Chapter 47
Chapter Forty-Seven
I’ve been staying late at work, grasping at any excuse to avoid going home, but the inevitable can’t be postponed forever. As I walk past security, the guards give me odd looks, their gazes lingering like I’ve grown a second head. Their disapproval is almost tangible.
I ignore them, my trainers squeaking on the polished floor as I push through the doors into the stormy evening. The summer sky churns above, dark and brooding. The wind carries the scent of rain, tangling my hair and biting through my coat. I pull the fabric tighter and hunch my shoulders as I walk.
Paws echo softly behind me.
In my spare time, I’ve been designing better sensory bands. The Ministry of Magic has already introduced replacements after the old ones were exposed as dangerously flawed—a scandal that caused quite an uproar.
I quicken my pace, passing the oak tree and the empty plot where the wizard’s house once stood. The residual magic hums faintly against my senses.
When I reach my building, the grey wolf trailing me watches me go inside.
Because I refused to speak to Merrick, he decided the best way to handle my rejection was by following me everywhere in his wolf form.
He won’t let me go.
I give Matthew a quick wave as I pass the security desk. He waves back, his gaze flicking briefly to the wolf before pretending he sees nothing. The lift dings softly, and I step inside.
If I ignore the steady presence of the wolf shadowing me, it’s almost as though my life has returned to normal, as if I’ve never had an epic adventure that upended everything.
I avoid the blond, nosy neighbour—Riker—who conveniently moved in across the hall.
Inside my apartment, I set Hatty on her book stand and make a half-hearted attempt at dinner, more from habit than hunger. Then I settle on the sofa, flipping through television channels until I land on an apocalypse film. I’ve developed a strange fascination with them—there’s something grimly satisfying about watching worlds crumble while people fight to survive. It puts my problems into perspective. They feel smaller by comparison.
Hours pass in a blur of explosions, desperate protagonists, and collapsing cities, but eventually, I find myself drawn to the window. It’s foolish, I know. My heart tugs before my feet can argue. I sigh, wander over, and lift the curtain a few centimetres.
There he is on the grass below the balcony, curled into a ball with his head resting on his paws, gazing right back at me.
It’s raining.
For two weeks, this has been his routine—trailing me to work, following me home, then spending the nights outside my building, staring at my window. He is my big furry shadow.
The weather was decent until now, but as July settles in, the heavens have opened.
Using my shifter magic, I focus on him. Raindrops cling to his fur and drip off his nose.
“Bloody wolf,” I mutter under my breath. “Why won’t he just get lost?”
It’s easier to stay angry than admit how much I miss him, but after two weeks, my hurt is wearing thin.
What will he do when winter arrives? The cold will be brutal. Yes, his coat will keep him warm, but he is not just a wolf—he is a man. A man reduced to this. I wonder if people are laughing at him, and I worry what this will do to his reputation.
He looks so sad.
I turn away, yank the curtains closed, and flop onto the sofa. The television is still on, but I can’t concentrate.
My fated mate is outside in the rain, and I’m just sitting here. This is bloody ridiculous.
With a frustrated growl, I snatch a fluffy towel from the airing cupboard, stomp down the hall, and grab my keys and building pass. After putting on my trainers, I head downstairs and outside.
“Get in here!” I snap at the wolf.
His head is lowered, tail tucked, the drenched wolf tries to make himself smaller. He is soaked through as he follows me inside.
Matthew watches with wide eyes. I ignore him, throw the towel over Merrick, and dry him off with more vigour than necessary.
“You can’t leave water everywhere—someone might slip. Your stinky fur is dripping,” I grumble, rubbing harder than I need to.
Merrick, of course, does not smell. His coat is glossy and clean, but I don’t want to acknowledge it. He stands patiently, fixing me with those big blue eyes as I work from head to tail.
His tongue lolls out when I dry his belly.
“Shut up,” I mutter.
“Alpha Prime,” Matthew says quietly, bowing his head in respect.
I roll my eyes and step into the lift, Merrick padding beside me. He sits obediently by my leg as we ride up, the damp towel dripping in my hand.
When we reach my apartment, I open the door, and he follows me inside.
“Don’t you dare shift,” I warn, tossing the towel into the washing machine.
I fill a bowl with water and take a couple of raw steaks from the fridge. He has been losing weight, and I can’t stand seeing his ribs show. Placing the steaks on the floor next to the water bowl, I turn on my heel and march to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me.
In my dressing room, I change into pyjamas, then slam myself onto the bed, fluffing the pillow with more force than necessary.
With the covers pulled up to my chin, I listen to the rain and the soft tap-tap-tap of Merrick’s claws pacing the hallway. At last, I hear the door creak as he settles, leaning against it.
I growl under my breath and close my eyes, but sleep does not come.
I’m being childish and cruel.
I’ve never been one to use the silent treatment—it’s such an arsehole move, an awful tactic. Yet here I am, doing exactly that. It wasn’t my intention. I broke up with him; that should’ve been the end.
But getting rid of a shifter, a fated mate, is harder than it sounds.
He has decided to be my self-appointed bodyguard.
I don’t know who’s running his empire while he’s out here playing the world’s saddest stalker. Perhaps he is secretly working when I’m not looking.
What do I do with him?
I miss him. I… I love him. I wouldn’t be so hurt by his plan to catch Leonidas if I didn’t love him. But can I forgive him?