Chapter 18
Sean
The crew worked together like a dream.
If someone had told me two months ago that I’d be standing at a festival cooking station with a group of bear shifters, competing in a town-wide baking competition, I would’ve laughed.
But here I was, sleeves rolled up, flour dusting my forearms, and heart pounding, not from fear, for once, but excitement.
Leo was piping cream like a pro, his brow furrowed in concentration.
Cassian and Dorian worked in seamless sync, handing off ingredients and utensils without a word, like they could read each other’s minds.
Rafael manned the oven, his timing impeccable, barking out when something was five seconds from golden perfection.
I blinked. A memory flashed. My first day teaching the crew. Chaos. Leo had mistaken salt for sugar and nearly ruined the dough.
Cassian and Rafael argued over whose turn it was to sift flour, and Dorian had stood in the corner looking like he’d rather face a rabid cougar than touch a spatula.
And now…look at them.
I swallowed back the emotion pressing at my throat. I wanted to tell them how proud I was, how grateful, but not yet. We were still on the clock.
“All right,” I called out. “One down, two to go. Let’s keep that tempo up!”
The town square buzzed around us, a flurry of voices and music and the sizzle of cooking from the other stations. We had to prepare three pastries in the span of an hour.
One was in the bag. Our summer berry honey tart. Next up: maple pecan croissants, and our showstopper, our savory-sweet peach pie.”
We moved fast. Flour flew, ovens clicked, timers beeped. The announcer’s voice echoed in the background, barely audible through the haze of focus.
“Thirty minutes remaining!”
I glanced over at Beau. He was spreading the glaze over the croissants, methodical, but his jaw was tight.
“Hey,” I said, keeping my voice low. “You gonna burn a hole in that tray with your glare, or…?”
He startled slightly, then gave me a strained smile. “I’m good.”
I didn’t push. I understood. We both had the same fear gnawing at the back of our minds. That Orin might strike today, during all the noise and celebration.
But part of me had dared to hope. Maybe Orin had seen the size of Rafael, the coordination of our team, the strength of Beau and thought, not worth it.
I turned my attention back to the station. Fifteen minutes to go.
Cassian passed me the filling. “Last one.”
I scooped it into the final pastry with trembling fingers. Not from fear this time, just adrenaline. We were so close.
Five minutes. Plates were being garnished. Glazes touched up. A stray smear wiped. I dusted powdered sugar over the two danishes.
When the timer rang, we stepped back. We’d made it.
“Time’s up! Step away from your stations, bakers!”
I exhaled and wiped my forehead with the back of my arm. My shirt clung to my spine. Beau handed me a hand towel without a word, his gaze scanning the crowd behind us, still alert.
I took the towel, let my fingers linger against his for a second, and offered a smile. “Thanks.”
He nodded, but I could tell he was barely here, barely present. His grizzly was on edge.
I turned and looked across the way. Wolf and Whisk’s station glinted like a page from a gourmet magazine. Their pastries looked stunning. Polished. Sophisticated.
My stomach turned.
“They might look nice,” Cassian said beside me, “but ours taste better.”
I chuckled. “Here’s hoping the judges agree.”
And then they were announced.
The first two I recognized. Clara Greene was a popular blogger, and Marius Kent was the food columnist from the state paper. They were safe. Predictable.
But the third name…
My blood ran cold.
“…and finally, Chef Thomas Cane, esteemed culinary instructor and guest judge from Astor Culinary Academy!”
No way. It took guts to walk into Bear and Bun and ask for me, but to worm his way into the competition? That was something else entirely.
I couldn’t breathe. He stepped onto the platform in a sleek suit, hair slicked back, every inch the charming professional. Except I knew better.
I saw the way his gaze searched the crowd. And when his eyes landed on me, his smile widened, slow and deliberate. Like he’d been waiting for this moment.
“Can’t breathe,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the applause.
I didn’t wait. I shoved past the table, ignoring the startled glances from our crew, from Beau. I needed air.
I stumbled off the stage, shouldering through the crowd. Someone asked if I was okay. I ignored them.
My legs carried me toward the edge of the square, past booths and stalls and laughing children. It was too loud. Too bright. I couldn’t hear myself think.
The alley beside the café was blessedly empty, dim and narrow, muffling the festival’s noise behind me. I ducked into it, bracing my hands against my knees, trying to catch my breath.
But the air still felt too tight, too close. My wolf paced restlessly beneath my skin, snarling at invisible threats. I needed space. Air. Trees.
Instinct guided my feet beyond the alley’s end, where a worn footpath trailed off into the woods lining the edge of town.
I followed it, my pulse thudding in my ears, the scent of pine and damp earth slowly replacing funnel cakes and roasted meat.
Maybe if I got far enough in, my wolf would settle. Maybe if I was alone with the trees and the wind, I could think. Breathe. Prepare if Orin really did make his move.
The image of Orin’s face, his smug, poisonous smile, burned behind my eyes. It was like my dream, only worse, because this was real. He was here.
I slapped a hand against a nearby tree and tried to think, to reason with myself. But the panic was a wildfire, and I was dry grass.
At the same time, I was furious with myself for reacting like this, for letting Orin get to me again.
I also couldn’t believe I’d done it again. Run. Left without warning Beau. I should’ve said something. I should’ve told him. But the look in Orin’s eyes…
He wasn’t just here to judge. He was here to finally settle the score with me.
I leaned back against a tree trunk and tilted my head to the sky, trying to slow my racing pulse. The cool shadows of the forest wrapped around me, but the fresh air barely helped.
My heart was still pounding like I’d just run a mile uphill.
Somewhere in the distance, I could still hear the hum of the festival. The announcer's voice, a wave of crowd cheering. It all felt too far away. Too safe. Too unreachable.
I shouldn't have left the station. I dug my fingers into the bark behind me and tried to quiet the panicked thrum in my chest. Orin wasn’t just judging pastries today.
He was judging me. And that smile… That awful, smug smile… It was like a promise. Like he already knew how this day would end.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
I fumbled it out with trembling fingers, the name on the screen grounding me: Beau.
Guilt slammed into me harder than the panic. I hadn’t even warned him I was leaving. Again. Dang it, I didn’t want to be this person anymore.
I answered quickly, voice low and apologetic. “Hey. Beau, I’m—”
“Where are you?” His voice was clipped. Tense. “You can’t just vanish like that, Sean. Not today.”
“I’m sorry.” I hated how small I sounded. “I just… needed some air. I walked out past the alley and into the woods. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Beau exhaled hard on the other end, and I could picture him dragging a hand through his hair, trying to stay calm.
“You can’t be alone. You know that. Especially not now. I’m coming to get you. Stay put,” Beau ordered.
“I will. I promise.”
A soft crunch behind me made every hair on my body stand on end. I turned, heart slamming back into panic mode. My phone still pressed to my ear. “Wait. Hold on.”
A figure stepped out from behind the trees, tall and broad-shouldered. Blond hair, tan skin, muscles stacked like bricks beneath a worn jacket. And a jagged scar slashed across his left cheek.
His smile was too casual. He looked familiar.
“Sean?” Beau barked through the phone, voice rising with alarm.
I didn’t answer him. My eyes were locked on the man in front of me. The memory clicked into place like a snapped trap.
He wasn’t a stranger. I’d seen him before. Hanging around after Orin’s classes at the Institute.
Leaning against the wall outside the building like he owned the place. Laughing with Orin. He never spoke much, just stared too long at whoever walked past.
“Vito…” I whispered.
The man’s smile widened, making the scar ripple grotesquely. “Good. Saves us the trouble of introductions.”
I stepped back, the bark of the tree scraping against my spine. “What do you want?”
His eyes gleamed. “Orin sent me. Said it was time you two had a nice little chat. You’ve been dodging him long enough, don’t you think?”
My breath hitched. I could still hear Beau shouting through the phone, his voice tinny in my ear.
“I gotta go,” I muttered quickly, barely able to keep my voice steady. “I’ll see you soon.” I hung up and shoved the phone in my pocket.
“Nice and quiet out here, huh?” Vito said, almost conversationally. “Shame you didn’t stay with the crowd. Would’ve made things harder for me. But now… here you are.”
I started sidestepping, keeping my back to the trees, heart threatening to crack my ribs. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Oh, I do,” he said, and suddenly his hands weren’t hands anymore.
His fingers elongated into claws, black and curved. The bones cracked audibly as they shifted, his grin never faltering.
“You wouldn’t believe how long I’ve wanted to stretch my legs like this. Run down something pretty. Been a while.”
I didn’t wait for him to finish. I bolted. He cursed, then laughed. The sound sent ice down my spine. He crashed after me through the undergrowth.
Vito was blocking the path back to the festival, so I turned and tore deeper into the woods. My breath rasped in my throat. Branches lashed at my arms and face.
My wolf pushed forward, frantic, snarling for release. For speed. For survival.
I leapt over a fallen log, boots slipping in a patch of mud as I landed, stumbling hard. Pain shot through my ankle, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. He was behind me. I could hear him.
Vito didn’t move like someone chasing a victim. He moved like someone hunting. Methodical. Patient. Like he wanted me to know he could catch me whenever he wanted.
“Sean,” he sang through the trees. “You’re gonna make me work for it, huh? That’s fine. I like a chase.”
My lungs burned. I shoved a branch aside and ducked through the underbrush, the roar of my heartbeat drowning out all thought.
I needed to hide. Or fight. Or heck, I didn’t know. Just not die.
I spotted a thick outcropping of trees up ahead and swerved toward it, hoping I could lose him, circle around, get back to the festival somehow.
And then something slammed into me from the side.
We hit the ground in a tangle of limbs and teeth. His claws raked down my side, slicing my shirt. I screamed and kicked, landing a lucky hit to his stomach, enough to roll him off me.
I scrambled to my feet, blood hot on my skin, and sprinted again. My wolf was howling now. Shift, shift, shift!
But fear locked my body down. All I could do was run.
Vito roared behind me, closer now, so close. I could hear him breathing. Hear the animal in him clawing to the surface.
“I like you better like this,” he growled. “All shaky. All scared.”
I wasn’t going to make it much farther.