The book Jethro was reading snapped shut with a bang that echoed through the room as he turned his attention to the door. He didn't have to ask who it was as, even through the damp wood he could smell the scent of their newest addition to the pack. Erica. Jethro could still remember the day she was brought to them, almost dead. She was born a human and by rights she should've died as one and he was tempted to let her slip away rather than suffer on. Maybe that would've been a kindness. But she had clawed her way back to life and that had impressed him. She wasn't aware of it, but her will to live was one of the strongest he'd ever seen.

He placed the book on the small end table that was placed next to his chair and called out in a gruff voice that, as many knew, could accommodate roaring laughter and intimidating threats in equal measure. "Come in Erica. My door is never locked to family." He called out, leaning back in the old armchair and crossing one leg over the opposite knee.