She smiles.
Not the small, professional smile she gives colleagues. Not the tight, controlled expression she wears like armor. This is genuine. Bright. A smile that lights up her entire face and makes her eyes sparkle.
I haven’t seen her smile like that since before she left six years ago.
She answers, pressing the phone to her ear. I can’t hear what she’s saying from here, can’t make out the words through the soundproof glass. But I see her body language. She leans back in her chair, relaxed in a way I’ve never seen her at work. She laughs, the sound silent from this distance but visible in the way her shoulders shake, her hand coming up to cover her mouth.
She starts gathering her things, phone tucked between her shoulder and ear. Still talking, still smiling.
I crack my door open, just enough.
Her voice drifts across the empty floor, warm and excited: “I can’t wait. I’ll be there soon.”
She hangs up and practically runs to the elevator, her earlier exhaustion completely forgotten.
The doors close behind her.
And I’m standing here like an idiot, jealousy burning through my veins like acid.
Who the fuck was that?
I grab my jacket and keys.
I know this is wrong. I should let her have her privacy. I know following her is crossing every line we’ve drawn.
But my feet are already moving.
By the time I reach my car, Violet’s rental is pulling out of the parking garage. I keep my distance as I follow her, staying back far enough that she won’t notice. My wolf paces beneath my skin, agitated and demanding. Her scent trail is faint through the closed windows, but it’s a thread I could follow in my sleep.
She drives for fifteen minutes, heading toward the human district. The buildings are older here, less polished. Small businesses and restaurants line the streets instead of corporate towers.
She pulls up to a small cafe with outdoor seating. Parks and gets out, her phone in her hand.
I find a spot across the street and crack my window. Her scent grows stronger, mixing with coffee and exhaust and humanity.
A man steps out of the cafe.
Human. I can smell it from here, that distinct lack of wolf that marks him as prey. Mid-thirties, dressed casually in jeans and a button-down. Brown hair, friendly face. The kind of non-threatening appearance that probably puts people at ease.
My wolf snarls.
Violet’s face lights up when she sees him. She rushes forward, and he opens his arms, catching her in a hug that makes me see red.
She hugs him back. Wraps her arms around him like he’s someone she knows well. Someone she trusts. Someone who makes her smile like that.
The steering wheel creaks under my grip, leather compressing beneath white knuckles.
They separate after what feels like an eternity, and he says something that makes her laugh. That genuine, bright laugh I haven’t heard in years.
Then, they get into her car together, and she drives off.
My heart is pounding so hard, I can hear it in my ears. Blood rushes past, a roar that drowns out the street noise. I have to go after her. Drag her out of that vehicle and away from that man who has no right to be near her.
She’s ours. OURS. How dare he touch her. How dare he make her smile.
I tail them at a distance, tracking her scent more than her car now. It’s there, under that horrible perfume, growing fainter as she puts blocks between us but never disappearing entirely. My wolf claws at my chest, demanding I go faster, get closer, eliminate the threat.
She pulls into an apartment complex. Nothing fancy, but clean. Well-maintained. The kind of place where young professionals live when they’re starting out.
