After that, it was almost daybreak. I called and checked in with Lacey, Hunter, and Lee.
Lacey assured me they’d arranged the site convincingly enough to fool the mundanes. Guilt twisted in my gut, but at least the hiker would get a burial and his family would getclosure. And no one else would be put in harm’s way searching for him. I had made the right call, the responsible one. Even if it felt like I’d needed to sacrifice a portion of my soul to do it.
Though I was exhausted, I went to the pack-owned bar I was now co-owner of—The Crescent Moon—and busied myself with the familiar routine of getting everything ready for that day’s influx of people. Since the hiker had gone missing, we’d been opening early to give out free coffee to the folks looking for him. It was an excellent way to keep abreast of what they’d uncovered and what areas they’d already searched.
The next several hours passed in a blur. There were dozens of volunteers from all over, even as far as Seattle and Tacoma. Way more innocent people than I would’ve guessed, traipsing through a forest with a literal monster on the loose. Over the course of the morning, I learned that the hiker’s name was Scott Vogler. He’d been from Seattle. His photo had been splashed all over the evening news the night before, which explained why there were so many people looking for him.
“After everything that happened, he came out here to clear his head,” a brown-haired woman in her thirties was saying to a group of people as they approached me. I was standing behind the long wooden bar top, pouring coffee for another volunteer, but listening to everything.
I monitored her from my peripheral vision, trying not to be obvious about it.
Though her eyes were glassy and red-rimmed, she seemed determined to put on a brave face. “My brother knows better than to go too far off the beaten path and to stay put if he gets lost. We’re going to find him.”
My stomach knotted with guilt as I handed the cup of coffee across the bar.
The woman—Scott Vogler’s sister, apparently—ordered hot drinks for her and the other volunteers. Given the easy, familiarway she spoke to them, I guessed they were her friends, who had come out to help with the search. I couldn’t look any of them in the eye.
But still. The faster they found Scott, the less danger they’d all be in. No matter how I felt about it, I’d made the correct decision.
Lee joined me an hour into the breakfast rush, freshly showered.
He locked eyes with me and gave me a sharp nod. Which meant the body was taken care of. There would be no questions. Then he went to the back, without a word, and began manning the grill.
It was early during the lunch rush that I got word they’d found Scott’s remains. I tried to block out the volunteers with shell-shocked expressions or tears in their eyes at the news. They were likely the ones who had known him, or maybe even members of his family.
I wasn’t successful. Somehow, seeing it made it more real. Conviction settled deep in the pit of my stomach. We’d find the thing that did this. And we’d stop it.
After that, the volunteers started thinning out and going home.
And by three in the afternoon, they were all gone. The bar settled into that quiet two-hour stretch between the end of lunch and the start of dinner.
I was busy wiping down the bar—still gleaming even after years of use—when the front door swung open behind me and a familiar voice stopped me dead.
“Reed.”
My stomach lurched and I looked up to find Harris standing in the doorway. His expression was cold, his eyes filled with accusation.
“Harris?” I said, dismay and desire mingling with stunned disbelief at the sight of him. His scent—reminding me of home and belonging—rolled over me. And for an instant, it washed everything else away. The wolf in my chest whimpered plaintively, desperate for us to move closer to him, to take him in our arms and feel him pressed against our bodies.
But he was in Crescent Springs and there was a monster on the loose. He was in terrible danger. “What are you doing here?” I demanded. “Why aren’t you in Los Angeles?”
“Because I know you’ve been lying to me for months,” Harris said, glaring me down. “I know everything, Reed.” Then he paused and said the words that caused the floor to drop out from beneath me. “I know you’re my mate.”
My jaw dropping in a way that would have probably looked comical to anyone watching.
Harris’s eyes narrowed. “Huh. I figured you weren’t going to deny it. It’s true, isn’t it?”
I was unable to lie to him—unable even to wrench my gaze from his. “Yeah.”
CHAPTER FOUR || HARRIS
“‘Yeah?’ Just like that? Yeah, you knew you were my—” I broke off, so furious with him I didn’t trust myself to speak.
“Mate,” he supplied, his voice going hoarse around the word.
The black-haired wolf was still clutching the white cloth bar rag in his hand, his eyes wide and his expression wooden and unreadable.
But—even though I didn’t know how—Ifelthim experience a storm of emotions at the sight of me. Disbelief, shock, bewilderment, and maybe even a small amount of guilt. And most of all, a hot surge of desire.
