Chapter 14 Chris
CHRIS
Something warm and wet dragged across my cheek.
I groaned, half-buried in sleep, my mind still tangled in the remnants of yesterday. My body ached with that specific exhaustion that came from too little rest and too many thoughts, chewing at the edges of my skull.
“Jaime,” I murmured, voice thick. “I’m sorry.”
The word sorry felt heavy even in my mouth. It pressed out of me before I could stop it, instinctive and clumsy.
“I’m sorry for acting so cold yesterday,” I added, barely awake.
The silence that followed was wrong. Even through the haze of sleep, something snagged. I inwardly cringed.
What kind of apology was that? Half-formed. Conveniently timed and spoken when I wasn’t even fully conscious enough to face it. If Jaime heard that, it would sound like a cop-out.
Like I was trying to soothe my guilt without doing the work. I shifted, my chest tightening.
I remembered him turning over in bed last night, the mattress dipping and rising with restless movement. I’d pretended to be asleep. Coward.
He probably hadn’t slept much either. Neither of us had.
The air between us had been brittle, sharp enough to cut if either of us breathed wrong. Levi’s voice echoed in my head, unwelcome and accurate. Don’t let this turn sour. You’ve got something good.
Instead, I’d made it worse. I swallowed and shifted again, feeling the warm weight still on my chest. Hold on. Why would Jaime be licking my face?
“Jaime?” I pressed, confusion finally breaking through the fog.
My eyelids fluttered open. A wet nose hovered inches from my face. I yelped, startled, jerking upright.
Pampi yipped in surprise, scrambling slightly, and I caught her reflexively before she could tumble off my chest. Her tail thumped against my ribs, ears perked, eyes bright and unapologetic.
“Oh,” I breathed, heart hammering. “You.”
She tilted her head and gave my chin another determined lick, clearly pleased with herself. I snorted despite everything.
“Real romantic wake-up call, huh?” I asked.
She wriggled, letting out a soft whine that curled straight into my chest.
“What’s wrong, girl?” I asked, rubbing behind her ears. “You hungry?”
Her response was immediate. Another whine, higher this time, paired with an expectant stare toward the floor.
“Yeah, okay,” I muttered. “I’m up. I’m up.”
I swung my legs out of bed, the room spinning slightly as I stood. Lack of sleep weighed heavy, my thoughts sluggish, my body a half-second behind my intentions.
I shuffled across the room, bumping lightly into the edge of the dresser before finding my bearings. Dog food. Where did Jaime keep it again? I crouched, rummaging until I found the container.
Pampi sat beside me, posture immaculate, tail sweeping the carpet like she’d rehearsed this moment.
“Don’t rush me,” I told her, even as I scooped the food into her bowl. “You’d think I starved you.”
She didn’t dignify that with a response. The second the bowl hit the floor, she was in it, crunching with focused enthusiasm.
I filled her water too, setting it down next to the food, then leaned back against the bedframe, watching her eat. That’s when it hit me. Something about this was wrong.
The realization crept in slowly, like fog lifting just enough to reveal a cliff edge.
My brain felt thick today, slow to connect dots that usually snapped together without effort. I scrubbed a hand down my face, trying to shake off the lingering haze. What was it?
I watched Pampi eat, ears flicking happily, tail swaying.
Jaime usually fed her every morning without fail. My stomach dropped. I straightened, scanning the room. Jaime’s side of the bed was empty, sheets rumpled but cold. His bag still sat by the chair.
He hadn’t left. So where was he?
A prickle of unease slid down my spine, subtle but insistent. My wolf stirred beneath it, a low restlessness that had nothing to do with hunger or sleep.
“Okay,” I murmured. “Okay.”
I forced myself to breathe. He probably just stepped out for an early morning walk to get some fresh air. He hadn’t slept well. Neither of us had. That made sense. So why did my chest feel tight?
“Phone,” I muttered, patting the nightstand, then the bed.
I dug under the pillow, fingers brushing against smooth glass. There. I unlocked it with clumsy hands. There was one unread message.
Jaime: Went to check out the dog relief area. Will be back soon.
The timestamp stared back at me. It was early. I frowned. The dog relief area. Where was that again?
Had we walked it together? My mind tried to picture it, came up frustratingly blank. My thoughts skidded, refusing to settle.
Why was he up so early? Because he couldn’t sleep, I reminded myself sharply. I’d left him alone with his thoughts after snapping at him, and I’d chosen pride over honesty.
Guilt bloomed, hot and sour. Still, the unease didn’t fade. If anything, it deepened.
My wolf shifted under my skin, alert now, pacing. It wasn’t panic. Not yet.
It was the same feeling I got before something went wrong. Before instincts started whispering that I’d missed a step.
“I’m being paranoid,” I told myself quietly.
I leaned down, resting my forearms on my knees, watching Pampi finish her breakfast. She glanced up at me, tail wagging once, trusting and calm.
I wished I felt the same. Images from last night replayed uninvited. Jaime’s closed-off expression. How easily I’d let him think I didn’t trust him. How unfair that was.
He’d defended me. I knew that now, even if it had taken Levi spelling it out. Jaime didn’t hand out trust lightly, and when he did, it mattered.
I’d repaid that by sulking, by drinking, by snapping when he questioned something that deserved a calm answer. I’d hurt him, and Jaime had been hurt a lot. The thought sat heavy in my chest.
I stood and paced the room once, then twice, my footfalls soft against the carpet. I glanced at the door again, half-expecting it to open any second. Nothing.
“Come on,” I muttered. “Come back already.”
I hated this feeling. The waiting. The not knowing. The realization that I’d created distance when what I wanted most was closeness. If something happened to him…
I cut that thought off sharply.
Nothing had happened. He was fine. Jaime was competent, cautious, and more than capable of taking care of himself. This wasn’t about danger. This was about me.
About how quickly I let my insecurities turn sharp and how easily I’d forgotten that partnerships weren’t about keeping score or proving worth in silence. They were about talking, even when it was uncomfortable.
Levi was right, and if I didn’t fix this soon, I might lose something I hadn’t even fully admitted I wanted yet. Pampi finished eating and trotted over, nudging my knee with her nose.
“Yeah,” I whispered, crouching to scratch her chest. “I know. I messed up.”
She licked my hand, forgiving without conditions. I wished I deserved that same grace. I straightened as footsteps sounded faintly in the hallway outside our door, my heart jumping despite myself.
Please be him, I thought. Please.
The tension finally snapped. I yanked the door open, heart already in my throat, wolf surging forward like it had claws instead of instincts… and nearly collided with a stranger.
He staggered, mumbled something unintelligible, then fumbled with the keycard for the room next door. The sharp tang of alcohol rolled off him in waves.
He laughed at nothing, leaned his forehead against the doorframe, and after a few tries managed to let himself in. The door shut.
I stood there, breathing hard, adrenaline crashing into embarrassment so fast it made my ears burn.
“Idiot,” I muttered to myself.
My pulse took its time slowing, my wolf grumbling restlessly under my skin. He wasn’t fooled. He hadn’t surged like that for nothing.
I shut the door and turned back into the room, no longer able to sit still. The air felt wrong in here now.
“Okay,” I said under my breath. “Okay.”
I moved fast, pulling on jeans and a hoodie, shoving my phone into my pocket. Pampi watched me from the floor, ears pricked, body alert. She sensed it too. Dogs always did.
“Come on, girl,” I said, clipping her leash on. “We’re going for a walk.”
She wagged once, sharp and eager, already vibrating with energy.
The moment we stepped into the hallway, the feeling sharpened. My wolf pressed hard against my ribs, urgency humming through every nerve.
Hurry. Hurry.
“I know,” I whispered, jaw tight.
We moved quickly through the hotel, past early risers and bleary-eyed guests clutching coffee cups. I kept my head down, senses flaring. Every sound felt too loud. Every scent too strong.
I was this close to shifting. The urge crested hard and fast, fur prickling beneath my skin, bones aching with the need to stretch, to run, to hunt.
No. Not here. I clenched my fists, breathing through it, forcing control the way Cooper had drilled into me over and over. You don’t let instinct drive. You guide it.
Outside, the morning air hit my face, cool and damp. I sucked it in, grounding myself just enough to keep my human shape intact. I pulled out my phone with shaking fingers and brought up the map Jaime had sent earlier.
The dog relief area wasn’t far. A little tent tucked away at the edge of the parking lot, out of sight from the main entrance. It was unsettlingly quiet.
We jogged the rest of the way, my stride eating up the distance. Pampi trotted beside me, leash loose, focused. As soon as we crossed the threshold into the tented area, everything went wrong.
Pampi froze. Then she barked frantically, the sound slicing straight through my chest. Finally, I smelled it. Fresh blood, metallic and wrong, cutting through the familiar warmth of Jaime’s scent like a blade.
“No,” I breathed.
My worst fear detonated inside me. A growl tore up my throat, raw and vicious, my wolf slamming against my skin hard enough to make my vision blur. The urge to tear, to destroy, flooded me so fast it stole my breath.
Pampi whimpered, ducking closer to my legs, her ears flattening. That snapped me back.
“Hey,” I said hoarsely, crouching. “Hey. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
I forced myself to breathe. In. Out. Again.
Control. My wolf fought me, furious and terrified, but I held him back, wrapping him tight in restraint until the red haze receded enough for me to think. I stood slowly and took in the scene.
The tent was empty. The water refill station sat at the far end.
I stepped closer, nostrils flaring. There. A faint, unpleasant chemical tang threaded through the air. Not enough to scream danger to a human. Enough to make my wolf snarl.
I leaned closer to the jug and sniffed again. It was subtle, but I was pretty sure it smelled like bitter almonds. My gaze dropped. There was a spill near the back leg of the table. Same smell. Same wrongness.
My stomach twisted. I bent down, sniffing it again. This wasn’t accidental, and this was no careless mistake. This was deliberate.
Pieces slammed together in my head with sickening clarity. The sabotaged obstacles, the sickness that hit dogs whose handlers shared space, shared resources.
Jaime. He must’ve noticed something off. He probably realized what was happening… and Jaime had been caught.
“Damn it, Jaime,” I muttered under my breath, throat tight.
My hands shook and I stepped back, careful not to disturb anything further. I needed proof. Heck, I needed Cooper’s advice on how to proceed forward. I needed…
Blood. I followed the scent, my wolf surging forward again, this time focused and sharp. It led out the back flap of the tent. The parking lot beyond was empty at this hour, mist curling low to the ground.
The trail stretched a short distance, then faded abruptly near the edge of the lot. A vehicle had been here. The scent ended cleanly, like it had been scooped up and driven away.
I stood there, chest heaving, fury and fear tangling tight inside me. Alive. Please let him be alive.
I pulled out my phone with hands that barely felt like my own and hit Cooper’s number. He answered on the second ring.
“Chris,” Cooper said. “What’s going on?”
“I’m at the relief area,” I said, voice low and tight. “It’s the water. It’s been tampered with. There’s poison. And blood.”
A sharp inhale on the other end.
“Jaime,” Cooper said.
“His scent’s here. He must’ve interrupted the real perp.”
“Are you safe?” Cooper asked.
“Yes,” I said. “But the trail ends in the parking lot.”
“Stay where you are,” Cooper ordered. “I’m mobilizing people now.”
I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. “I’ll secure the area.”
“Good work. And Chris,” Cooper added, voice firm. “Find him.”
The call ended. I stood there for a moment longer, the morning air cold against my skin, my wolf pacing hard inside me, desperate and furious.
Pampi pressed against my leg, her small body warm and solid, an anchor in a moment that threatened to rip me apart. Brave girl. Braver than I felt right then.
I rested a hand on her head, fingers threading through soft fur, grounding myself in the simple, living proof that not everything had gone wrong yet.
I straightened slowly, squaring my shoulders even as my heart thundered hard enough to bruise my ribs from the inside. The parking lot stretched out before me, empty and indifferent.
My eyes swept the space again and again, cataloging tire tracks, discarded cups, anything that didn’t belong. My mind raced ahead of my body, running scenarios I didn’t want to finish.
Fear gnawed at me, sharp and relentless, but beneath it was something fiercer. Jaime wasn’t just my partner on this mission. He wasn’t just the man who challenged me, trusted me, kissed me like he meant it.
He was mine in a way that felt inevitable, like my wolf had known long before I’d dared to admit it. My mate.
“I’ll get you back,” I whispered into the cool morning air, the words rough with promise. “I swear it.”
My chest tightened, emotion threatening to spill over, and I forced myself to breathe through it. Please, I added silently, softer now.
Please come back safe. Let me fix this. Let me say the things I didn’t say.
Pampi huffed softly, as if in agreement. I brushed my thumb along her ear, then lifted my head again, senses sharpening, purpose locking into place. Whoever took him had made a mistake.
They’d underestimated how far I was willing to go.