Two days to figure out who I am when I’m not the woman who came here to kill him.
I meet his eyes.
And have no idea what comes next.
Chapter 11
Jericho
The way she looks at me after that phone call tells me something has changed, though I don’t know what. Not fear. Not hatred. Not even the exhaustion pulling at her like gravity. Something else entirely—like a person standing at the edge of a cliff trying to decide whether to jump.
She hangs up the phone. Turns. Meets my eyes.
“We should move,” she says, voice flat and professional.
I nod.
She leads the way down the main street, and I follow at a careful distance, watching her more than our surroundings. The stiffness in her shoulders. The way she favors her left side. Blood runs down her fingertips.
She’s hurt worse than she’s admitting.
The motel is small, single-story, with peeling paint and a neon vacancy sign that flickers erratically. She stops at the office door and hesitates.
“I’ll wait here,” I say.
She glances back, nods once, and disappears inside.
Through the window, I watch her talk to the owner, who must be accustomed to bedraggled guests coming in covered in blood. Lucky us. She gestures, explaining something. Lost in the storm, probably. Need a room. Funds coming. The owner doesn’t look convinced but eventually hands over a key.
She emerges. “Room seven.”
We walk past four other doors before reaching ours. She unlocks it and steps inside. I follow.
The room is small but clean, aggressively normal with its beige walls and worn carpet. A single queen bed dominates the space, covered in a floral comforter that’s seen better years. Tiny bathroom visible through an open door. Window facing the parking lot.
One bed.
She notices. I notice her noticing. Neither of us addresses it.
She drops her pack on the floor and shrugs out of the rifle strap. The movement makes her wince, sharp and involuntary.
“You need to deal with that,” I say.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re losing blood.”
She looks down at the fabric soaked dark across her shoulder, more blood than before. “It’s not that bad.”
“Let me see it.”
“No. I’m a wolf. It’ll heal.”
I wait, counting to five in my head.
Goddamn stubborn woman.
“You can’t reach it properly. The wound is on your shoulder blade. You’ll need help.”
