The Vet and Vultures

I woke up to the smell of fresh espresso and warm cinnamon rolls.

For a split second, I forgot where I was. I reached out to adjust my silk sheets, only to feel rough carpet. My eyes snapped open. Right. I was on the floor of Maya’s living room, squeezed into a space between her sofa and a bookshelf.

Fenris stretched lazily in my mind, letting out a satisfied yawn. *Best sleep we’ve had in six months.*

*That’s because we were sleeping on a floor like an abandoned rug,* I grumbled back. But as I lifted my head, I saw Maya standing by the kitchen counter, tying her apron back on. Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a golden halo around her.

"Morning, Bear," she called out softly, glancing over with a bright smile. "How’s your paw feeling?"

I quickly tucked my left front paw inward, dropping my head to give her a low, sleepy whine.

"Oh, sweetie," she murmured, walking over to kneel beside me. She scratched behind my ears, sending another pleasant jolt of mate-energy straight down my spine. "I called the local vet clinic down the street. Dr. Miller said he can fit us in at nine to scan for a microchip and check that leg."

My blood ran cold. *A vet.*

*He’s going to poke us with things,* Fenris warned, his posture immediately rigid. *If he tries to take our temperature, I will eat his face.*

*We are not eating a human veterinarian,* I snapped back, though the thought of being handled like a domestic pet made my Alpha pride burn.

An hour later, I was being led on a makeshift leash—an old fabric belt Maya had scavenged from her closet—down the rain-washed sidewalk toward *Oak Street Veterinary Clinic*.

I kept my head down, forcing myself to walk with a slight limp. But my wolf senses were on high alert, constantly scanning the surrounding streets.

That was when the back of my neck prickled.

Two blocks away, parked near the curb, sat a black sedan with tinted windows. The engine was idling. Through the heavy glass, I caught the faint, foul stench of rogue wolves—enforcers belonging to the Vance Pack.

My nostrils flared. My tail went rigid. The Vance Pack was already moving in on Maya’s district. They didn't know she was my mate—if they did, there would already be war in the streets—but they were clearly keeping tabs on the local business owners they were trying to intimidate out of their leases.

"Come on, Bear," Maya said gently, tugging on the belt. "Almost there."

I let out a low, subtle growl directed at the sedan, flashing my sharp side teeth for a fraction of a second just as we turned into the clinic.

*We kill them tonight,* Fenris snarled, baring his teeth inside my mind.

*Tonight,* I agreed grimly. *After she goes to sleep.*

The vet clinic smelled sharply of rubbing alcohol, floor cleaner, and terrified cats.

"Oh, wow," Dr. Miller—a middle-aged man with graying hair and wire-rimmed glasses—said as Maya led me into the examination room. "That is... quite a dog, Maya. What is he, an Irish Wolfhound mix?"

"I'm not sure," Maya admitted, rubbing the back of her neck. "He showed up on the bakery porch last night in the middle of the storm."

"Well, let's get him on the scale first."

It took ten minutes of coaxing from Maya for me to step onto the metal platform.

Dr. Miller adjusted his glasses, looking at the digital readout. "One hundred and sixty-two pounds. And he's pure muscle under all that fluff. He's remarkably healthy for a stray."

*Because I eat prime steak, not kibble,* I thought, glaring at the doctor.

"Let's check for a microchip," Dr. Miller said, reaching for a white scanner wand.

As he stepped closer and raised the wand toward my neck, my instincts flared. A strange man reaching toward an Alpha's neck was a direct challenge for dominance. Fenris flared his lips, a deep, chest-vibrating growl threatening to spill out.

"Easy, Bear," Maya whispered instantly, stepping close and placing her soft hands on either side of my giant head. She buried her face slightly in my fur, breathing in. "It's okay. He's helping you."

Her touch hit my system like a powerful sedative. The lethal tension in my body dissolved instantly. I dropped my tail, letting out a soft sigh, and buried my snout against her hip.

Dr. Miller passed the scanner over my back. It beeped twice.

"Nothing," Dr. Miller said, checking the screen. "No chip. He's not registered anywhere in the municipal database either."

Maya looked down at me, her eyes shimmering with a mix of relief and worry. "So... nobody is looking for him?"

"Looks that way. Though honestly, a dog this size eats like a horse. If you plan to keep him, your food bill is going to double."

Maya winced slightly, her mind clearly drifting back to the financial pressure on *The Sugar Whisk*. "I'll figure it out. I can't just send him to a shelter."

My chest tightened. She was struggling to keep her dream alive, yet she was willing to take on the burden of feeding a massive mutt without a second thought.

"Let's just give him a quick physical," Dr. Miller said, reaching for a stethoscope. He pressed the cold metal disk against my ribcage.

I held my breath, holding my heart rate steady through sheer willpower so he wouldn't realize my resting pulse was half that of a standard canine.

"Heart sounds strong," Dr. Miller noted. He ran his hands along my back legs, checking my joints. "Paws look fine. Honestly, Maya, he's in peak physical condition. Just keep him fed and exercised."

"Thank you, Doctor."

As Maya paid at the front desk, I stared out the clinic's glass front door.

The black sedan was still idling across the street. A man in the driver's seat lowered his window slightly, lifting a camera with a heavy telephoto lens, aiming it directly at Maya as she walked out the door.

Every protective instinct I possessed flared into violent life.

I didn't bark. Barking was for ordinary dogs. Instead, I stepped out onto the sidewalk, placed myself firmly between Maya and the car, and locked my golden gray eyes directly onto the driver.

I let a tiny fraction of my Alpha aura bleed through the canine facade.

Across the street, the driver froze. The camera trembled in his hands. He could feel it—the suffocating weight of an apex predator warning him to back off. Panic flashed across his face, and he hastily rolled up the window, hit the gas, and sped off down the avenue.

"Bear? What are you looking at?" Maya asked, looking down at me in confusion.

I looked up at her, smoothing my ears back instantly, reverting to my harmless, dopey pet persona. I gave her hand a gentle lick.

"Silly boy," she smiled, scratching my chin. "Let me head back to the bakery. I've got a batch of cinnamon rolls to pull, and then... I need to figure out how to handle this real estate meeting afternoon."

I trotted beside her, my mind already racing.

Tonight, Bear would sleep at the foot of her bed.

But by noon, Fenris Blackwood, Alpha of the Blackthorn Pack and chief executive of Blackthorn Holdings, was going to pay a little visit to her bakery to handle her "real estate" problem personally.