Page 164 of House of Crimson Cloak and Silver Teeth

I can smell bread baking six streets away and track the paths of a hundred cats hunting rats. It’s easy to track their movements from hours ago. Every individual on the street has a unique scent. Cutting through it all like a shooting star is Garrett’s scent.

I stop in my tracks. It’s so vivid and clear it’s like he’s standing next to me. The scent is diffused through the city air but unmistakable. My nose points me toward its source.

Follow it. He is home, my instinct whispers.

The wolf brain is simple. It knows Garrett means safety, comfort, belonging.

He is pack. Find him. Be with him.

The urge is overwhelming, but I know better.

There’s nothing Garrett can do to help me.

I’m a cursed wolf. How the hell am I supposed to speak to him? Even if I could make him understand what would he do? He can’t break curses. There’s no way he can challenge the guild and undo what Quinnlan did.

Besides I’m still angry that he drugged me…

The memory surfaces with perfect clarity.

His hands on my skin, his mouth on mine. I trusted him completely while he fed me poison. Black Orchid, coating his skin, mixing with every kiss. He discarded me and sentenced me to this.

Garrett made his choice. He’s the Queen’s Knight now, bound to her service.

But my legs are already moving, following the scent trail across rooftops and through alleys. I don’t consciously decide to go. My body just moves, drawn by instinct and the desperate hope that maybe, somehow, he’ll recognize me. Perhaps he’ll look into my eyes and see past the fur and fangs to what’s trapped inside. It’s stupid and impossible.

But I go anyway.

My paws carry me to the Clayborne estate. The familiar walls of Elvarstyne keep rise ahead, obsidian stone glowing in moonlight. I’ve been here for weeks as bodyguard. I know every entrance and their guard rotation. I leap over the old section of the walls where there are fewer patrols. The jump carries me easily over the twelve-foot barrier. I land in soft grass on the other side, barely making a sound.

No one saw me breach their perimeter. Garrett’s scent is everywhere in the garden. It’s still warm and fresh. He was here recently, maybe an hour ago.

If I’d arrived earlier, I might have seen him. The thought lodges somewhere painful beneath my ribs.

I follow his scent through rosebushes and hedge mazes to a small door I remember.

The servant’s entrance. I used it myself when I wanted to leave discreetly. The door is well-maintained and locked from the inside. But there’s a window right above it. It’s barely six inches of gap but I’ve gotten very good at windows.

One leap brings me to the opening. I squeeze past the frame and land silently on the floor inside. My paws make no sound on the stone floor as I navigate turns I remember from my time here. The scent grows stronger with each step. Finally, I reach the door to his chambers. It’s slightly ajar.

The room is exactly as I remember but more detailed now. Through wolf senses, I notice what I couldn’t before. The curtains are drawn tight against the daylight. Papers lie scattered across the desk instead of neatly organized, and a glass sits half-empty among them. His chair is pushed too close to the fireplace, like he’s been sitting there for warmth. The whole space feels smaller, darker, and steeped in melancholy.

Garrett is sad.

Good, I think vindictively.

Let him suffer and feel a fraction of what he condemned me to. He deserves this—

Footsteps echo in the hallway. Multiple sets coming this direction. I freeze, ears tracking their approach.

Panic spikes. I need to hide. My eyes sweep the room and land on the wardrobe in the corner. I slip behind it, wedging myself into the tight space. My black fur helps me blend into the shadows. I hold perfectly still, barely breathing.

The door opens.

Garrett enters first and seeing him breaks something inside me. He looks tired. The exhaustion is visible even from across the room. His shoulders are slightly slumped with dark circles under his eyes. He’s aged in the days since I last saw him, worn down by something more than just lack of sleep.

I want to go to him and tell him I miss him.

Fuck, that. No.