Chapter 30
Wren
Grim turns into a quiet suburban neighborhood. My stomach churns as I recognize how close we are to the clinic.
“I’m nervous,” I say, adjusting the oversized sunglasses Drake gave me. The wide-brimmed hat feels awkward on my head. Do people even wear hats like this one in the car? “This feels dangerous. We’re too close to the scene of the crime.”
“The best place to hide is in plain sight,” Grim says, his voice steady despite the tension in his jaw. “They’ll never think to look for us here.”
He turns onto a pretty street, and I scan the area. Every parked car could be security. Every person walking their dog could recognize us.
I heave an internal sigh of relief every time we pass someone and the alarm isn’t sounded. I’m being silly.
Grim pulls into a driveway and parks right in front of the garage.
The house has definitely seen better days.
The paint is faded and peeling. A few shingles are missing from the roof.
At least someone’s been taking care of the yard.
The grass was recently mowed, and the flowerbeds look like they were turned, with dark soil showing where weeds have been pulled. They’re sparse but neat.
Grim cuts the engine and sits there for a moment.
“I hope he’s here,” he mutters. “Although I do have a Plan B.”
“Who is he?” I ask, looking at the house with growing curiosity. “Whose house is this?”
“Falkor.”
The name rings a bell, but I can’t quite place it. I decide to drop it because I’ll soon find out.
“Let’s go,” Grim says.
We walk up the cracked concrete path to the front door. Grim pulls off his cap and sunglasses, and I watch as his expression hardens.
I follow his lead, removing my own disguise.
Grim knocks on the door, and I hold my breath.
Nothing happens.
He knocks again, harder this time, and I find myself praying that Falkor is home. That he’ll help us.
The door swings open on the second knock, and there he is. Falkor breaks into a broad smile the moment he sees Grim, and relief floods through me. It’s the old male Grim brought in last week… or was it the week before? It’s hard to say since I see so many people on a weekly basis.
I can’t help but smile back. There’s something infectious about his joy.
“Good to see you, my boy,” Falkor says, his voice warm and welcoming. His kind eyes shift to me, and he nods respectfully. “It’s the lovely young nurse who gave me my shot. How are you? I hope you’re good.”
I nod, not trusting my voice. My throat feels tight with emotion all of a sudden.
“What brings you to my door?” Falkor asks, still grinning from ear to ear. “This is an unexpected but very welcome surprise. Come in. Come in. I’m so rude.”
My stomach drops. He doesn’t know. He hasn’t seen the news. Any second now, Grim is going to tell him the truth, and Falkor is going to slam the door in our faces. Call Draig Security. Turn us in.
I brace myself for it.
“Before we go inside,” Grim says, his voice careful, “we have a favor to ask. I have a favor to ask, and it’s a big one.” He holds Falkor’s gaze. “I won’t mind if you turn us down.”
“Anything,” Falkor says. “Just name it. Really, why don’t you come inside? I insist. We can talk about it.”
He steps back, opening the door wider in invitation.
I glance at Grim, uncertainty crawling through me. Is this a good idea?
“Okay, then,” Grim says. I look back over his shoulder.
The interior of Falkor’s house matches the exterior: worn but not quite falling apart. The wallpaper is faded and peeling at the edges. The hardwood floors are scratched and scuffed from years of use. A ceiling fan wobbles slightly as it spins, clicking with each rotation.
The windows are grimy, filtering the afternoon sunlight into something soft and hazy. I’m sure there is a ton of dust under the furniture, and the drapes could do with a good wash.
But despite the disrepair, there’s warmth here. The furniture is well-loved. Family photos line the mantel above a small fireplace. A crocheted blanket drapes over the back of the couch in cheerful colors.
It’s a real home. And suddenly I ache for my own place, for normalcy, for a life that doesn’t involve running and hiding.
There is a used coffee cup on the table, and the cushions on the sofa are rumpled. There’s a coat slung over the back of one of the chairs, and there is a pile of unopened mail on the floor next to the front door.
“Excuse the mess,” Falkor says, a hint of embarrassment coloring his voice. “It’s hard for me at my age to keep up with it all. Things just seem to pile up, you know?”
“It’s fine,” I say quickly, wanting to ease his discomfort. “Your home is lovely.”
His face lights up. “You’re very kind, dear.” He gestures toward the couch. “Please, sit. Can I get you something to drink? A tea, a coffee…or…”
“We’re good, thanks,” Grim says.
Falkor looks at me.
“I’m fine, thanks,” I tell him.
I sit on the edge of the nearest sofa, feeling tense. My hands twist together in my lap.
Grim remains standing. I watch as he takes a breath, steeling himself.
“Falkor, we need somewhere to stay,” he says. “Just for a few days.”
Falkor’s face lights up immediately. “Of course! You’re more than—”
“Don’t agree just yet,” Grim interrupts, holding up a hand. “You need to know the truth before you accept us into your home.”
My heart starts pounding. For half a second, I want to dissuade Grim from telling Falkor anything, but since it’s the right thing to do, I keep quiet.
“I’m wanted by Draig Security,” Grim says, his voice hard. “They’re saying I committed terrible crimes.”
“How terrible?” Falkor says, looking shocked.
“They’re saying I went rogue and shifted. That I killed people. That I’m dangerous,” Grim continues.
I watch Falkor’s face, waiting for the moment when understanding hits. When fear replaces that warm welcome.
But it doesn’t come.
I can’t just sit here and let Grim take all the blame. I stand quickly, moving to his side.
“They are saying those things about Grim,” I say, my voice strong with emotion.
I look Falkor directly in the eye. “Grim did shift, but he is innocent of any wrongdoing. I was there. I saw what really happened. He didn’t do any of the things they’re accusing him of. He saved my life more than once.”
Falkor looks between us, his expression thoughtful. Then, slowly, he nods.
“I believe you,” he says.
I blink, certain I’ve misheard. “You do?”
“Of course I believe you, Grim.” Falkor’s voice is steady, unwavering. “I know you’re a good male. You were nothing but helpful last week. You went above and beyond what your job required. You got me to and from the Vaccination Center.”
“I was doing my job,” Grim says.
“You came back after hours and mowed my lawn, fixed my shed door, even patched that leak in my roof.” He shakes his head, smiling.
“Then you came back on the weekend to tend to my flowerbeds. They were a disaster,” he tells me.
“My back isn’t what it used to be. You did it all outside of working hours and out of the goodness of your heart.
Those aren’t the actions of a dangerous male.
No, I refuse to believe it. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I don’t believe that you’re bad or that you did anything wrong.
” He reaches over and pats Grim on the hand.
Something warm blooms in my chest. I look at Grim, seeing him in a completely new light.
No, that’s not true. I’m not seeing him differently. I’m seeing confirmation of what I always suspected. That underneath all that gruffness, behind those walls, is someone genuinely good and kind.
“Thank you for believing in me, Falkor. It means a lot. But you need to understand,” Grim says, his voice tight, “if we stay here, it might be dangerous for you. If they find out you’re harboring us, you could get into serious trouble.”
Falkor waves a hand dismissively. “Son, I’ve led a full life.
Things have been a bit boring of late, if I’m being honest.” His eyes twinkle with mischief.
“It would be nice if things were spiced up a bit. And it would be lovely to have visitors. This old house gets pretty quiet. I’ve been very lonely ever since my Luna passed. Now you are both here.”
“I’m not sure I want to put you in harm’s way like that.” Grim shakes his head, concern written all over his face.
“Don’t you worry about that. If Draig Security comes knocking,” he continues, “I’ll just act like I didn’t know anything at all.
I’ll play the part of a slightly senile old male who can barely remember his own name.
” He taps the side of his head. “Which, to be fair, isn’t much of a stretch these days. ”
A small laugh escapes me. I can’t help it.
“Now then,” Falkor says, clapping his hands together. “Let me show you to your room. I’m sure you two will be quite comfortable.”
Your room. Singular.
Heat floods my face. “Actually, we’re not…um…together. Not like that.” I speak quickly. “We’re friends.” Friends who had sex. “Do you have separate rooms, by any chance?”
Falkor’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh! My apologies. I could have sworn I saw something between you two.” He chuckles good-naturedly. “But no problem at all. Yes, I have two spare bedrooms. They both come with an ensuite bathroom.”
I can feel Grim’s eyes on me, but I refuse to look at him. My cheeks are burning.
“Do you have space in the garage for my car? I’d prefer it if it were off the street. I’ll have to take it somewhere tonight and park it, just in case. I don’t want that vehicle tied back to you, Falkor.”
“Where will you take it?” I ask.
“I’m not sure. Somewhere busy where it won’t be noticed too easily. I’ll take it tonight. I won’t be able to go far, or I might risk getting caught. For now, it needs to be off the street.”
“Of course.” Falkor stands. “There is space in the garage next to my car. Excuse us a moment,” he tells me.
I nod. “No problem.”
They disappear down the hallway. I go over to the mantel and look at the pictures of Falkor and his wife.
There are framed photographs of their wedding.
Of Luna with an obvious pregnant bump. Then of the family of three and a large, framed photograph of a family of four.
There are pictures of the children – a boy and a girl – in various stages of their lives.
Right at the end of the mantel is a photograph of the whole extended family, including three grandchildren.
I’m smiling when they return. Grim is carrying the duffel bag.
“Let me show you to your rooms.” Falkor leads us down a narrow hallway. The carpet is threadbare in places, and I notice a water stain on the ceiling that looks like it needs attention.
He opens the first door on the left. “This one is yours, young lady.”
The room is small but charming. A single bed with a faded quilt in soft blues and greens. A dresser with a spotted mirror. Lace curtains that filter the afternoon light into something soft and dreamy.
“And this one,” Falkor says, moving to the next door, “is for you, Grim.”
I peek into Grim’s room. It’s similar to mine. The bed looks barely big enough for someone his size.
Both rooms need work. Peeling paint. Creaking floorboards. Small repairs that have been put off too long.
“You can settle in,” Falkor says cheerfully. “I’ll go make us some lunch.”
“I’ll be right there to help,” I tell him quickly. The last thing I want is for this elderly shifter to feel like he has to wait on us.
Falkor beams at me before heading back toward the kitchen, humming softly to himself.
I stand in the hallway for a moment, then turn to look into Grim’s room. He’s already unpacking the duffel bag, pulling out clothes, and setting them on the bed.
“Let me take my things out, and then you can have it,” he tells me, since I packed a few things in it for myself as well.
I make a noise of agreement.
I watch him for a moment, taking in the way his muscles flex beneath his shirt. The concentration on his face. The careful way he handles even the simplest tasks.
“I’ve got you all figured out, you know?” I say from the doorway.
He looks up, frowning. “What do you mean by that?”
“You’re not as gruff and unfriendly as you make out to be.” I lean against the doorframe, unable to stop the smile that spreads across my face. “Underneath that hard exterior is a big ole teddy bear.”
His neck flushes. “It’s no big deal. If someone needs help, I give it. That’s all.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
I keep watching him, and he shifts uncomfortably under my gaze. Good. Let him squirm a little.
“What?” he growls.
“Nothing.” I shake my head, but I can’t stop smiling. “You’re just full of surprises, Grim.”
He grunts and goes back to unpacking, clearly hoping I’ll take the hint and leave.
I don’t.
Because suddenly something is bothering me. Something I need to voice.
“Is it a good idea to stay here?” I ask, my smile fading. “Falkor might see the news and turn us in. I wouldn’t blame him if he did. They’re saying some horrible things and making it look believable. Even worse, he might end up getting hurt because of us.”
“We won’t get caught,” Grim says, pulling out the last of his things. “We won’t stay for long. We’ll keep moving around.”
The way he says it, so casual, makes something click in my mind.
“To more elderly folk you’ve helped over the last few months. All on your own time. You’ve probably used your own money to help them out and expected nothing in return.”
He shrugs, not meeting my eyes. “Of course I wouldn’t expect anything in return.”
My heart does this stupid flutter thing in my chest.
“You’re a good guy, Grim,” I mutter under my breath.
“I’m not.”
“Stop being so modest.” I push off the doorframe, suddenly needing to put some distance between us. “I should go help Falkor with lunch. I would appreciate it if you could put the duffel on my bed.”
He grunts, reminding me of his old self.
As I’m leaving, I pause in the doorway, looking back at him one more time.
He’s sitting on the edge of the bed now, his shoulders hunched, his head bowed. He looks tired.
I want nothing more than to go to him. To wrap my arms around him and tell him it’s going to be okay. That we’ll figure this out together.
Instead, I turn and walk down the hallway toward the kitchen.
I need to be really careful. I could fall for a guy like Grim. It would be so easy. And that almost terrifies me more than being hunted.
Grim has made it clear where we stand. Clear that we can’t be together.
I need to keep my distance from him as much as possible, which is going to be difficult, considering we’re stuck in this house together.