The den is quiet, too quiet for a pack this size, but that's how it always is in the hours before dawn. The stone walls of the compound are cool against the summer heat, and the only sound is the soft shutter of the big fan in the corner of our room. I'm curled in the center of a massive bed, human again, one hand resting on the firm swell of my stomach.

Six. Six heartbeats, steady and strong, each one a tiny drum keeping time with the pulse of the pack.

The door to the balcony is open, and I can feel Isaiah out there, his presence a warm anchor at the edge of my awareness. He's been out there since three in the morning, talking to someone on the phone in a voice too low for anyone else to hear. Business. The kind of business that makes grown men tremble and mothers hide their children. But not me. Never me.

His thumb traces a slow circle over the bump, and I can feel the sleep still clinging to him despite the hours he's been awake. He's been running himself ragged for weeks now, all of this with the border territories and the new human faction moving into the city... but he never lets it show. Not to me.