“Actually,” I hear myself say, “take your time with it. The owners decided to stay in town for a while. No rush.”
“You sure? She seemed pretty anxious to get back on the road when I talked to Ruby about it yesterday.”
“I’m sure. Give it until Friday, like you originally said. Maybe run a full diagnostic while you’re at it. Check the brakes, the transmission, the whole works. Make sure everything’s in good shape before she gets back behind the wheel.”
“All right. You’re the boss. “I’ll give you a call when it’s done.”
I end the call and stare at my phone. What the hell am I doing? Keeping her car longer than necessary, watching her cottage from across the street, lying to Nic about being ready for the lottery. This isn’t me. I’m the guy who follows protocols, who does his duty without question, who doesn’t let personal feelings interfere with pack business.
But something about Fern Ramos has gotten under my skin, and I don’t know how to dig it out.
I tell myself it’s because the pack needs a therapist. Patricia has been complaining about the lack of mental health resources for months now, especially since the League of Humanity attack. There have been too many pack members dealing with trauma, with grief, with anger, they can’t control.
Dylan lost his brother during the attack and has been on a warpath ever since. Skylar from the medical center still has nightmares about the night the humans breached our borders. Others lost friends, family members, and their sense of safety. A licensed therapist with experience in trauma could do a lot of good here.
That’s why I want her to stay. For the pack.
Not because of the way she looked at me in that break room, vulnerable and scared, but still fighting. Not because my wolf has been restless ever since I caught her scent, and certainly not because the thought of her out there alone, with that bastard hunting her, makes me want to tear something apart with my bare hands.
For the pack. That’s all.
The lamp in her window goes out. She’s probably heading to bed, exhausted from her first day of work. I should leave, go home, and get some sleep myself. Tomorrow, I need to dig into this Robbie situation and figure out who he is and what resources he has. Knowledge is power, and right now I have far too little of either.
But I stay where I am for another few minutes, watching the dark cottage, making sure no unfamiliar cars drive past. No strangers lurking in shadows. No signs that anyone followed her here.
Protecting her. Because that’s my job.
Nothing personal.
The walk home takes me past the pack house again. Through the upstairs window, I can see Nic still at his desk with Luna now sitting beside him. They’re talking, heads bent close together, and even from here I can see the way they lean into each other, like they can’t imagine being anywhere else.
The lottery brought them together. Nic was resistant at first; he told me the whole story over drinks one night. How he never wanted the responsibility of the Alpha position, much less a mate chosen by tradition. How Luna challenged everything he thought he knew about himself and his role in the pack, and how falling in love with her was the most terrifying and rewarding thing he’d ever done.
Maybe it could be like that for me.
Or maybe I’ll end up matched with someone who can barely stand me. Someone who sees the lottery as a burden instead of an opportunity. Someone who’ll spend the rest of our lives resenting the twist of fate that bound us together.
I shake off the thought and keep walking. Three days. In three days, the lottery will be held, and my name will be called alongside whoever fate has chosen for me. Worrying about it won’t change anything.
My cabin sits at the edge of the forest, far enough from the main pack areas to give me privacy but close enough to respond quickly if there’s trouble. I built most of it myself over two summers, with help from James and a few other pack members. The wood is local pine, the foundation solid stone. It’s not fancy, but it’s mine. The one place in Silvercreek that belongs entirely to me.
Inside, I pour myself a whiskey and sink into the chair by the window. The forest stretches out beyond the glass, dark and endless. Somewhere out there, the night patrol is making its rounds, checking the borders, and making sure no threats get through.
I should be out there with them. Instead, I’m sitting here thinking about a human woman with sad eyes and too many secrets.
My phone vibrates again. Ruby this time.
How’s our new therapist settling in?
Fine. She started work today.
I know. I brought her lunch.A pause, then another message:She seems lonely.
I don’t respond to that. What would I even say? Yes, she’s lonely. Yes, I’ve noticed. Yes, it bothers me more than it should.
Another message comes through:The lottery’s in three days. You nervous?
No.
