and press a quick kiss to her cheek. “Good luck with your session later.”

She doesn’t pull away, doesn’t flinch. Progress. “You, too.”

We part ways at the dining hall exit—Ariadne heading toward the training wing, me toward the administrative section where Dr. Khatri’s office is located. My stomach churns with nervous energy as I walk, and I find myself wishing I’d gone lighter on the syrup.

The hallway leading to the therapy room is quiet, the soft carpet muffling my footsteps. When I reach Dr. Khatri’s door, I pause, taking a deep breath before knocking.

“Come in,” calls a voice that isn’t Dr. Khatri’s.

I push open the door to find not only Dr. Khatri waiting for me but Hadria Imperioli as well. The Boss is standing by the window, her tall figure silhouetted against the morning light. Dr. Khatri sits in her usual chair, clipboard in hand, expression professionally neutral.

“Santiago,” Hadria greets me with a slight nod. “Apologies for the unannounced intrusion.”

“Boss,” I acknowledge, fighting the urge to stand at attention. My heart hammers against my ribs. What is this? Why are they both here?

Dr. Khatri stands, smoothing down her tailored pants. “I’ll wait outside to give you two a moment,” she says, offering me a reassuring smile that does nothing to calm my nerves. She slips out, closing the door softly behind her.

I stare at Hadria, fear clutching at my throat. “Have you changed your mind?” I ask, hating how small my voice sounds. “Are you kicking me out after all?”

“No,” Hadria says, her voice gentler than I’ve ever heard it. “No, it’s nothing like that. Please, sit down.”

I sink into one of the armchairs, perching on the edge like I might need to flee at any moment. Hadria takes the seat opposite me, her posture perfect as always, but there’s something in her gray eyes that looks almost...human.

“Sunny,” she says, and the use of my first name sends a fresh wave of unease through me. “We’ve been looking into your sister, Marisol.”

Hope and dread war in my chest. “You found something?”

Hadria takes a breath, and I know. I know before she says the words.

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