The thunder arrived before sunset.

Eli heard it through the library windows and dropped the blue puzzle piece. It struck the floor with a harmless click. His hands flew to his neck anyway.

Silas, seated several feet away, didn't move toward him.

“Storm,” he said quietly. “Just weather.”

Another rumble rolled over the mountains. Eli knew the difference between thunder and an explosion. His body did not. The laboratory had used thunder recordings to conceal the sounds from its lower rooms. When the sky growled, doors had opened. When doors opened, something hurt.

He crawled beneath the library table before he could stop himself.

Silas lowered his gaze. “You can stay there.”

Eli pressed his forehead against his knees. His heart beat so hard that his teeth seemed to ache.

From the hall came Ronan's voice. “The north windows need securing.”

Eli flinched.

“Quietly,” Silas called back.

Ronan appeared, took one look beneath the table, and shut his mouth. He crouched near the doorway rather than coming closer.

“Sorry, little moon,” he whispered. “Didn't know you were here.”

The first time Eli had heard thunder, he had been small enough to fit beneath the laboratory cot. A technician had found him there and laughed. The memory returned in pieces now: a white ceiling, the smell of bleach, a gloved hand pulling him into the light. He knew this was not the same room. He repeated the fact silently, but his muscles still prepared for the old pain.

Near the fireplace, Ronan shifted his massive head toward the sound of rain. Eli watched the movement, expecting bared teeth. Instead, the brown wolf yawned so widely that his tongue curled. Cassian's pale wolf gave him a look of obvious disdain. Ronan nudged a stray cushion toward him. Cassian pushed it back. Their ridiculous, silent argument made Eli blink in surprise.

The lantern flame flickered against the walls. Lucien's wolf remained close enough to be seen but far enough away that Eli did not feel trapped. Every time the thunder rolled, Eli checked the opening in the circle. It stayed open. The wolves had the strength to block every exit, yet they had chosen not to.

He remembered the cards on the carpet. He could ask for water, a blanket, or an empty room. Nobody had punished him for picking one. A strange thought came to him: perhaps the wolves were waiting for him, not waiting to catch him.

After he settled near Silas, Eli reached toward the silver-gray wolf and stopped halfway. Lucien lifted his muzzle slightly, offering no pressure. Eli touched the fur between his ears. It was softer than the wool blanket. He withdrew his hand, then tried again. Each time, the wolf waited patiently.

When the storm finally passed, the silence sounded different from the silence of the laboratory. There were crackling logs, breathing wolves, and rain dripping from the eaves. No footsteps approached. No keys rattled. Eli lay awake long enough to notice that he wasn't waiting for the next terrible thing.

The lights flickered. Eli counted the seconds until the next rumble. He knew how to count. Numbers had once been the only thing he could control.

Lucien arrived carrying the picture cards Eli used when words were impossible. He placed them on the carpet and slid them gently toward the table.

One showed a glass of water. Another showed a blanket. The third showed a closed door. The fourth showed a hand held out, palm upward.

Eli stared at the cards. The laboratory had never asked what he wanted during a storm.

He touched the blanket.

“Of course,” Lucien said.

Lucien placed the blanket beside the table and withdrew. Eli dragged it beneath the wooden edge. Its wool smelled faintly of cedar and the clean soap used throughout the house.

The next thunderclap was sharper.

Eli covered his ears. The blanket slipped from his shoulders. He could not breathe deeply enough.

Adrian entered and stopped when he saw the scene. He removed his military coat without a word. His command insignia caught the firelight before he folded it out of sight.

“Has anyone touched him?” Adrian asked.

“No,” Lucien replied. “He chose the blanket.”

“Good.”

Cassian came last, carrying a lantern in case the power failed. He set it on a shelf, far from Eli's reach, then glanced at the dark windows.

“We could move him to the interior rooms.”

“Not unless he wants that,” Silas said.

Cassian looked at Eli. “Right. His choice.”

Another flash lit the ceiling. Eli squeezed his eyes shut.

Then he heard the soft sound of clothing settling on the carpet.

When he looked again, Silas was gone. A great black wolf sat where the quiet general had been, his paws tucked neatly beneath his chest.

Eli's breathing hitched. The wolf did not approach.

A second wolf appeared near the fireplace, enormous and deep brown, with Ronan's familiar amber eyes. He lowered himself to the rug as carefully as a dog trying not to frighten a bird.

Cassian's pale wolf lay beside the window. Lucien's silver-gray wolf settled near the sofa. Finally, Adrian's dark charcoal wolf took his place beside the open doorway.

Five wolves. No uniforms. No commands.

Eli remembered the first night Silas had waited outside his room. He remembered touching one velvet ear and finding that nothing terrible followed.

The wolves formed a loose circle around the fire, leaving an opening wide enough for Eli to pass through.

He did not move.

The storm shook the glass. The wolves stayed still.

A branch scraped against the window. Cassian lifted his head, then rested it again. Ronan released a slow breath that made the fur along his shoulders rise and fall.

Eli crawled out from under the table. He kept one hand on the wool blanket.

No wolf turned to claim him.

He crossed one floorboard. Then another.

The warmth near the fireplace touched his bare feet. Eli stopped beside Silas and reached toward the black wolf's ear.

Silas remained motionless until Eli's fingers settled against the fur.

A tiny tremor traveled through Eli's hand. He sat down, then leaned against the wolf's shoulder.

Silas shifted just enough to support his weight.

Ronan looked away, as though witnessing something private. Lucien lowered his head onto his paws. Adrian kept his eyes on the doorway.

Eli studied the circle. There was room in the middle for him and his blanket. No one pointed to it. No one ordered him inside.

He dragged the blanket into the open space.

For a moment he remained upright, ready to flee. Then he curled on his side. Ronan moved a few inches closer, stopping when Eli's breathing changed.

Eli reached for the brown wolf's paw.

Ronan froze.

A sound rose in Eli's chest, faint and uneven. He had heard wolves make it when they were comfortable, but he had never expected the sound to come from himself.

It was a purr.

The silver-gray wolf lifted his head. Lucien knew the sound meant more than a good night. Eli's body had found a moment when it no longer expected pain.

Nobody celebrated aloud.

The wolves simply stayed.

Hours passed. The storm weakened, then moved beyond the mountains. Eli woke once to find a black muzzle resting near his blanket. He touched it and closed his eyes again.

In the morning, the five generals woke stiff from sleeping on the floor.

Ronan's shoulder hurt. Cassian had a crick in his neck. Adrian had missed three messages from the imperial council.

Eli was still asleep in the middle of them.

“Worth it,” Ronan mouthed.

Adrian nodded.

When Eli opened his eyes, he looked at the wolves, the dying fire, and the open space beyond the circle. The path out was still there.

He could leave whenever he wished.

For the first time, he chose to stay a little longer.