Chapter 18 #2
“Shit.” He exhaled slow. “Listen. Opening night, there’ll be a dozen of us in the crowd, not to mention extra security. Even Menace and Savannah are flying down for it. You got a full-court press on your side. And if it gets out of hand, you call me or Juliet. We’ll sort it out.”
I bit my cheek. “Juliet’s coming? Even this close to…?”
He snorted. “She’s seven months pregnant, Finn. Not dead. She bought some kind of fancy sequined maternity evening gown. And I’ll be dressed up like a dignified Alpha. You gonna let me outshine you?”
I laughed finally. “Maybe I’ll find a bolo tie and make you look underdressed.”
“Now you’re talking.” He paused, the mood lightening. “You and Brie need anything, you call. Day or night.”
I meant to say thanks. Instead I blurted, “Bronc?”
“Yeah?”
“Did this happen to you? I mean the mate bond going off like a fire alarm?”
Bronc didn’t answer right away. “When she disappeared last year. After I got her back and re-established our bond, one night she came up missing.” He paused as though the memory had assaulted him.
“She’d wandered out into the woods behind the house.
She was still so fucking traumatized she got turned around and had no idea where she was.
I felt her fear like a bolt of lightning through the bond and took off, letting that feeling guide me.
” He gave a small laugh. “She wasn’t far from the house, but I’d never been so goddamn glad to see anyone when I saw her small frame sitting on a log bawling her eyes out.
If you’re feeling Brie’s anxiety, it’s because she needs you; and you’ll be there for her too. ”
That hit deep, the way good advice does.
We hung up with a promise to see each other at the opening, and I turned onto Main.
The gallery was the only building for three blocks lit up like a UFO landing.
The entire town was dark—power outages were common in Dairyville when the rain got biblical—but Brie wisely had a backup generator installed just in case, and the place blazed with every bulb on the circuit.
I parked half on the curb and jogged to the front door. I used my key and opened the door. Inside, the warmth and light were almost enough to make me forget why I’d rushed over.
Almost.
Brie stood in the entryway, arms crossed over her chest, pacing a rut into the rain-protected hardwoods. Her eyes were red-rimmed, mascara smudged from earlier tears. The minute she saw me, she ran straight into my arms, burrowing her face in my chest.
“Hey, hey,” I murmured. “You’re okay. I’m here.”
She shook, and it took her a while to steady enough to speak. “I—I saw something, Finn. I know it sounds stupid, but I think there’s something wrong here.”
I held her tighter. “Tell me what happened.”
She pulled back, wiped her face, and started talking.
Her words came fast, jagged. “I was in the office, doing RSVP stuff. I must have dozed off. But it wasn’t sleep.
I felt…watched. Like something was in the room with me, behind the glass.
I looked up, and there was this—this shadow.
And then it was gone, but I heard a voice. Right next to my ear. It said, ‘Soon.’”
She shuddered, then looked up at me, eyes so wide and blue I felt it in my bones. “When I got up, I checked the gallery, but nothing. I even checked the doors, the bathroom, everywhere. It was just me. I locked myself in, turned on every light. But I keep feeling it. The air is wrong.”
I smoothed her hair. “Maybe it was a dream. You said you were exhausted.”
“I know what dreams are, Finn.” The words came out sharp, brittle. “This wasn’t that. I was awake. Or at least I thought I was.”
I wanted to say something comforting. Something that would make sense of it.
But the truth was, the last few days had knocked every certainty sideways.
I’d never seen my mate so raw, so convinced she’d been touched by something she couldn’t see.
And my wolf was pacing the length of my chest, ears pricked for danger.
“Alright, sweet girl,” I said, holding her at arm’s length.
“Here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna check every inch of this place together.
But before we do, I’m gonna give the guys a call and see if they wanna meet at Pearl’s for dinner.
Then we’re gonna go have a sit-down with everyone and eat some good food and enjoy good company. How does that sound?”
She nodded, mouth set. “Anything sounds better than having to be alone in this building.”
“You won’t have to,” I promised. I kissed her head and sent her to the restroom to clean her face and get herself ready to go.
I did a lap of the gallery, office, and back rooms. I checked the roof access, the stairwell, even the alley behind the dumpsters. Nothing. Not a single sign that anyone but us had been in the building.
Back in the main room, Brie watched the storm through the front windows, her hands jammed deep in her hoodie pockets. “You think I’m going nuts.”
“Not even a little,” I said. I pulled her into my arms, kissing her temple. “If you feel something’s wrong, that’s all I need to know.”
She softened against me. “It’s just… I wanted this to be my thing. My gallery. But now I’m afraid to be alone in it.”
I didn’t know what to say. I’d never believed in ghosts or things that go bump in the night. But I’d seen the way the world changed when you weren’t looking—how easy it was for bad things to sneak in. And I wasn’t going to let Brie face anything alone.
“Come on,” I said. “Let’s lock up, go to Pearl’s, and eat something unhealthy.”
She managed a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
We turned out all but the security lights, set the alarm, and headed for the truck.
As we left, I glanced back at the big plate-glass windows.
For half a second, I thought I saw a shadow flicker along the wall behind us.
But it was gone so fast, I almost convinced myself it was just a trick of the storm.
Almost.
As we drove to Pearl’s, I rested my hand on her thigh, thumb tracing small circles just to remind her I was there.
But my mind kept spinning. If there was something stalking my mate—something more than nightmares—I’d burn Dairyville to ash to stop it.
Whatever it was, it was real.
And I would find it.
Pearl’s was packed, the noise level set to “barn raising.” We claimed the long table at the back, near the jukebox and under a bank of Christmas lights that never came down. The smell of frying oil and pecan pie was so thick you could taste it in the air.
The girls—Aspen, Parker, Harper, and even Juliet, who looked radiant and almost ready to pop—clustered at one end, chattering about the upcoming gallery opening, baby names, and the latest pack drama.
Aspen’s eyes sparkled when she talked about her bakery’s custom cake for opening night, and Parker cackled every time Harper told a story about the bitchy pack moms trying to slow her down.
Even Juliet was laughing, one hand perpetually resting on her belly as if she could barely keep the twins from busting out early.
Brie fit right in. The tightness in her shoulders melted, her voice clear and wicked, her laughter bright enough to make people at other tables turn and stare. Every once in a while, her eyes would dart my way, and she’d grin like we shared a secret no one else could see.
At the other end, the men had already settled into the familiar rhythm of “who can eat the most,” “who can bullshit the hardest,” and “whose life is the most tragic.” Arsenal ran point, as always, dissecting the best routes for parking at the gallery and which local cops to bribe for crowd control.
Papa watched it all with the serene patience of a man who’d lived through a few wars and still thought nothing beat a good pot roast.
Wrecker sat beside me, clean shirt and all, glowering at a plate piled two feet high with fried pickles. He jabbed one in my direction. “So, you need me to do a sweep of the gallery?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Just wanna be sure there’s nothing underhanded happening there. Brie was sure she saw something, but shit, she’s been working herself to pieces. Plus, she doesn’t sleep but a couple of hours each night. She’s runnin’ on fumes, man.”
He chewed, contemplative. “Could be a stress hallucination. People get them before big events all the time.”
“You sound like you’ve had experience,” I said.
Wrecker shrugged. “You know my past. Been in high stress, life or death scenarios… Seen worse. Keep an eye on her, though.”
I nodded. “I’ll keep two on her.” Then I glanced down the table. Brie was animated, cheeks pink, hands slicing the air as she debated with Harper about the best Instagram filter for baby pictures.
She caught me looking, held my gaze for a long moment, then mouthed “thank you.”
I gave her a wink, heart thumping. Fuck, even stretched to the breaking point; she was the most alluring thing I’d ever seen.
The food arrived in waves, like an edible apocalypse. Pearl herself delivered two platters of her famous chicken-fried steak, mashed potatoes, and gravy so thick you could patch drywall with it. The whole table dug in, forks and knives a blur.
Halfway through the meal, Bronc raised his glass. “To the opening night of Wildbrush Gallery. May it bring as much chaos as it does culture.” The pack howled and clapped, even the human regulars getting in on it.
Brie beamed, radiant, the shadows gone for the first time in days. Fuck if I wasn’t proud to be her mate.
After dessert (bread pudding, sweet enough to stop a heart), we lingered until the place emptied out.
The girls hugged goodnight, promises flying about outfits and carpooling.
The men did their usual slap-on-the-back routine, then drifted into the night, bellies full and spirits higher than they’d been all week.
I drove Brie home in silence, her head resting on my shoulder, her hand warm in mine.