“So nothing. I’m just making an observation.” He picks up his pen and twirls it between his fingers. “Keep an eye on her. Make sure this ex doesn’t cause problems for the pack. If he shows up, I want to know immediately.”
“Understood.”
“And Connor?” Nic sets down the pen and fixes me with a look. “Be careful. Humans are fragile. In more ways than one.”
I know what he’s really saying. Don’t get attached. Don’t let your wolf get ideas. Don’t forget what happened the last time we trusted humans too easily. The League of Humanity attack is still fresh in everyone’s minds.
“I’ll be careful,” I assure him.
I stand to leave, but his voice stops me at the door.
“One more thing. The lottery is in three days. You’re still participating?”
My stomach knots. “Of course. It’s my duty.”
“I’m not asking about duty. I’m asking if you’re ready.”
Ready. What does that even mean? Ready to have my mate chosen by fate and a slip of paper? Ready to bond with someone I might barely know, to tie my life to theirs for better or worse? The lottery has worked for others in the pack—Nic and Luna, Ruby and James—but that doesn’t make it any less terrifying.
“I’m ready,” I lie.
Nic watches me for a long moment, his gaze uncomfortably perceptive. “The lottery isn’t a punishment, Connor. It’s an opportunity. My grandmother always said the magic knows what we need, even when we don’t.”
“Your grandmother also said eating raw garlic would ward off evil spirits.”
He laughs, and the sound breaks through some of the heaviness in the room. “Fair point. But she was right about Luna. And about Ruby and James. Just keep an open mind. You might be surprised by what fate has in store.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“That’s all I ask.” He waves me off. “Go. Keep an eye on our new guest, and find out what you can about this ex of hers.”
I leave his office with my head full of competing thoughts. The lottery. Fern. The nameless ex who’s been hunting her across state lines. There are too many variables, too many unknowns. I don’t like unknowns. They’re impossible to plan for, impossible to defend against.
The evening is cool as I make my way through town. Silvercreek is settling into its nighttime rhythm—families heading home from the diner, the tavern starting to fill with the after-work crowd. Old Mrs. Patterson waves from her porch, and I wave back. Tom from the hardware store nods as he locksup for the night. I exchange brief greetings without stopping to chat. Everyone seems relaxed, content with the routine of small-town life. None of them knows about the potential threat that followed our new therapist into town.
My feet carry me toward the eastern edge of town without any conscious decision. The staff cottage sits at the end of a quiet street, a small house with a covered porch and a garden that Patricia maintains when there’s no tenant. Yellow flowers line the walkway, and a wooden bench sits beneath the front window. A lamp glows from inside.
She’s home. Good.
I don’t approach. Just find a spot across the street where I can watch without being obvious about it. Pack duty, I tell myself. Keeping an eye on a potential situation. Making sure no one followed her here. Nothing personal.
Through the window, I can see Fern puttering around the small living room. She’s changed out of the clothes she wore to the medical center and is now wearing what looks like a loose sweater and leggings. Her hair is down now, and it splits past her shoulders, catching the lamplight. Even from this distance, I can see how tired she looks. The way she moves slowly, like every step takes more energy than she has.
My wolf stirs with interest, and I shove him down hard.
She pauses by the window, and for a moment, I think she’s spotted me. But she’s just looking out at the darkening sky. Something about the way she stands there—arms wrapped around herself, shoulders hunched—makes my chest ache. She looks lonely. Scared. Like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, for everything to fall apart.
I recognize that feeling. Lived with it for years after my parents died.
Then she moves away and disappears deeper into the cottage just as my phone goes off in my pocket.
“Connor? It’s Joe.”
“What’s up?”
“Good news about that Honda. Found a supplier with the part in stock. Turns out they had one in the warehouse that wasn’t listed in the system. I can have it ready by tomorrow afternoon.”
Tomorrow. That’s fast. Too fast. If her car is ready, she might leave. Pack up her two suitcases, get behind the wheel, and take off down the highway. Keep running until Robbie catches up with her somewhere that doesn’t have a pack to protect her. Somewhere she’s completely alone.
