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“Omega workspace quarter.” Selena leads us back inside, through a corridor that smells like laundry soap and wood polish. “Housing for pack members who live on site, warriors, healers, teachers, staff. Your house is in the east quarter. We passed it on the way in.”

We did. The cedar siding. The porch. The smoke curling from the chimney like a promise.

“Administrative offices.” Another corridor, another set of doors. “Finance, logistics, communications, legal. Boring but necessary. You’ll meet everyone eventually.”

“Eventually,” I echo. The word sits in my chest like a stone.

“Pack store.” Selena pushes through the final set of doors and the room opens into something that looks like a small town square, shelves, displays, a counter running the length of the back wall. “Clothing, supplies, books, toys, everything a pack needs. Open seven days. Essentials are free.”

“Free,” Darian says.

“Pack members don’t pay for necessities,” Rylan says. “Food, clothing, shelter, education, medical, covered. The store runs on pack resources. But cellphones, laptops, and non necessities have to be bought. Everyone contributes in the pack, that’s how we run the pack as a family. If you are a capable adult, you contribute.”

“We’re not just a pack,” Rylan says, and the pride in his voice is quiet but absolute. “We’re a civilization. Self sustaining. Everything you need, we produce. Everything you need, we provide. Five thousand and forty seven wolves don’t survive on luck.”

“New residents,” Selena says, and her tone shifts, casual, almost conversational. “We’re selective. Very selective. Every applicant goes through a vetting process that would make the CIA blush.”

“Humans still apply, because to the outside world we are an exclusive member only community,” Rylan adds, and the corner of his mouth does the thing. “Can you believe it? Humans. No mate bond, no werewolf children, just send in an application and even try to bribe us.”

The words hit the air and my mouth opens before my brain catches up.

“Denied.”

It comes out of all four of us at once, Rylan, Selena, Darian, and me, in perfect, synchronized unison, and the laugh that follows is immediate and enormous and so completely, devastatingly real that I have to press my hand against my stomach to keep from doubling over.

Damian and Darlene stare at us. Two identical faces of absolute, uncomprehending confusion.

“What?” Darlene asks.

“Nothing, baby.” I’m still laughing. “Inside joke.”

“Werewolf joke,” Darian clarifies, wiping his eyes.

“Stupid werewolf joke,” Selena adds, and she’s got Darlene’s hand again, already moving toward the next corridor.

I catch Rylan’s eyes flick to Selena. Just for a second. The particular stillness of a man sending a mindlink.

“They finished it, looks like he was telling the truth,” he sends. I can feel the shape of the thought even though it’s not meant for me. My wolf stirs. She connected with Selena’s Lycan when we were in that tree too… like a current. “Instinctively. Nobody who wasn’t raised inside a pack does that.”

Something else I’ll have to figure out later.

Selena’s smile goes quiet. Private. She doesn’t look at him. She just keeps walking, her hand warm around Darlene’s small fingers.

The tour keeps moving. Workshop district, blacksmiths, carpenters, tailors, electricians, plumbers, every trade you can name and several you can’t. Communications tower, satellite dishes, radio equipment, the pack’s private network. Water treatment plant. Power station. Waste management.

“Five thousand and forty seven wolves generate a lot of waste,” Rylan says, and Darian makes a sound that’s half laugh, half something else.

We pass the construction yard, framers, masons, roofers, the crew building the new omega housing expansion. The greenhouse again, bigger than I’d realized, rows of citrus trees reaching toward glass ceilings. The textile mill, looms, sewing machines, the particular hum of fabric being made from fiber grown on pack land.

“Jobs,” Rylan says, and he turns to Darian. “What interests you? Warrior track’s obvious, but we’ve got everything. Construction, farming, teaching, medical, administration...”

“I’d like some time to think,” Darian says. His voice is measured. Careful. “But I’d love to begin training again. Whatever that looks like.”

Rylan’s face does something. Satisfaction. The particular satisfaction of an Alpha who’s just been told exactly what he wanted to hear.

“Training starts Monday,” he says. “I’ll introduce you to the war room team. They’ll assess, build a program.”

Selena’s hand finds my elbow. Gentle. Light.