By late morning, Shannon told Tristan they would meet a few members of his pack.
"Not all of them," Shannon said as they walked through a quieter part of the city. "Just a few. Somewhere neutral, with no pressure to talk more than you want to."
"Who exactly?" Tristan asked.
"You'll see," Shannon replied.
The meeting place was a tavern hidden between two warehouses near the river. The tavern wasn't fancy, but the interior was clean and surprisingly free of fish smells. Across the room, others conducted their business in hushed voices, heads bent close, hands folded over tankards.
A young man in his early twenties waited for them near a corner table. He was tall and powerfully built, the kind who looked like he could carry several sacks of rice in one go without batting an eye. For a big man, his handshake was firm but not painful; you can learn a lot from a handshake.
"Kim," he said. "You must be Tristan."
"That's me," Tristan replied, accepting the handshake.
Kim gestured toward the table, and they sat. "Shannon's been holding back," he said, eyes dancing with amusement. "Not only do you play the violin; you're also easy on the eyes."
Whether it was a joke or a compliment, Tristan let it pass. "And you're…?"
"Beta," Kim said. "Second in command when Shannon's not around."
The first few minutes passed easily. Kim asked about the cottage, the garden, whether Marla's cooking was really as good as Shannon claimed. Tristan found himself answering without the tightness in his chest that usually came with meeting new people. He even admitted he was teaching children to play the violin. That was new for him—he had spoken to few people during his incarceration, and not many after his release.
The door opened again. A tall man with dark hair stepped inside, sharp gaze cutting to Tristan before flicking to Shannon. He didn't bother with introductions.
"Didn't realize we were entertaining humans now," the man said, dry and edged with sarcasm.
"Bran," Shannon said in a flat voice.
Bran crossed the room and leaned against the wall instead of taking a seat. "Thought you had enough to handle without adding outsiders into the mix."
Kim kept his tone even. "Bran, this is Tristan. Tristan, Bran is one of our hunters."
Tristan gave a short, steady nod. "Nice to meet you."
"Is it?" Bran asked. "Humans usually say that before they take something that isn't theirs."
"Really?" Tristan said, steady. "That's a sweeping generalization. What does your kind take that isn't theirs?"
Bran shrugged but didn't look away. "Just telling you what some of us are thinking."
Shannon's gaze sharpened. "Then think quietly."
Before the exchange could harden into an argument, the door opened again and a woman stepped through—young, composed, eyes clear and quick. She assessed the room in a heartbeat.
"Mira," Shannon greeted.
She nodded to Shannon, flicked a brief glance at Tristan, and took a seat across from the Alpha. "Patrol reports are in," she said crisply. "Two boundary markers near the east woods have been tampered with. Could be kids, or it could be a warning."
"We'll check it," Shannon said.
Mira set a folded report on the table and stepped back. She didn't speak to Tristan directly, but she didn't bristle either. Neutral, he thought. Waiting to decide.
Kim broke the silence. "We were talking about the cottage. How's the garden?"
"Doing well," Tristan said, grateful for the shift. "Marla says the tomatoes will be ready in a week or two. And now that the chicken cage is reinforced, we have more fresh eggs to sell."
"Marla's always been good with plants," Kim said, amused. "And the poultry too. Better than half of us, anyway."
Bran made a sound that might have been a laugh, stripped of humor. "You'll have to forgive Kim. He forgets some of us don't care about gardens and chickens when there's real work to do."
Kim didn't rise to the bait. "And some of us know balance matters."
"That's enough," Shannon said. "We're here to talk, not start a fight."
The rest of the meeting remained civil, if not exactly comfortable. Kim kept the conversation moving, Mira remained focused on her reports, and Bran mostly watched. Tristan answered questions when asked but stayed alert, reading the undercurrents. He had the sense of walking a narrow path: one wrong phrase and he would slip.
When it was time to leave, Kim rose and offered his hand again. "Good to meet you. Don't let Bran scare you off. He has trust issues, especially with people. Not just you."
"I'll keep that in mind," Tristan said.
Mira gave him a small nod as she passed. Bran didn't say goodbye.
Outside, Tristan let out a slow breath. "Well… that was something."
"Could have been worse," Shannon said.
"Bran doesn't like me."
"Bran doesn't like most humans," Shannon replied. "When the time is right, he'll probably warm up and tell you himself."
"And Mira?"
"Neutral," Shannon said. "She'll form an opinion if she needs to. Until then, you're just someone she's seen once."
"And Kim?"
"Kim's easy to get along with. He's also good at reading people. He'll talk to you more when he's made his decision."
"What decision?" Tristan asked.
"Whether you're a person of substance or an empty vase."
They walked in silence for a few steps. The river air smelled cleaner out here than Tristan remembered—wood, water, faint bread from a nearby bakehouse.
"So… is this how your pack usually is with strangers?" he asked.
"Depends on the stranger," Shannon said. "And on the history between us and their kind."
Tristan weighed Bran's open distrust, Mira's polite distance, and Kim's easy manner. Such contrasts could prove challenging—especially to a human.
"Do they attack unprovoked?" Tristan asked. "For instance, in response to blood or the smell of meat?"
"It's the same for humans," Shannon said. "We either finish the job or live to fight another day. We train to control the urge to kill, if that's what you're asking."
Tristan nodded. "Will I be meeting more of them—especially the younger wolves?"
"Yes," Shannon said. "But not all at once. You'll have time to decide how many of them you want to know."
"And how much of me they want to know," Tristan added.
Shannon didn't need to answer. His mouth curved, faintly, in agreement.
"And remind me again why we're doing this?" Tristan asked, half-teasing.
"To let you know me better than I know you," Shannon replied, utterly sincere.
They walked on, the city softening around them as the noise of the market faded. Tristan thought of the tavern—the neutral ground, the charged glances, the quiet nod. He had stepped into their world today, just a little, and the ground had not given way beneath him. Kim had been open. Mira had been measured. Bran had been a wall.
It was enough. It was a start.