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His t-shirt swallowed her smaller frame, hanging to mid-thigh and sliding off one shoulder. The sight of her in his clothing triggered something primal—a need to scent-mark and claim.

"Be my guest." He sat on the edge of the bed, presenting his shoulder to her.

Maya's touch was clinical at first as she peeled away the makeshift bandages, but Kieran caught the slight tremor in herfingers when she applied more of the healing salve she'd found in his cabinet.

"This should have taken weeks to heal," she murmured, her scientific mind warring with disbelief. "It's almost gone."

"Perks of being what I am." Kieran caught her wrist before she could pull away. "Thank you, Maya. Not just for this—" he gestured to his wounds, "—but for trying to secure the cabin. The window, the door. Smart thinking."

Her eyes widened slightly at the praise. "I wasn't sure it would hold, but it seemed logical to create some barriers."

"Logical and brave," he corrected, pulling on a navy henley that stretched across his shoulders. "Most humans would be catatonic after what you've seen."

"I'm not most humans." The defiance in her voice delighted him.

"No," Kieran agreed, reaching for his phone. "You certainly aren't."

He dialed Damon's number first, his mind already mapping out contingencies. His Beta answered on the first ring.

"Sir."

"I need you at my cabin. Bring Malcolm for sure, maybe a few others you trust." Kieran kept his voice level, his eyes on Maya as she busied herself straightening the sparse cabin. "We have a situation."

"The human witness?" Damon's voice remained neutral.

"And three dead Granite Ridge wolves." Kieran watched Maya freeze at his words. "I'll explain when you get here."

He ended the call and crossed to where Maya stood, her back rigid with tension. Without hesitation, he placed his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him.

"You have my word, no harm will come to you," he promised, his voice dropping to a growl. "Anyone who tries will answer to me."

She studied his face, those remarkable eyes searching for deception. "Why? Why risk everything for me?"

The truth burned in his throat—mine, forever—but he swallowed it back. There would be time for that revelation.

"Because some things are worth fighting for," he said instead, brushing his thumb across her cheek. "Now, let's clean up this place before my reinforcements arrive."

ELEVEN

MAYA

Maya wrung out a blood-soaked rag into a bucket of now-crimson water, trying not to think too hard about the three sheet-covered bodies in the corner of the cabin. Thirty-six hours after the attack, the coppery smell still clung to everything, making her scientific mind catalog unwelcome details about coagulation rates and decomposition.

"You missed a spot." Kieran's deep voice sent an involuntary shiver down her spine as he knelt beside her, his shoulder brushing against hers.

His navy henley stretched across his chest as he reached past her to scrub a particularly stubborn bloodstain. The fabric pulled taut, revealing the muscular contours of his back. How was it possible he'd nearly died just yesterday? His healing rate defied every biological principle she'd ever studied.

"Your recovery is incredible," Maya said, tucking a loose strand of copper hair back into her braid. "Statistically impossible, actually."

Kieran's mouth quirked up at one corner. "Going to write a research paper about me, Dr. Collins?"

"The scientific community would never believe me." She gestured to the bodies. "Not without evidence."

"And that evidence stays in this cabin," he said firmly, his eyes flashing with something primal that made her stomach flip.

Maya tugged at the borrowed black t-shirt she'd tucked into her hiking pants. "I wasn't planning on?—"

The sudden crunch of boots on gravel outside silenced her. Kieran was on his feet in an instant, positioning himself between her and the door with a fluid grace that reminded her he wasn't just a man but something altogether more dangerous.