Ryder’s POV

I was in the war room when the guard told me there was a human at the gate asking for me by name. Not a messenger, not a vendor—a hospital nurse. That got my attention fast.

She stood in the foyer, rain on her jacket, hands shaking like she’d run the whole way here. Mid-thirties, brown hair scraped into a bun, eyes too old for her face.

“Alpha Ryder?” she asked.

“Yes.” My voice came out rough. “Talk.”

“I… I’m Nora,” she said, trying to steady her breath. ...