I ended the call and went back to the bedroom. Sean was still sleeping, curled in on himself like something small and breakable.
He shifted as I slid back into bed, instinctively pressing close. I wrapped my arms around him, drawing him back against me.
My bear stirred. Whispered to me.
Now. While he sleeps. Track Orin. Tear him apart.
I dearly wanted to. The part of me that was still Ironwood-born, still raised on blood and strength and dominance, it snarled at the idea of letting someone like Orin roam free.
My claws ached to come out. My teeth itched to rend. I knew if I found him, I could make sure he never breathed Sean’s name again.
But this wasn’t Ironwood Falls. This wasn’t the wild.
If I let that part of me win, I’d be dragging Sean into a different kind of danger. The kind with cops and investigations and messy headlines.
We weren’t law here. We were citizens. Business owners. Members of a community. And I’d fought too hard to build this life. Sean had only just started to feel safe.
I couldn’t jeopardize that. I exhaled slowly and ran my fingers through Sean’s hair.
We’ll deal with him. One way or another. But not yet. If Orin crossed the line…if he made one wrong move…
Then we’d rip him to shreds. Screw the consequences.
I had a feeling the Sugarpaw Summer Festival was going to be one of my favorite days of the year.
It brought the whole town together. Shifters, humans, tourists. The warm breeze carried the scent of sugar, fried dough, and grilled meat through the air.
Kids ran around with colourful balloons, booths lined the streets selling everything from handmade crafts to preserves, and laughter filled the square.
The sun was bright overhead, and bunting in shades of gold and blue fluttered between the light poles like festive streamers.
But this year, the festival felt like a bad idea.
I stood near the competition stage, staring at the four stations that had been set up for the big baking showdown. Bear and Bun, Wolf and Whisk, Happy Flour, and Sweet Tooth.
Our station gleamed. Dorian had made sure our name banner was extra polished, and Cassian had triple-checked the layout. I should’ve been feeling proud. Confident. Hungry for that prize.
Instead, I was scanning the crowd, fingers twitching, my grizzly growling low and relentless just beneath my skin.
Rafael stood beside me, arms crossed, looking unimpressed until James, who had flour on his apron and a cocky grin on his lips, blew him a kiss from across the square.
Rafael flipped him off without looking. “If I push him into the custard vat, will I be disqualified?”
“Only if you get caught,” I muttered.
But my heart wasn’t in it. I kept looking. Kept scanning the crowd, hoping I was wrong. Dreading the moment I would catch a glimpse of Orin.
“Where’s Sean?” I asked, voice low, barely keeping the tension out of it.
“Leo’s with him,” Rafael replied, more serious now. “They went to get coffee for everyone. Relax.”
I didn’t. The square was a mess of scents and movement. Too many people were packed into one space.
Music from a live band filled the background, and the event’s emcee was already up on the small stage explaining the rules of the bake-off to the crowd.
I leaned toward Rafael. “What did you find out?”
He sighed, rubbing his jaw. “Nothing new. Orin, or Cane, or whatever name he’s using, keeps everything under wraps. I hit a wall. My guess? He paid someone to scrub his trail. Wouldn’t be hard if he’s got the right contacts.”
