But when he woke, his eyes had locked on hers with something that wasn’t gratitude.
It had scared the hell out of her, watching his eyes shift from green to arctic blue.
She hadn’t asked questions.
That was the first mistake.
The second had been bringing her concerns to her supervisor back in Philly—quietly, professionally, with notes she’d triple-checked and observations she couldn’t ignore.He’d laughed.
Actually laughed.
Told her she was tired.Told her she’d been in the field too long.Told her if she didn’t want the work anymore, she was free to leave.
When she insisted, when she refused to sign off on the report the way he wanted, he fired her on the spot.
No appeal.No reference.
Just a warning look and a reminder about confidentiality agreements that suddenly felt a lot more like threats.
The third mistake had been thinking she could just walk away.
She hadn’t done anything wrong.She was sure of that.She hadn’t signed anything.Hadn’t agreed to anything.She’d treated who was put in front of her, stabilized who she could, and walked away when her contract ended.
Apparently, that had been more than enough to create an obsession.
He found her two weeks later.
Violently.
Decisively.
He took her for forty-eight hours that erased any remaining doubt she had about what he was.Not human, and not shifter.At least, not entirely.He broke into her apartment in Philly like the locks were suggestions, dragged her out before she could scream, and kept her moving—basements, back rooms, places that smelled like oil and blood and rot.He hurt her when she fought.Hurt her when she didn’t.Never enough to kill her.Always enough to remind her that he could.
She survived because a neighbor heard something they couldn’t ignore and called the cops.Because sirens came faster than he expected.Because he let her go rather than be taken himself.
She filed a restraining order with shaking hands and bruises she couldn’t quite hide.But she knew it meant nothing.
When he came close to taking her a second time—when she caught his reflection again, too solid to be coincidence—she didn’t wait.
She ran.
And she never went back.
She left Philly the same night.
New York wasn’t freedom.It was noisy with crowds and plenty of places to disappear.
But she knew he would find her eventually.
Riley drained the glass and set it down carefully, fingers trembling despite her efforts.Her gaze slid back to the door, to the thin strip of shadow beneath it.
She could feel it again.
That sensation of eyes on her skin.
It wasn’t constant.That was what made it worse.It came and went, unpredictable, like pressure changes before a storm.Sometimes she could go hours without it.Sometimes days.
Tonight, it clung to her.
