“Bullshit.”
“Where are you?” he asks, apparently giving up on getting me to talk about my love life.
“On my way to Marcus’s. I need to figure out what I’m going to do next.”
Beau’s silence has my bear paying attention.
“Dad won’t be chasing you down any time soon.” He sighs. “Bodhi had to tackle him last night. He was about to kill Ethan. He’s in the hospital and… it looks like he might not walk again.”
That’s not what I was expecting. I take my foot off the accelerator and let the car roll to a stop in stunned silence.
“So what do I do?”
Beau sighs again, exhaustion clear in his voice.
“Unless you have some magical way of convincing Bodhi to shift back to human form and talk to us… You’re better off staying put until Mitch can try to wrangle the clan into some kind of order, and we see what the fallout’s going to be.”
CHAPTER 10
BILLY
The apartment above Taaffe’s is smaller than my room in Black River, but it’s mine. Or will be, once I sign the paperwork which Sean’s sliding across the bar.
“Rent’s included with the job,” he says, eyeing me with the careful assessment of someone who knows exactly who my father is. “Ethan vouched for you, but I need to know… is this going to bring trouble to my door?”
“No, sir.” I meet his gaze steadily. “My trouble’s in Black River. I plan to keep it there.”
He studies me a moment longer, tapping the pen against the bar. The afternoon light catches the scars on his knuckles… old fights, old stories.
“Bar opens at eleven, closes at two. You’ll work five nights a week, help with inventory, handle the rougher customers when needed.” He leans back, arms crossed. “Questions?”
“When do I start?”
“Tomorrow night work?”
“Yes, sir.”
He slides a key across the bar with deliberate slowness. “Apartment’s yours then. Welcome to Grey Ridge.”
I pocket the key and head for the narrow stairs. Each step creaks under my weight, the sound echoing in the empty stairwell. The apartment is sparse. There’s a bed, a small table, a tiny kitchen. But there’s a window overlooking Main Street, and it doesn’t smell like fear and violence.
But it doesn’t smell like home, either. Not now.
I drop my bag on the bed and try not to think about how Carla is doing less than two miles away. Try not to remember how she couldn’t meet my eyes when we said goodbye. How she walked into that packhouse without looking back.
It’s been a week. Seven days since I left her at the packhouse. Seven nights of restless sleep, my bear pacing constantly, wanting to check on our mate.
The physical effects aren’t as bad as I expected. I can eat, sleep, and function. But the need to protect her, to be near her, is a constant ache in my chest. Like someone carved out a piece of me and left it with her.
My phone rings as I’m unpacking. Marcus.
“You settled in?”
“Just got here.” I move to the window, watching wolves pass on the street below. “How are things in Black River?”
Marcus is one of the oldest. Along with Mitch, he’ll have the best chance of keeping our clan calm and orderly while they figure out what to do.
There’s a heavy pause. Static crackles on the line before he speaks.
