Chapter 11 - Thalia
The days slip past in a strange, shifting blur, as if time is bending around Rafael and me, cocooning us together within the shadowed walls of the safehouse and beyond.
When I first arrived here, I counted the days with dread, wondering how long I’d be able to pull this off. I knew the Rosecreek team were dangerous, discerning people. I was prepared to run at any time.
Now, I count the seconds for different reasons—like how long I can still bear to pretend that I’m just another stranger, a transient here on some imagined journey with a handful of supposed skills.
It would be easier, far easier, if I could just find a way back to my grit, my signature, hardscrabble toughness. It’s kept me alive; it’s gotten me countless jobs. I’m known in my circles as impossible to rattle. But Rafael is an unsettling force at some inherent, deeply-rooted level—and now, more than ever, I feel the strength of that force.
He’s been warming to me with a rare and genuine patience, not even questioning me as we worked, side by side, for days. He even laughs with me now, though I can see the way he’s still watching me. And each time I feel his gaze, it digs into me like an itch I can’t scratch.
I’m reminded of it one morning as we run through escape drills in the half-lit forest just outside the safehouse. Rafael is in front, leading as always, but he doesn’t look back at me with suspicion this time—he looks back to make sure I’m keeping up, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.
For one fragile second, I almost let something slip. I nearly mention how I handled something similar back out east —but I catch myself. My throat tightens as I swallow the words down, spinning another lie to cover the mistake.
Rafael’s eyes narrow ever so slightly, and I feel a pang of something like guilt.
It’s strange, this guilt, this gnawing doubt over every choice I make. I expected him to be so unrelenting in his suspicion, but not his kindness, never his kindness. It’s almost cruel, the way he meets me with warmth now when I least expect it. I tell myself that it’s a game, that he knows exactly what he’s doing, but… sometimes, I don’t believe it. Half the time, I don’t believe it.
I’m turning his recent shift in behavior over in my mind the following morning when we hear the distant howl of shifters, prowling somewhere at the outskirts of the safehouse grounds.
I hear them before Rafael does, but he notices me stop, and I can see the sharp alertness in his eyes as he glances at me.
“Trouble?” he asks, already moving.
“Sounds like it,” I mutter. “They’re close.”
We’re out the door within moments, following the sound of the howls and heavy steps in the underbrush. We both have knives drawn, guns holstered, and ready at our hips. The air is thick with tension and the frigid cold, and I don’t have to turn around to feel Rafael’s presence close behind me.
The forest is still cloaked in a dim, predawn gray, trees looming like watchful sentinels over us as we move. I’ve been in plenty of forests, but Rosecreek’s woods are somehow darker than all those I’ve known, as if the shadows here are thicker, more impenetrable.
“Two of them,” Rafael whispers, close enough that his breath stirs the hair at the back of my head. “Southbound. If we don't stop them, they’ll hit the boundary within five minutes.”
They didn’t come for us. But we’ll be the ones to stop them from reaching the town.
Without another word, we break into a run, silent but deadly. I can feel my blood pounding, each step a heartbeat, each heartbeat a countdown. Branches snap under our boots as we navigate the uneven ground, and every part of me sharpens, senses heightening as we close in on our targets.
I spot the shifters first. Only two wolves. They’re just ahead, prowling low to the ground, their forms hulking and canine but distinctly unnatural in the way only we shifters are, dewy hides glistening silver under the pale morning light.
I glance at Rafael and see his jaw set in concentration.
“They’ll split up,” I breathe. “They’ll catch our scent; they’re downwind.”
Like clockwork, as if on cue, the pair splits. Rafael’s eyes flash, and he nods even though I haven’t told him what the plan is. He is already moving off to the right. Of course—he already knows the plan I’m thinking of.
I follow the figure on the left, careful to keep low, ducking behind a fallen log as I move. I can smell the shifter ahead now, as the wind stills around us—a scent like stale ash and rotting leaves, thick enough to choke on. I don’t know the scent. They’re a pack I’m not familiar with.
When Rafael and I are about ten feet apart, we both pause, waiting, knives raised, half-crouching in the foliage. In my peripheral vision, I see his head twitch toward me. Watching me even now.
The shifter I’m tailing is circling, sniffing the air, searching. Trying to pinpoint my location. He knows I’m close.
I wait until he’s distracted, his focus shifting to a flock of rising birds high in the trees overhead so I can creep closer. I adjust my grip on the blade in my hand, steadying myself, counting the breaths between each movement.
Then, as if by a single, unspoken command, Rafael and I spring into action at once.
Rafael shifts in one fluid movement and lunges at his target, teeth bared in a feral snarl as he takes the wolf by surprise, claws raking across its flank. I move in on my mark, ducking low and slashing my blade across the shifter’s exposed belly. It howls, twisting to snap at me, but I’m faster, sliding out of reach and kicking its back leg out from under it.
It’s pure, animalistic violence, the kind that surges up from some primal part of me. The huge wolf snaps at me again, claws swiping through the air as I dodge, feeling the adrenaline hum through my veins. I catch a glimpse of Rafael in the corner of my vision, locked in a brutal struggle with his own target, his movements precise and deadly, every strike calculated.
But then my opponent charges with speed I didn’t anticipate, a low, guttural growl ripping from its throat as it launches itself at me, teeth bared.
I barely have time to react, throwing myself sideways as it crashes into the ground where I was standing a moment before. I roll, coming up in a crouch, breathing hard as I grip my blade tighter.
The creature lunges again, and I twist, slashing across its throat. Blood splatters across the ground, thick and dark, and the wolf staggers, its eyes wild and furious. It makes one last, desperate lunge, but I meet it head-on, shoving my blade deep into its chest.
The shifter goes still, his body collapsing with a final, shuddering breath.
I rise, wiping the blood from my blade as I turn to see Rafael finishing off his own opponent. His chest heaves, his gaze fierce and unwavering as he stands over the other fallen shifter.
There’s a glint in his eyes, something fierce and untamed, and for a moment, I feel a strange pull in my gut, a low, swooping gasp of a feeling.
He looks at me, and I can see the question in his eyes, though he doesn’t speak.
I nod, though my heart is still racing, the adrenaline making my hands tremble.
“Fine,” I say, though my voice sounds rough, even to my own ears.
Rafael crunches through the snow to my side. When he reaches me, he watches me for a second too long, his gaze lingering before he finally seems to shake himself and steps forward, reaching into his bag to pull out a first aid kit.
"Hold still a second,” he says, his tone softened.
He motions toward my arm, and I realize then that there’s a thin line of blood trickling down to my wrist, staining the leather of my glove. I hadn’t even noticed the cut, the rush of adrenaline disguising the pain until now.
“Nothing serious,” I murmur, half-heartedly attempting to wipe the blood off on my coat. But Rafael doesn’t let me finish the motion, his hand catching my wrist, steadying me.
He pulls me down to sit on a log, then kneels in the snow, his hands deft as he reaches for an antiseptic wipe. I try to ignore the flutter low in my stomach as he leans in close. The biting cold of the forest is suddenly less noticeable with him this near.
“Hold still,” he murmurs again, this time almost to himself as he dabs at the cut, his hands gentle and sure.
He’s close enough that I can see the curve of his brow, the intent focus in his eyes as he works. A few snowflakes cling to his dark hair, I find myself studying him like he’s a puzzle I’m desperate to solve.
“You’ve got a steady hand,” I say, my voice softer than I intend, but I can’t seem to help it.
“Years of practice,” he replies, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Can’t let anyone bleed out on my watch, now, can I?”
His smile wavers as he meets my gaze. For a moment, neither of us says anything.
I’m too aware of the space between us, of the warmth of his hands through my jacket sleeve and his heart's steady, rhythmic beat, the warm mist of his breath mixing with mine in the cold air.
Rafael looks away first. I should have anticipated as much.
“So,” he says, breaking the silence as he tapes a bandage over the wound, his fingers lingering just a moment too long on my skin. “You want to tell me how you didn’t notice a cut like this?”
I huff out a laugh. “Maybe I was a little busy fighting off a wolf twice my size.”
A low chuckle escapes him, softening his usual sharp edges. “I don’t know about you, but I wasn’t worried. Didn’t think you’d go down without a fight.”
I force a smile, but something about the way he says it stirs an ache in my chest. In the clear, cold light of the snow around us, it feels like he’s seeing something in me I’m not sure I want him to see.
“Well, good as new,” he murmurs, straightening and pulling his hands back. His fingers hover above my wrist a moment longer. “Not that you’d admit it if it hurt.”
“Probably not,” I agree, though my voice comes out quieter than I mean it to. I look down, avoiding his gaze. I don’t want to do this right now. Not when I know what I’m about to have to do.
He seems about to say something, his mouth opening slightly, but then he shakes his head, taking a step back.
“Let me call it in—make sure the others know we’ve cleared this up before the next shift heads out,” he says, his voice rough with uncertainty again, the moment gone as quickly as it arrived.
As he steps back, I take a shaky breath, pressing a hand against my still-racing heart. The snow is falling heavier now, the quiet enveloping us, and the forest around us feels so empty, like it’s just the two of us here in this strange, frozen world. Rosecreek’s barely half a mile away, but it could be oceans from us. But as Rafael turns away to make his call, my hand drifts toward my pocket. My phone is cold against my palm, a familiar feeling, a sinking into that which I cannot escape.
I know I shouldn’t do this. I know I should just let it be, just let Rafael make his report and walk away. But the mission, the Smoke, Maia—these things all keep me rooted, tied, tethered no matter how I wish it were different. I’m stuck in this. I’ve always known that.
I can’t escape the life they chose for me.
That clear, warm voice drifts back to me. I glance over at Rafael. He’s a few steps away, his back to me as he speaks into his headset, his tone all business now, his attention focused elsewhere. Taking a steadying breath, I open a new message to the Smoke, my fingers typing quickly, the words spilling out as if by instinct.
Rosecreek under frequent attack by outside groups. Pack defenses vulnerable; high-risk opportunity for intervention. Will update.
I hit send before I can second-guess myself, slipping the phone back into my pocket just as Rafael turns back around, a frown creasing his brow.
“Ready to head back?” he asks, his tone back to that familiar, steady calm.
“Lead the way,” I reply, forcing a smile as I fall in step beside him, fighting the guilt gnawing at my stomach.
We make our way back through the snow-dusted forest, the silence between us more comfortable than it should be. Rafael glances over at me occasionally, his expression softening, his arm brushing mine now and then, a faint but constant presence.
“So,” he says, breaking the quiet as we cross a narrow stream, the water half-frozen beneath the layer of ice. “Looks like you’re making a habit of saving my life.”
“Please,” I scoff, shoving my hands in my pockets. “If I’m keeping score, I’d say we’re even. You certainly took care of both of us today.”
He grins, his eyes bright as he studies me, and I feel a rush of warmth under his gaze, despite the biting cold. “I’d say you owe me one or two. Since I’ve been so nice.”
“Oh, really?” I raise an eyebrow, pretending not to notice the way he’s looking at me. “Guess I’ll have to keep that in mind next time you throw yourself into a wolf fight.”
He laughs, his voice low and rumbling, and the sound of it reverberates through me, spreading heat through the chill in my bones.
“Guess you will,” he says, and there’s something in his tone I cannot bear.
I keep my eyes forward, focusing on the trees ahead as we walk. I can feel his gaze on me, studying me as if I’m something he’s still trying to figure out. It would be so easy to lean into that warmth, the heat of him, his plaintive, halfway-trusting desire for me to be who I say I am—to forget about everything else, if only for a moment.
But the weight of the text I just sent feels like a stone in my pocket, and I can’t shake the sense that I’ve crossed a line, one of a million other lines, one I can’t step back from.
We reach the edge of the safehouse’s surrounding clearing just as the sun appears through the thick white clouds overhead, casting a soft glow over the ice-crusted ground.
Rafael stops beside me, his hand resting on my shoulder, and I glance up, meeting his gaze.
“Thanks,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.
“For what?” I ask, feigning innocence even as my pulse quickens.
“For having my back,” he replies, his eyes searching mine. “I haven’t always worked well with partners.” Then, in a strange, vulnerable tone, as if by afterthought: “It’s not a promise. I’m just thanking you.”
My chest tightens, a strange ache spreading through me. I hold his gaze. It’s one of the hardest things I’ve had to do yet on this job. His words shouldn’t mean anything, shouldn’t reach me the way they do, yet I can feel them settling somewhere deep inside me.
“Anytime, Raf,” I reply, my voice soft.
Rafael’s hand lingers on my shoulder for a second longer before he pulls away, nodding toward the safehouse. “Come on. Let’s get inside before we freeze out here.”
As we make our way back, his arm brushes mine again, just barely, and I can’t help but lean in ever so slightly, savoring the closeness for as long as it lasts. Because I know, deep down, that whatever this is—whatever strange, fragile thing has grown between us in the cold, an evergreen kind of attachment—it can’t last. Not with the secrets I’m keeping. Not with the lies and scars that tie me to the Smoke like chains I can’t escape.
I pretend for a moment that I really am the person Rafael wishes I was. I like that person, whoever she is. Bitterly, I hope someday he finds her, that woman he can love, a woman who is nothing like me.