Her eyes fill with tears she refuses to let fall. The sight makes my wolf snarl, protective and possessive in equal measure. “It’s not… I can handle it.”
“Look, I’m head of security for Silvercreek. My job is to keep people safe. I can’t do that if you won’t tell me what’s going on.”
“It’s my ex.” The words burst out of her like she’s been holding them back too long. “Robbie. We broke up six months ago, but he won’t accept it. He keeps showing up at my apartment, my office. Calling, texting. I got a restraining order, but it didn’t stop him. Two weeks ago, he…”
She trails off and curls into herself. The gesture is so defensive, so small, that I want to wrap myself around her until nothing can touch her.
“What did he do two weeks ago?”
“He broke into my apartment. I came home from work, and he was just… there. Sitting on my couch like he belonged. He said if I ever tried to leave him again, he’d make sure I regretted it. That I belonged to him. That I always would.”
Rage floods through me, hot and vicious. My wolf snarls and demands I find this Robbie and teach him what happens to men who threaten women. Who claim ownership over someone who doesn’t want them. I force myself to breathe, to stay calm. Getting angry won’t help her.
“So you ran,” I surmise.
She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand and nods. “I packed what I could and left that night. I thought if I got far enough away, he’d give up. But if he sabotaged my car…”
“He’s been following you. Probably tracking your credit cards or your phone.”
“I paid for everything in cash. And I turned off location services—”
“Doesn’t matter if he has access to your cell provider.” I run a hand through my hair and already start thinking through security measures. “He could be tracking your phone’s pings off cell towers. Or he put a tracker on your car before you left.”
Fern looks stricken. “So he knows I’m here.”
“Not necessarily. He knows your general direction, maybe. But Silvercreek is off the beaten path. We’re not easy to find if you’re not looking for us.” I stand and pace the small room as my mind cycles through possibilities, threats, and defensive strategies. “The cut was fresh. Done in the last day or two. He’s been following you, got access to your car while you were stopped somewhere. Rest stop, maybe, while you were sleeping.”
Fern’s face goes even paler. “Oh God. You think he was that close?”
“Looks like it. But that also means he doesn’t know exactly where you are now. He damaged your car, hoping you’dbreak down and end up stranded. Instead, you made it to Silvercreek.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it.” I stop pacing and move back to her chair. “You’re here now, which means you’re safe. He won’t get near you.”
She looks up at me, those pale blue eyes searching my face. “You don’t even know me. Why would you do that?”
“Because this isn’t your fault. He’s the one who broke the law, who threatened you. You did what you had to do to stay safe.”
“I’m not part of your town. I’m just passing through.”
“Patricia just offered you a job and a place to live,” I point out. “Ruby’s ready to adopt you as her personal project. And your car won’t be ready until Friday at the earliest.”
“Friday?” She slumps in her chair.
“Parts are backordered. Could be Monday.” Her shoulders round forward like the weight of the world had just doubled. “Fern, listen to me. Whoever this Robbie is, he won’t find you here. We’re a tight-knit community. Strangers get noticed. And if he does show up…”
“What? You’ll what, scare him off? He’s not afraid of anything. That’s the problem.”
“He’s never met me.” The growl in my voice surprises even me. I clear my throat and try to rein in the wolf. “Point is, you’re safer here than out on the road alone. Take the job. Stay in the cottage. Give yourself time to figure out your next move.”
“Why do you care?” The question isn’t accusatory, just tired. Genuinely curious. “You don’t know me.”
Good question. Why do I care? I should be telling Nic, our Alpha, about this and running a background check to make sure she’s not bringing trouble to the pack. Instead, I’m practically begging her to stay. My wolf is circling her scent like a shark and memorizing every note of vanilla and jasmine, taking note of the way her breath catches when I get close.
“Because you need help,” I answer. “And I don’t like bullies.”
She studies me for a long moment. Therapist eyes, I realize. She’s used to reading people, finding their secrets. What does she see when she looks at me?
Finally, she nods. “Okay. I’ll stay. For now.”
