Page 158 of The Hyena’s Guardian

Warmth spread quietly through the bond afterward, deeper now than it had ever felt beneath the mountain and finally free of danger and the need to survive.

A sudden engine sound echoed faintly from somewhere farther down the mountain road.

Matt blinked once before glancing toward the distant headlights climbing the gravel drive below the property. “That’s weird,” he muttered.

Theron turned slightly beside him. “You were expecting someone?”

“No.”

The vehicle came into view several moments later: a dark SUV coated in road dust and mud from the mountain roads. It rolled toward the house before stopping near the far edge of the driveway.

Mac appeared on the porch, his posture relaxing only slightly once he realized the unexpected arrival did not represent another emergency. Even then, Matt could still see the alertness settle into place beneath the Alpha’s calm expression as the SUV rolled to a stop near the edge of the driveway.

The driver’s side door opened first, and a Valker operative Matt vaguely recognized climbed out looking exhausted enough to collapse where he stood.

Then the rear passenger door opened, and the man who stepped out looked young enough that Matt guessed he was somewhere in his mid-twenties. Dark curls fell untidily across his forehead while an old Army jacket hung stiffly from broad shoulders held far too rigid beneath the porch lights. His skin carried a warm brown tone that looked washed out beneath exhaustion, and the sharp tension in his posture made him seem ready to bolt back into the darkness at the first wrong movement.

Matt recognized the posture. He had seen it on soldiers returning from deployment and, more recently, on survivors released from Council rehabilitation. They all carried the same guarded awareness, as though safety were only a temporary condition that could be withdrawn without warning. Connor’s rigid shoulders, uneven heartbeat, and constant tracking of every movement around him revealed someone caught between fight and flight while trying desperately not to show either one. Survival had become instinctive long before he ever stepped onto the property.

Beside him, Theron had gone very still, his attention fixed on the younger wolf with quiet understanding rather than suspicion.

The younger wolf’s attention shifted cautiously across the property, moving from the warmly lit house to Mac standing calmly on the porch before finally settling on Matt and Theron near the fence line.

The moment the younger wolf’s gaze landed on Theron, something sharp flashed briefly across his expression. Not fear of Theron himself, but the instinctive wariness of someone suddenly standing in front of a person who might understand him too well. Matt recognized that feeling.

Mac descended the porch steps before stopping beside the SUV.

The exhausted operative rubbed one hand across his face before gesturing toward the younger wolf beside the SUV. “The Council finally approved his transfer this morning,” he explained. “Since your Pack is registered to take in displaced wolves, they asked whether your offer still stood.”

Mac looked toward the young wolf, then back at the operative.

“Melvin and I told the Council months ago that if they had wolves with nowhere left to go, our door was open.”

The operative’s shoulders eased. “They remembered.”

The younger wolf looked like he wanted to disappear back into the mountain darkness behind him before anyone could look too closely.

Mac’s expression softened slightly as he studied him. “What’s your name?”

Silence stretched for several long seconds while his attention flicked cautiously between the house, the surrounding property, and the wolves standing in front of him like he still expected this entire situation to turn dangerous without warning.

Then finally: “Connor.”

His voice sounded rough and carefully controlled, like speaking too loudly might start another fight.

Beside Matt, Theron watched Connor with an attention sharpened by recognition as the younger wolf’s exhaustion, hypervigilance, and isolation became impossible to miss.

Mac studied Connor quietly for another moment before stepping aside and gesturing toward the house.

“Come inside before Melvin decides all this food was cooked for nothing.”

Connor hesitated near the bottom of the porch steps, tension still locked through his shoulders like he expected the invitation to be withdrawn at any second.

Then Melvin appeared in the doorway behind Mac holding a dish towel over one shoulder.

“If you stand out there too long,” he warned, “Marcus woke back up and is going to eat everything.”

A voice shouted from somewhere inside the house. “That accusation is completely fair and accurate.”