Wolf Fated

Chapter Sixteen

Sarah

Ileave Willowbrook sobbing uncontrollably, the Honda Civic’s tires kicking up plumes of dust in my wake. Hot tears blur my vision as I peel out onto the main road, Mitch’s anguished face seared into my mind’s eye. The memory of him standing alone and watching me drive away after I utterly shattered his heart is an agonizing brand on my soul.

I drive for days in a tear-stained, sleepless haze, the miles blurring together. Thank God I scraped up a few dollars I found in my car’s console to pay for gas. All I know is I need to put as much distance as possible between myself and Willowbrook, that beautiful, quaint little town where the lines between human and animal blur.

Eventually I find myself in a large, indifferent city. Towering skyscrapers loom over crowded streets packed with people rushing along with bowed heads. The noise and chaos should be comforting in its familiarity, but it only makes me feel more hollowed out and alone.

I am nothing but a cavernous shell, an empty husk of the woman I was. I left my heart in a tattered, bloodied lump at Mitch’s feet.

My insides have been carved out with a rusted spoon and are nothing more than a bloodied mess.

I miss him.

I miss his warmth. His caring. The way he looked at me as though he saw nothing else. It’s more than anyone has ever seen me before. Or probably will ever again. I fight the urge to run back and fall into his arms. To give myself over to the magnetic pull that twists me up inside.

But I can”t go back.

Not after leaving him so devastated. Not when my mind is still such a tangled, confused mess of doubts and fears.

The day I arrive in this nameless city, I pay for some groceries, having forgotten that Mark has cleaned out my account. I’m shocked when my card isn”t declined. I fire up my banking app with shaking fingers to find ten thousand dollars inexplicably deposited into my account.

Mitch. It has to be him. I shattered his world and he’s still trying to take care of me.

I cry for another day, feeling like the worst kind of person.

Eventually I pick myself up and find an apartment to rent above an elderly woman”s garage for a month, counting every penny to stretch Mitch”s funds. A week later, I receive a text from Mark saying he’s returned every penny he stole and to never contact him again.

Mitch has to be behind that too. There’s no way Mark would have returned any money to me otherwise. Heart aching and pounding I go to call Mitch, only to find no trace of him online.

After a frantic search online, there’s no record of Willowbrook either.

My situation grows more real. I might never see Mitch again. My choices have been stripped away, the path decided for me by circumstance and magic out of my control.

I tumble into a suffocating depression, the weight of my regrets and fears dragging me down into an abyss where I can barely eat or sleep. There is a constant, nagging tug in my soul toward Willowbrook—toward Mitch and the bond we shared.

But he may never want me back after how I hurt him.

I made my choice when I fled and I have to live with the consequences.

So I do the only thing that stirs any flicker of life or interest.

I write.

I pour every agonizing feeling, every moment of love and terror and confusion out onto the page. I funnel my shredded heart, my fracturing sense of self into the narrative as both an exorcism and a love letter. With each new chapter, each day that passes, the heavy veil that has blinded me lifts and the world becomes clearer and I see things through a new lens.

Mitch isn”t a monster. He was protecting me from a very real threat. If he hadn”t exploded into action, I would be dead. His wolf side is a part of who he is, not something separate to be feared. It was my own doubts and panic that sent me fleeing when Mitch simply wanted to share his truth with me.

My breath shudders and sends a renewed flood of tears streaming down my face because now I know. I understand what happened to me from that very first moment I laid eyes on the Sheriff of Willowbrook.

I’ve fallen in love with Mitch.

Utterly, unequivocally, with every battered shard of my soul. My doubts let fear convince me otherwise, but now I see it with every bone in my body.

Mitch is my destiny, despite the impossible circumstances that brought us together.

It is fate after all.

Things became crazy before he had a chance to explain it all to me. I should have had more faith in the bond blossoming between us instead of letting it wither because of my own insecurities.

Mitch saved me. And then he let me walk away. He did all of that because he loves me back and I…

I have to see him again.

I have to beg for his forgiveness.

For a second chance.

I love Mitch, and I need to be with him. Now and for every aching, wonderful eternity to come. I want to shower him with every ounce of adoration I possess until he realizes I love him more ferociously than I ever thought possible.

For the first time in endless aching weeks, I come alive. I’m awake and aware in a way that sparks every nerve ending with anticipation and purpose.

I print off the final draft of my manuscript—the book that I know will be a bestseller not because of the writing but because of the heart behind it. The hero at its core, whose devotion and inner light shine through every word on every page.

Because I was inspired knowing what true love really is.

I pack my belongings, thanking the kindly old landlady for her patience as I pay the remainder of the rent. I get in my car and simply...drive. I backtrack as far as my blurry memory of those first few panicked days can manage, searching for anything familiar. But the roads all seem to lead in aimless, repeating circles. I come to a T-intersection bathed in the fiery glow of dusk and realize with a sinking feeling that I”m utterly lost. My phone”s GPS is useless, unable to get a signal worth anything.

Gripping the steering wheel hard enough to sting, I squeeze my eyes shut and simply...feel. Feel for that blazing bond burning inside me. And there it is. I find it so easily that I can’t believe I ever doubted it was there.

It’s warm and golden, glowing like a rope of sunlight tugging at the anchors of my soul. It thrums with a sense of home and welcome, of cherished belonging in a way I”ve never known.

This is love in its purest, most divine form.

My breath catches as the bond tugs, urging me to turn right at the intersection. To follow the gleaming thread back to its source—back to the other half of my soul waiting for me in Willowbrook.

I turn onto the road that feels so undeniably right, letting the bond guide me with nothing else but faith.