Chapter 27 You Have To Go
You Have To Go
Fenrir Thorsson
Morning light filters through the thin curtains, painting golden stripes across Astrid's sleeping form.
I've been awake for an hour. Watching her breathe. Memorizing the curve of her cheek, the dark fan of lashes against her skin. In sleep, the fierce woman looks almost peaceful, the constant vigilance melting away.
My wolf lies quiet within me, content in her presence. No ambrosia necessary. The closeness of her soothes the beast more effectively than any olympian concoction.
I feel... whole. Connected. The emptiness that's been my constant companion since losing my soul shard has eased. Not gone, but bearable now that I've found her.
Her scent surrounds me and is mingled with my own. The territorial satisfaction this brings runs deep, primal and true. My chest tightens with an unfamiliar ache that's almost painful in its intensity.
Mine, my wolf whispers. Ours.
Sharp knocking shatters the morning quiet.
My body tenses instantly, muscles coiling tight as my senses snap to full alert. My wolf surges forward, hackles raised at the intrusion. One arm moves instinctively across Astrid's body.
I inhale deeply, nostrils flaring as I sort through the unfamiliar scents seeping under the doorframe. Two males. Human.
"Mathieson! Rise and shine!"
Astrid jolts awake at the shout, her hand already reaching for the weapon on her nightstand before her eyes are fully open. Zero to combat-ready in a heartbeat.
"We brought breakfast!" A different male voice calls through the door. "Proper celebration for our return to active duty!"
My eyes narrow as I process the second voice. Their casual familiarity with Astrid grates against my instincts.
Her eyes find mine, wide with alarm. "Shit!" She scrambles out of bed, nearly tripping over the sheets. "It's Ghost and Sherlock—my partners. You have to get out of here."
"Partners?" The word comes out like a growl. These men know her, work with her, and protect her. A surge of jealousy punches through me, hot and unreasonable. I know I have no right to it, but centuries of instinct aren't so easily dismissed.
"No—not like that," she hisses, yanking open drawers and pulling out clothes. "My team. From GUIDE. The ones who've been on medical leave since the chimera mission in Rome."
"Mathieson!" The first voice again, followed by more knocking. "We know you're in there! Your car’s in the parking garage."
Astrid drags a hand through her tangled hair, panic sharpening her movements. "If they find you here..."
She doesn't finish. Doesn't need to. We both know what GUIDE would do to me. But I don’t look magickal. I look human.
"You need to go," she says, grabbing my shirt from the floor and throwing it at me. "Now."
I catch the shirt but make no move to put it on. Something primal stirs within me—a desire to be discovered here, in her bed. Let her colleagues see who she's chosen. Let them smell my scent on her skin, see the marks my mouth has left along her collarbone. "I don't run from men."
My wolf prowls beneath the surface, resistant to retreat. Show them. Let them know she is protected now.
“I’m not asking you to run. I’m asking you to hide.” She pulls on jeans with frantic efficiency. "They can’t see you. Someone will figure out who you are… what you are. Sherlock is already so suspicious. I can’t chance it."
She grabs my arm, tugging me toward the window. I stand immovable, like stone beneath her fingers. The thought of slinking away while other males enter her space feels like acid in my blood. I do not hide.
The thought of walking away, even for her protection, feels like tearing open a wound that's barely begun to heal.
"Are they..." I begin, unable to keep the possessive edge from my voice. My hands flex at my sides, claws threatening just beneath the surface of my humanity.
"Colleagues, nothing more," she cuts me off and yanks open the window, revealing the metal fire escape platform just outside. "Go. Please."
That last word. The plea in it. That's what does it. I see fear—not for herself, but for me. It strikes deeper than any weapon could. My pride means nothing if it endangers her. My territorial display is worthless if it leads to her ruin within GUIDE.
I pull on my shirt and jeans. What she needs is more important that how I feel.
"Mathieson! Did you fall asleep in the shower again? The food's getting cold!"
Before stepping through the window, I pull her to me. One hand tangles in her hair, the other at the small of her back, pressing her body against mine.
The kiss is neither gentle nor brief. It's a statement, a claim, a promise. Everything I can't say with words, I pour into this moment. The centuries of loneliness. The desperation of finding her. The terror of losing her.
I taste her deeply, thoroughly, ensuring my scent will linger on her long after I've gone. Let her colleagues catch the edge of it. She belongs to another now. My wolf rumbles with satisfaction, knowing that even as I retreat, I leave evidence of my claim for any with senses sharp enough to detect.
Her heartbeat races against my palm. Mine echoes it, reluctant to break this connection even as knuckles rap against wood again.
When I pull back, her pupils are dilated, her breath coming in quick bursts. The flush spreading across her skin is my handiwork—visible proof that will remain after I've disappeared down the fire escape. The thought curls my lips into the barest hint of a smirk.
"I'll be back tonight," I tell her. "We need to plan our next move. Those people in the warehouse can't wait."
She nods, the mention of the captives grounding her back to reality. "I'll talk to Hayes today. Make the warehouse our priority."
"Be careful," I warn, already halfway through the window. Fear for her safety claws at my insides. "The Enclave is more dangerous than you realize. They have connections everywhere."
"I know how to handle myself."
"Yes," I agree, allowing myself one last look at her—hair wild from sleep and my hands, lips swollen from my kiss, cheeks flushed. The sight burns into my memory, a talisman against the hours of separation ahead.
Mine.
"You most certainly do, Agent Mathieson."
I scale the fire escape with ease, leaping the last ten feet to the alley below. Easy landing.
From this position, I can see her bedroom window, watch as she takes a deep breath, smooths her hair, and composes herself into the formidable GUIDE agent her partners know.
The connection between us pulses like a second heartbeat beneath my skin, a painful reminder of what I'm walking away from, even temporarily.
My wolf paces. Already missing her proximity. But there's determination now rather than rage. The hollow ache of separation sits heavy in my chest, but it's different now. There's hope mixed with the pain. Purpose with the longing. She’s accepting me… us.
Now we must save the captives, expose the Enclave, and protect our mate above all else.
The hunt continues. But this time, Astrid hunts with me, not against me.