He grabbed his radio as the truck’s taillights disappeared around the bend.
“Forrest, you copy?”
“Yeah, boss. What’s up?”
“Need you to increase patrols around Mill Road and the Henderson cabin. Just ran off a suspicious vehicle—male driver in a car registered to someone else, clearly scoping the area.”
Forrest’s voice sharpened with interest. “You think it’s connected to Birch’s pack?”
Rune considered that possibility, but his gut said no. The man had felt human—no supernatural energy, no pack scent. Just wrong in an entirely different way.
“Negative. This felt personal, not territorial. But I want extra eyes on that area regardless.”
“Copy that. Want me to run additional background on the plate?”
“Do it. And Forrest?” Rune’s voice carried the steel of an Alpha’s command. “Keep this quiet for now.”
“Understood.”
Rune ended the call and stared down the empty road where the truck had vanished. Every instinct told him to go to Electra’s cabin, to tell her about the threat, to explain everything—the mate bond, the pack dynamics, the danger she’d unknowingly walked into.
Right. Just knock on her door and say, ‘Hey, we met yesterday, but surprise—you’re my fated mate and there’s some creep stalking you. Also, I turn into a wolf. Hope that’s not a problem.’
The absurdity of it would have been funny if the situation weren’t so serious. Electra was sharp enough to see through any excuse he gave for showing up again so soon. She’d already called him out this morning for his thin safety speech.
The memory of her teasing tone sent heat spiraling through him even now, when he should be focused on threat assessment. She challenged him in ways no one had dared in years, and his wolf loved it even as it frustrated his need for control.
But control was exactly what he needed right now. Bursting into her life with supernatural revelations would only drive her away, and he couldn’t protect her if she ran.
With a growl of frustration, Rune turned the cruiser around and headed back toward town. Work would have to be his anchor tonight—incident reports, patrol schedules, anything to keep his hands busy while his mind raced with scenarios and contingencies.
But when he finally settled back at his desk, surrounded by paperwork and the familiar routine of law enforcement, onetruth burned clear in his mind. Electra Calloway was no longer just a complication or a distraction.
She was his.
And he’d be damned if he’d let anyone threaten what was his.
SEVEN
ELECTRA
The dying sunlight slanted through Electra’s cabin windows, painting everything in warm amber as she saved her document and leaned back in her chair. Her fingers ached from hours of typing, but it was the good kind of ache—the kind that came from words flowing like water after months of drought.
She’d filled twelve pages today. Twelve pages of raw, unfiltered creativity that felt nothing like the mechanical prose she’d been forcing for months before her burnout. This writing pulsed with life, with authenticity she couldn’t quite explain. Her heroine was taking shape—strong, independent, but vulnerable in ways Electra had never explored before. And her hero... well, he bore more than a passing resemblance to a certain steel-eyed sheriff who’d been occupying far too much of her mental real estate.
“Reward time,” she murmured to herself, stretching her arms above her head until her spine popped. Her stomach growled in agreement, reminding her that she’d survived on nothing but coffee and the donuts Rune had brought this morning.
Rune.
The man’s name sent a flutter through her chest that had nothing to do with hunger and everything to do with the way he’d looked at her on her doorstep. Like she mattered in a way that went beyond professional courtesy.
She threw on some jeans and a sweater and grabbed her keys from the kitchen counter, pausing to catch her reflection in the dark window. Her hair had escaped its messy bun hours ago, falling in waves around her shoulders. A flush colored her cheeks—whether from the day’s writing high or the thought of potentially seeing Rune again, she couldn’t say.
Maybe both.
The truth was, she secretly hoped she’d run into him in town. The man had appeared twice in two days, and part of her wondered if he’d make it a hat trick. The thought sent a thrill of anticipation through her that she tried to rationalize away.
You came here to write, not to get distracted by the local eye candy.
