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Nafisi tensed and leaned into the butt of her weapon the way she’d been taught. Her fingers tightened along the handgrip, save for the one prepared to unleash superheated plasma fire if whoever he was even breathed wrong. And it was definitely a man—his size made that abundantly clear. She took a slow breath, waiting for him to comply, but he seemed remarkably unfazed for someone with a plas-rifle pointed at his spine.
He laced his fingers on top of his head, revealing a patch on his biceps, and her breath hooked a painful claw in her throat. A wolf standing on a promontory, surrounded by a crescent moon. TJF Rangers. The same folks for whom she and Gener raised the wolves. Who had left them out here at the darkened ass-crack of humanity’s far-flung colonies.
He turned the rest of the way around, and she caught her first glimpse of his face in the shuttle’s floodlights. Older than she’d expected, probably not much off from her own mid-fifties, and with the common decency to not try to hide his age with longevity treatments. The salt and pepper at his temples had given up and gone more to gray in his brows, a color that seemed out of place above the honey-colored eyes of a wolf-bonded ranger. A hard mouth, like a man who was unaccustomed to smiling. Or just plain didn't know how.
Her gaze dropped just enough to take in the rank pips at his collar. The golden starburst was easy to recognize, and though they’d never met, she only knew of one man who could wear both that and a ranger’s patch. She lowered the weapon. "Commander Penzak. You’re early."
"It’s Rafe. And does that mean I can put my hands down?"
His voice was low and flat, with so little emotion she couldn't decide if he was joking or asking a legitimate question. She decided it was better to be safe. "Feel free."
Too bad lowering his arms highlighted his broad shoulders and made her eyes want to linger on the play of his suit across his chest. If she’d realized that would be the case, she’d have had him keep the damn things up.
"The wolves won't be ready for months yet.” She wasn’t sure what else to say and was surprised at how banal it sounded. How little conflict she let show in her voice. She'd spent the last five years convincing herself that what had happened with Gener hadn’t been the rangers’ fault. Seeing their commanding officer on her front doorstep, it was hard to remember that.
If it hadn't been for their insistence on secrecy, she and Gener wouldn't have been sentenced to this backwater, communications dead zone of a planetoid. She would've been able to radio for emergency services when he’d collapsed. Someone could’ve gotten there in time. But with Gener incapacitated and her unable to fly the shuttle back to Prime by herself, there had been no chance he would make it.
Thirty-six hours later and she was wrapping his body for burial out beyond the dome. The rangers might not have been able to save him, but they sure as hell didn't help him either.
Penzak watched her, and she wondered how much he’d read from her face. "It's not about the wolves,” he said. “Rather, it is about the wolves, but not in the way you think. We've intercepted communications which seem to indicate Triptych knows where you are."
"The crime syndicate?" As though there was some abundance of Triptychs in the three systems, that there might be another one that was a less-brutal criminal organization with which she could be confused. "So that means you're sending everyone, right? When do the rest of the rangers get here?"
At least he had the gall to attempt to look sheepish. "We didn't have time to determine whether or not the intel was actionable enough for a major operation. Time was of the essence, so..."
So they'd come to collect the wolves and her, and everything else be damned. Once again, their utter failure to help was going to be a disaster for her. "You came by yourself, with the assumption I’d be a good little worker bee and do as I was asked. Did you even stop to think I might not be interested in going anywhere? Gener and I made a home here, for all it was worth to you lot. And you expect I can leave all those memories behind because you think you might have some intelligence?"
"Actually, I wasn't thinking we'd move you until the threat had been confirmed. I rushed out here to make certain the wolves were okay." He had shifted to a parade rest stance, and she wondered if this was as relaxed as he could get.
Of course the rangers hadn’t come for her. It was only ever about the wolves. She was just the caretaker, the one who busted her ass day in day out to make sure these beautiful animals were brought up healthy and prepared for service alongside their bonded ranger. Why would she matter?
She forced herself not to let any of those thoughts slip out of her mouth. "Fine. Stow your gear and lock your ship. You and your wolf can have a look around, make sure everything is what you were expecting." And she could go into the house and avoid him before she said or did something unpleasant. She may not love the rangers, but she absolutely loved these wolves. She refused to risk doing anything that might take them away from her.
"It's just me."
For a moment, the ache in his voice—the hollow emptiness—threatened to make her actually feel sympathy for him. Anger was one thing, but loss? She understood that all too well. And the brief flicker of hopelessness that had crossed his face before whatever systems of control he used locked it all down again? She knew that too.
But damn her if she'd give him the satisfaction. "Fine. I’ll be inside when you’re done." She turned and walked back toward the house.
#
RAFE SHOULDERED HIS pack and started after the woman. Guilt tugged at the back of his neck like a fishhook lodged beneath the skin. He should have remembered her name, or that Gener Sultana had died. Should have known more about what was happening here. He could recall logistics letting him know that the original trainer had passed in some kind of accident, but it had been not long after Actaeon’s death. He’d had enough demons to deal with on his own. He couldn’t have shouldered Nafisi’s as well, even if he’d thought to.
Nafisi. That was it. To confirm he’d remembered correctly, he called out her name.
She stopped, tension arcing through her so strongly it looked like she’d been electrocuted. All around him he could feel and hear the wolves she protected. Dedicated work that she was doing for the Rangers. The TJF should've been doing a better job keeping track of what was going on out here. They—he owed the ranchers that much.
"What?" She didn't turn around, just growled the word over her shoulder.
“How many wolves do you have on the ranch?" In the darkness, he could see the outline of what looked like a long kennel house. While he could sense the wolves were there, Actaeon's death had left him without the ability to know more.
"I have ten adult wolves. That's my breeding stock. There’s a litter of four I'm raising at the moment. Double-J. And one of my other dams is pregnant with double-K, but she’s not due until after this litter is grown. I can only handle one litter at a time." She started walking again. "I can take you to see them later if you're interested."
He couldn't decide if he'd like that or not. Being on the Hunting Cry was hard enough, surrounded by other rangers’ wolves. Knowing every time he sent a fireteam out, there was a chance someone else—man or wolf—would return just as broken and hollowed out as he was.
She tapped on an omni as she walked, and the lights came up on a cozy ranch house nestled among the larger rocks.
In the light from the windows, he could see the thin horizontal lines on the walls where the industrial fab units had layered the composite as it built the house from the ground up.
She stood on the porch and held open the door as she watched him. “Well, come in if you’re comin’."
Inside, an effort had been made to chase away the monochrome outside with warmth and color. The walls were painted a light blue that bordered on turquoise, and the floor had been patterned with colorful, easy-to-clean tiles. Stepping through the door brought him face-to-face with a wall covered with pictures. A simple plaque in the center of the wall had been engraved with the TJF Rangers’ logo and the simple words Fallen. Unforgotten.
Even after the wolves had gone on to their bonded partners, she and her husband had kept track of them.
It took him less than a heartbeat to find Actaeon’s picture just left from center. In the photo, he was young—it had probably been taken right before he and the wolf had bonded. Polarized light prevented the wolf’s famous coat from lensing and rendering him invisible. Instead, he was midnight black. Muzzle open and tongue lolling in a canine smile. Ears upright and their tufted tips alert.
Seeing it almost punched the wind out of him. Of all the things he'd expected to find on Hephaestus Secundus, a picture of Actaeon hadn't been on the list. He traced the edge of the familiar figure with the tip of his finger and felt the reprimand in his head. This should be more. More grief, more sorrow. Something. Anything. But losing his wolfbond had left all of his emotions feeling like they'd been wrapped up and mothballed. Like a toy from childhood that felt smaller and dingier than remembered.
Before he could get any more maudlin, he followed Nafisi into the living room. She had stripped out of her survival gear, the plas-rifle leaning against the wall as she hung the heavy coat and pants in the closet. Underneath she wore simple, utilitarian clothes, and for an unvarnished second, he let his gaze skim over her.
She was about his age, maybe slightly younger, but he knew more than most what time and tragedy could do in tandem. She had a mature build to match—heavy in the hip and bust, just the way he liked. Or would have liked if he were capable of such a thing. Her shoulder-length hair had probably once been blue-black in its intensity, a perfect match for the raw umber of her complexion, but the years had leached some of the color away and left visible streaks of white.
If she noticed him staring, she gave no indication. "You can stand there if you want, but I'm not pretending like you’re a welcome guest. I've got shit to do, and I'm not going to change my schedule to accommodate you." She pointed first toward the back of the room and then toward a hallway. "Kitchen’s there, and the bathroom’s down there. I'd say make yourself at home, but please don't."
She crossed to a metal pen that took up one corner of the living room near the fireplace. Pain hooked between Rafe’s ribs as she lifted a wolf pup out, the room’s polarized light turning the wolf into a fluffy bundle of pitch-black paws with a tail. Nafisi was cooing at the wolf in her hands, checking it over carefully as she turned it. Content that it had passed her muster, she set the pup back on the floor and adjusted the control for the fireplace. Flames sparked up in the hearth, lending a bright crackle to the room.
Rafe set his pack down and watched the wolf explore the living room. He'd barely taken two steps toward a chair when the tiny canine bounded toward him and let loose what he was certain the pup thought was a fearsome bark. The high-pitched sound was more like a toy than anything intimidating, and the pup getting tangled up in its own feet and tumbling over a moment later defused any remaining threat it might have carried. A different person might have laughed, might at least have smiled. And he wished again he could have been that person.
Nafisi wandered back from the kitchen with an eyedropper full of dark liquid. She scooped the puppy up from the tile and carefully fed him the contents. Once she was content the wolf had finished everything, she stopped and looked at Rafe. "They have to get additional vitamins early on. Especially if they're not getting mother's milk." She seemed like she was about to say more, when an amber light flashed and data started scrolling across her vid unit. She scanned the readout, and whatever she had been about to say was replaced with muttered profanities.
"What is it? Are they here?" He’d let himself get distracted. He should have been checking the perimeter, but a pretty woman and a baby wolf had clearly made him sloppy. If Triptych had already arrived, he was in trouble.
Nafisi fixed him with a steely glare. "If Triptych wants to show up, they’re going to have to wait. That's the perimeter sensors. Big dust storm coming. They can’t get out in this any more than you could. Looks like you're stuck inside until it blows over."