My father always said that fear is the glue that holds a pack together. That without him there is no respect, no order. I believed him... until I saw you that day.

Remember? The air was thick with anger and adrenaline, and everyone tensed up, ready for a fight. And you just stood there and watched. Not with fright. Not with a challenge. With... clarity. It was as if he didn't see an alpha on the edge, but just me. You sowed doubt in me then. And now that I can smell you next to me and I can't hear the fear in it... I understand. He was wrong.

The real glue is not in fear of losing the leader. He's in that calmness that comes when someone is around who isn't afraid to see you. To see everything. And still it remains.