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“Tortellini al Forno,” Jorge announced proudly. “With my special cream sauce. The recipe was passed down from my mentor in Florence—though I may have added a few touches of my own.”

“He means he ignored tradition and added truffles,” Maria commented, passing me the garlic bread.

“Tradition is meant to be enhanced!” Jorge defended.

I caught Miguel and Anna exchanging fond looks across the table as the familiar argument continued. The brothers seemed content to let the bickering wash over us, more focused on ensuring my plate remained full than mediating the culinary debate.

“You need more protein,” Derek murmured, adding another helping of something that smelled amazing to my plate.

“I need to still be able to move after dinner,” I protested, though the aroma was making resistance difficult.

“You’re healing,” Marcus reminded me. “Your body needs fuel.”

“My body needs to not explode out of my clothes,” I muttered, but took another bite anyway because damn, Jorge’s cooking was worth any potential wardrobe crises.

Caleb’s eyes darkened. “We wouldn’t mind that.”

I choked on my tortellini. Derek helpfully patted my back while shooting his brother a look.

“Behave,” Marcus warned, though his own eyes had taken on that heated quality that made my stomach flip.

“I am behaving,” Caleb protested innocently. “I’m just saying, if Kai needs new clothes…”

“We’re at dinner,” Derek reminded them, but his hand had shifted from patting my back to resting possessively on my neck.

“Yes, we are,” Maria cut in pointedly. “A family dinner. Behave, all of you.”

The rest of dinner passed in a comfortable blur of amazing food, playful bickering, and the brothers’ increasingly obvious attempts to touch me at every opportunity. By the time Jorge brought out the soufflé—which was, as promised, perfect—I was full, warm, and maybe a little drunk on both wine and attention.

“Shower,” Marcus declared once the dishes were cleared. “Then rest.”

“I’m not actually tired,” I protested, though my body betrayed me with a yawn.

Caleb escorted me to my room—apparently my permanent room now—like I might get lost in the manor I’d been visiting for weeks, his kiss landing dangerously close to my mouth. “We’ll be right downstairs if you need anything.”

The shower was perfect, like always—because of course it was; everything in this manor was perfect. I had just finished drying off and changing into my own sleep clothes when I remembered my phone. The old one was definitely dead now, screen completely black despite my best efforts to revive it. Thank God for Marcus’ timing with the new one.

I was just starting to transfer my stuff over when it happened. Luke’s contact photo lit up the screen. So much for waiting twenty-four hours.

“I can’t sleep,” he announced without preamble the moment I answered the call. “I’ve been staring at my ceiling for hours, thinking about how weird you sounded this morning. Something happened. Something big. And now Eomma’s acting strange—like burning-sage-and-muttering-in-Korean strange.”

I shifted against my pillows, watching as Shadow nudged the door open wider with his nose. The three dogs padded in like they owned the place, which honestly, they kind of did. Shadow claimed his usual spot on my left, Storm took up his tactical position at the foot of the bed, and Scout sprawled dramatically across my legs.

“Luke…”

“Don’t ‘Luke’ me. You had a date with three suspiciously perfect guys, then you call me being all cryptic about ‘not very friendly people’ showing up? And now my mom’s unlocking her special tea cabinet—you know, the one she keeps hidden behind that weird painting? Start talking.”

“I’m fine,” I tried, absently scratching behind Shadow’s ears. “Just… had an interesting night.”

“Interesting like that time we tried to make kimchi in our dorm room, or interesting like that time you swore you saw shadows moving in the forest?”

I winced, remembering Marcus’ earlier promise about protecting them. Trust Luke to bring up all my weird incidents that suddenly made a lot more sense. Well, at least I didn’t have to worry about getting permission to tell him the truth anymore.

“So… remember how I always said my mom was kind of paranoid about doctors?”

“Yeah, because of some weird family thing—wait, what does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything, actually.” I took a deep breath, drawing comfort from the warm weight of the dogs around me. “Luke, what I’m about to tell you is going to sound crazy…” I paused, then decided to just rip off the Band-Aid. “I might be a quarter werewolf. And those three guys I’ve been seeing? They’re actually alpha wolves. Like, literal wolves. Who can shift. Into very large wolves. With very sharp teeth.”