23. Allie
Allie
T he pottery barn felt eerily quiet as I unlocked the front door, my hands steady despite the churning in my stomach.
I peered up and down the street before slipping inside, though I didn’t see anyone other than tourists who appeared busy with whatever they were doing.
I locked the door behind me with a decisive click.
The familiar scent of clay and glazes would’ve been comforting on any normal day, but knowing Will’s people were somewhere out there watching turned the space into a stage set for a dangerous play.
While I waited for Hail, I moved among the boxes of broken pottery, assessing the damage.
So many beautiful pieces destroyed. Weeks of work shattered in a galaxy of colored shards.
I knelt beside one box my new family and the tourists who’d helped clean had placed near the left wall.
Picking up a chunk of what had been a beautiful blue vase with delicate silver accents that Hail had made for the spring collection, I sighed.
The back door creaked open, and I stood, spinning, my heart thumping faster than it should until Hail appeared in the doorway, Tressa slipping in ahead of him.
“It’s just us,” he said, securing the door behind him. “But Will’s people are definitely in town. I saw two of them and let Fernandez know. They’re not being too obvious, but tourists don’t stand around watching my mate walk through town.”
“I felt eyes on me the whole way here.” I set the broken vase piece on the workbench.
Hail crossed to me in three long strides and gently cupped my face. His jaw tightened. “It’ll be alright.” He gave me a quick kiss before backing away.
Her paws covered with leather boots to protect them, Tressa circled the room, her nose to the ground, her white fur gleaming in the sunlight.
She sniffed at the threshold, her hackles rising before she returned to my side.
The wolf was nearly thigh-high on me, her muscled body warm against my leg.
Her amber eyes scanned the room, her ears swiveling to catch any sound.
“She smells something she doesn’t like,” I said, rubbing between her ears.
“The ones who broke in the other night, perhaps.” Hail knelt beside her, his voice dropping to a rumble as he spoke. “Keep an eye on our Allie, alright?”
Tressa yipped, her amber eyes fixed on me with solemn devotion.
“Now we wait for them to make a move.” I grabbed a broom from the corner, needing to do something with my hands. “Should I start cleaning this mess, or would that look too normal?”
“Normal is exactly what we want.” Hail moved to help me, lifting a full box onto a workspace.
He’d put things back on the shelves. We’d lost nearly three-quarters of our inventory, but it could be replaced with time.
“According to the plan, you’re b-b-back to your life, thinking the danger ha-has passed. ”
I swept around the edges of the room, gathering broken clay into piles. The broom bristles made a soft scratching sound on the wooden floor, oddly soothing in the tense atmosphere.
Hail continued emptying the box for a moment before turning to lean against the workbench. “I’ll go see what’s left of the kiln, find out if it can be salvaged or if I need to order a new one.”
I nodded, remembering the layout. The kiln shed was small but well-ventilated, connected to the main building by a short hallway. Close enough that he could hear me if I called.
“Remember, my brothers are near and armed, but I’ll leave the connecting door open. One shout, and I’ll be right here.”
“Ready to rip the world apart to protect me?” I teased, though my voice wasn’t steady.
His eyes met mine, gold flecks burning in the dark depths. “Without hesitation.”
The simple certainty in his voice stole my breath. No stuttering. Just absolute truth.
“We’ve got this.” I stepped closer, touching his arm. “The trap is set, and Will doesn’t know what’s coming.”
His warm palms on my hips, he pressed his forehead against mine. “Be careful, pretty mate.”
“You too, cowboy.”
With a final lingering look, he headed toward the back, Tressa watching him go before settling herself near my feet with a soft huff.
I patted her head. “Let’s start making this place look like a pottery barn again, shall we?”
She’d been my constant shadow since we met, and now her presence was a comfort I was grateful to have nearby. No one and nothing would get past this wolf.
I began sorting through the boxes, separating salvageable pieces from those beyond repair. To my surprise and relief, many pieces had survived the destruction intact.
“Look at this one, Tressa.” I lifted a small bowl glazed in deep forest green with gold speckles. “Not even a chip.”
The wolf padded over, sniffing the piece before looking up at me with what seemed like approval.
I set the bowl on a shelf, then bent to retrieve a set of matching mugs, their handles miraculously intact.
Hail told me he’d made these last month, the clay mixed with fine sand to create a speckled texture beneath the glaze that caught the light when turned.
Each had a slightly different pattern of blues and greens swirling together like miniature oceans captured in clay.
“The tourists are going to love these.” I carefully arranged them on a high shelf, though we didn’t have much intact shelving left. “Vacation souvenirs that’ll hold their favorite tea or morning coffee.”
Tressa’s paws thudded on the wooden floor as she followed me around the room, sometimes coming so close that I nearly tripped over her. She’d pause to investigate a particular pile of debris, sniffing before moving on, her tail swishing behind her.
“Personal space, Tressa,” I said, stepping around her to reach a fallen display. “I know you’re protecting me, but I can’t clean if I can’t move.”
She gave me a look that clearly said protection took precedence over tidiness but shifted slightly to give me more room to work.
I continued my cleanup, feeling a small thrill of victory with each unbroken piece I found.
A tall, slender vase with a delicate neck that Hail had decorated with flowing abstract patterns in copper and turquoise.
A set of small plates with leaf impressions pressed into their centers before being glazed in warm amber.
A whimsical tea set with spouts shaped like dragon heads, their glazed scales shimmering in shades of purple and silver.
The pottery represented months of work, hours of careful crafting and firing and glazing. Each piece held a bit of Hail’s soul, his patience and creativity captured in clay and fire. Seeing so many survive the destruction felt like a small victory against Will and his thugs.
I moved to a corner where a display case had fallen, carefully lifting it upright again.
Beneath it lay an intact collection of miniature animal figurines, Hail’s special project for children who visited the barn.
Tiny sorhoxes and chumbles, wolves and rabbits, each small enough to fit in a child’s palm but detailed enough to capture the essence of the animal.
“Look, Tressa, your little clay cousin survived.” I held up a wolf figurine, its pose alert and watchful, remarkably similar to my furry companion’s current stance.
Tressa sniffed at it, then gave my hand a lick.
I carefully wrapped and placed the collection in a box to be put out later, remembering how Hail’s face lit up when young visitors marveled at his creations. For all his size and strength, he had the gentlest touch with both clay and children.
The floor gradually emerged from beneath the debris as I worked, the scattered destruction transforming back into something resembling order.
The familiar scents of clay and glazes mingled with the sharper smell of broken pottery dust, creating an atmosphere that was both comforting and slightly off-kilter.
Sunlight shifted through the windows as the morning progressed, painting golden paths across the wooden floor. The barn creaked and settled around us, the timbers warming in the day’s heat.
Tressa’s bed in the corner had somehow escaped the destruction, the thick blanket still neatly folded where she liked to curl up during pottery lessons. I straightened it out of habit, though I knew she’d rearrange it to her liking before settling.
For a moment, the normalcy of the task made me forget why we were really here, that this peaceful scene was bait in a trap, that somewhere outside these walls, Will’s people were watching, waiting to try to grab me.
I stepped back to assess my progress, brushing pottery dust from my hands. The main floor was mostly clear now, the salvageable pieces arranged on shelves and tables. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
“Hey, Hail?” I called toward the back door. “I think I’ve got the main area decent now. Want to see how it looks?”
No answer came from the kiln room.
“Hail?” I called again, a little louder. “You back there?”
Silence.
Worry pricked along my spine. He’d said he’d check in every fifteen minutes, and it had been at least twenty since I’d last heard from him.
“Come on, Tressa. Let’s go see what he’s up to.” His head was probably buried inside the kiln, and he couldn’t hear me.
She padded beside me as we moved toward the back door. The connecting hallway was dim after the bright main room.
“Hail?” My voice echoed in the narrow space. “You still working on the kiln?”
The kiln room door stood ajar, but no sounds of work came from inside.
My heart rate kicked up a notch. I pushed the door wider, Tressa slipping through ahead of me, her nose working overtime.
The kiln room was empty. The back door had been cracked open. Tools lay scattered across the workbench, a bag of fire clay open beside them. Hail’s leather work gloves were there too, lying on the floor as if he’d been interrupted.
“Hail?” A touch of panic edged into my voice now. “Are you here?”
Tressa growled, moving toward the exterior door that led directly outside, poking her nose through the gap. Hail wouldn’t have left it open.
My hands trembled as I scanned the room, looking for any sign of my mate.
A piece of paper caught my eye, pinned under a pottery shard on the workbench mounted along the right wall.
I snatched it up, my blood turning to ice water in my veins as I read:
The orc is alive for now. If you want him to stay that way, come alone to the location marked on the map below. You have 45 minutes. Every minute you’re late costs him a finger. Tell anyone, and he dies screaming.
—Will
Below the message, I studied the crude map showing a location in the foothills north of town, with an X marking the spot.
The paper shook in my hands. This wasn’t supposed to happen. It wasn’t part of the plan. Hail had been taken right from under my nose while I swept broken pottery and daydreamed about rebuilding.
“No.” My voice cracked. “This can’t be happening.”
Tressa pressed against my legs, whining, her eyes fixed on the note in my hands. Her ears flattened against her skull, and a rumble built in her chest, her distress matching the tightness in my own throat.
I checked my phone. It couldn’t have been long. If Will’s people had taken Hail in the last twenty minutes, I had maybe half an hour left.
My first instinct was to call Dungar, to alert Detective Fernandez and get the whole team mobilized. But Will's warning echoed in my mind. Tell anyone, and he dies screaming. They'd be watching for exactly that kind of response. I couldn't risk it. Not with Hail's life hanging in the balance.
Half an hour to find him.
Half an hour before they started cutting pieces off the male I loved.