Chapter 15.2 Wolves and Witnesses

"Nuri, let’s go," Kalmin said as Orson scrawled his signature across the final document. Bruce, smug as ever, lounged across from him with a grin that screamed victory. He’d walked away with everything he wanted. Orson, on the other hand, had to cover Kalmin’s legal fees—for a claim that was never his to begin with.
Nuri waited until she was buckled in before speaking. “That was… something,” she muttered, offering her hand for the case files Kalmin had dropped into his lap.
“That’s just a glimpse of what I deal with. I’ve got hundreds more like it waiting in line.” He handed the dossier over, sparing her a glance as he turned toward his office. “How do you know Tyson? I saw how he looked at you. There’s history there.”
‘Still say you should’ve killed him. Or at least let me do it,’ Rian growled, the sound curling beneath the surface of Kalmin’s thoughts.
“Oh, you know—childhood bully,” Nuri said, brushing it off with a shrug that didn’t fool him. She hoped he’d let it go. Not because she didn’t trust him—but because she wasn’t sure if it was smart to stir him up again. Not after the way he and Rian had nearly combusted in the car earlier. That, and the ugly coil of resentment that always uncurled in her gut when she thought about the years she'd spent being punished for the simple, unforgivable crime of being born.
“No, I don’t know,” Kalmin said, his eyes locked on her face, searching for the truth behind her words. ‘Bully? Maybe I should’ve let Rian kill him.’ He didn’t say it aloud—he wasn’t in the mood for Rian’s smug satisfaction. “Are you going to elaborate?”
“I’m a hybrid,” she snapped. “I was born one, and I’ll die one. That alone has made me a target my entire life. For wolves like Tyson. For wolves like you. So no, Kalmin—I don’t see the point in elaborating.”
Her lip curled with a quiet fury that hit harder than any scream. Kalmin felt something inside him buckle. A part of him wanted to retort, to fling back the same tired prejudice—that maybe she should be ashamed. But another part—one far more inconvenient—folded in on itself at the pain in her voice. He wanted vengeance on her behalf. Brutal, bloody retribution for every scar etched into her soul.
Except he’d helped carve a few of them himself.
Maybe not when she was a child—but recently. As an adult. And that made it worse.
“You’re right,” he said finally, after a silence that felt like it lasted hours. “It was thoughtless of me to ask.”
He pulled into the parking lot and turned off the engine, then turned fully toward her. “Nuri... I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” she said quickly, though her heart hammered against her ribs. She didn’t know exactly what he was apologizing for—but the look in his eyes made it hard to doubt his sincerity.
“I do. And you know it. Wolves as a whole owe you—and everyone like you—an apology.”
Nuri blinked, stunned. “I… don’t know what to say to that.”
“You don’t have to say anything. I just want you to know I see you. I see what you’ve lived through. And I’m sorry for the part I played in it. I want to try to understand.”
He got out and rounded the car to open her door. She followed him inside, still processing the weight of what he'd said.
“Try to understand?” she echoed warily. “How?”
“Do you still want to try merging with me?” he asked, leading her down a short hallway to a locked office in the back. He sifted through his keys and opened the door.
“I haven’t thought much about it since our last conversation,” she admitted, stepping inside when he motioned for her to go first. Her shoulder brushed his chest in passing—barely a graze, but enough to stir the air between them. “But I still want to try.”
“You’ll need formal training first.” Kalmin’s voice had an edge to it—low, controlled. Intentional. “But when we do attempt it—I want you to show me everything. Every word. Every wound. Every cruelty done to you because of what you are.”
Her breath caught. “What good would that do? Other than making me relive it all?”
“Enlightenment,” Kalmin said, voice low and steady. He moved around the desk with that same quiet, lethal grace—a predator at rest, but never unarmed. When he sat, his gaze slid over her with deliberate slowness, unapologetically thorough. Heat bloomed across her skin, her breath catching as if he’d stripped her bare without ever lifting a finger. “You’ll need to get used to being studied, Nuri,” he murmured. “Or at least learn not to flinch when you are.”
She scowled, tension bunching in her jaw. “That’s another perk of being a hybrid. When someone like you looks at someone like me—we tend to get twitchy.”
“There you go,” Kalmin chuckled, a dark flicker of amusement passing through his eyes. “Just hang on to that hatred for people like me, and you’ll be fine.”
He pulled a laptop from his drawer and began typing. The clack of keys filled the space between them, rhythmic and deliberate, like a heartbeat echoing in the silence. Nuri watched him, hyperaware of the way his forearms flexed as he worked, of the faint scent of cedar and wolf musk that clung to his clothes.
“I’m speaking with Moira. Headmistress at the girls’ academy. About your enrollment.”
“Oh.” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. Hope flared in her chest like a match being struck. ‘You think she’s going to say no? Hybrids aren’t allowed. What if Kalmin doesn’t have the sway he thinks he does?’ she asked, trying to gauge his expression.
‘I hope he does. We didn’t even know there were different kinds of merges. Imagine everything we could learn,’ Tempest replied, her voice taut with excitement.