Chapter 4 - Connor
Nic doesn’t look up when I enter his office.
He’s bent over a stack of papers, writing something as he signs off on what looks like supply orders. The pack house is quiet this time of evening; most of the staff has gone home for dinner. I wait in the doorway until he finishes and sets down the pen.
“Close the door,” he prompts.
I do as he asks and take a seat across from his desk.
The Alpha’s office hasn’t changed much since his father held the position—same dark wood furniture, same bookshelves lined with pack records going back generations.
A map of Silvercreek territory covers one wall, marked with patrol routes and boundary lines.
The only personal addition is a framed photo of Luna on the corner of his desk, her smile bright against the forest backdrop.
“Tell me about this woman,” Nic says.
I run through the details. Fern Ramos, licensed therapist from New York.
Car sabotaged, timing belt cut within the last day or two.
Ex-boyfriend named Robbie, who broke into her apartment and threatened her two weeks ago.
She’s been running ever since, sleeping in rest stops and paying cash for everything to avoid leaving a trail.
“And you think this ex is tracking her?”
“Has to be. He knew where she’d be to sabotage the car, which means he’s been following her.”
Nic leans back in his chair and steeples his fingers. “What do you know about him? The ex?”
“Not much yet. She didn’t give me a last name, and I didn’t want to push too hard on the first conversation. She’s skittish enough as it is. I can dig deeper if you want. Run some searches, see what comes up.”
“Do it. I want to know exactly who might be showing up on our doorstep.” He pauses and studies me with those Alpha eyes that always see too much. “You seem invested in this.”
“She’s in trouble. That’s my job.”
“Your job is pack security. She’s human.”
“So?”
“So nothing. I’m just making an observation.” He picks up his pen and twirls it between his fingers. “Keep an eye on her. Make sure this ex doesn’t cause problems for the pack. If he shows up, I want to know immediately.”
“Understood.”
“And Connor?” Nic sets down the pen and fixes me with a look. “Be careful. Humans are fragile. In more ways than one.”
I know what he’s really saying. Don’t get attached. Don’t let your wolf get ideas. Don’t forget what happened the last time we trusted humans too easily. The League of Humanity attack is still fresh in everyone’s minds.
“I’ll be careful,” I assure him.
I stand to leave, but his voice stops me at the door.
“One more thing. The lottery is in three days. You’re still participating?”
My stomach knots. “Of course. It’s my duty.”
“I’m not asking about duty. I’m asking if you’re ready.”
Ready. What does that even mean? Ready to have my mate chosen by fate and a slip of paper?
Ready to bond with someone I might barely know, to tie my life to theirs for better or worse?
The lottery has worked for others in the pack—Nic and Luna, Ruby and James—but that doesn’t make it any less terrifying.
“I’m ready,” I lie.
Nic watches me for a long moment, his gaze uncomfortably perceptive. “The lottery isn’t a punishment, Connor. It’s an opportunity. My grandmother always said the magic knows what we need, even when we don’t.”
“Your grandmother also said eating raw garlic would ward off evil spirits.”
He laughs, and the sound breaks through some of the heaviness in the room. “Fair point. But she was right about Luna. And about Ruby and James. Just keep an open mind. You might be surprised by what fate has in store.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“That’s all I ask.” He waves me off. “Go. Keep an eye on our new guest, and find out what you can about this ex of hers.”
I leave his office with my head full of competing thoughts. The lottery. Fern. The nameless ex who’s been hunting her across state lines. There are too many variables, too many unknowns. I don’t like unknowns. They’re impossible to plan for, impossible to defend against.
The evening is cool as I make my way through town.
Silvercreek is settling into its nighttime rhythm—families heading home from the diner, the tavern starting to fill with the after-work crowd.
Old Mrs. Patterson waves from her porch, and I wave back.
Tom from the hardware store nods as he locks up for the night.
I exchange brief greetings without stopping to chat.
Everyone seems relaxed, content with the routine of small-town life.
None of them knows about the potential threat that followed our new therapist into town.
My feet carry me toward the eastern edge of town without any conscious decision.
The staff cottage sits at the end of a quiet street, a small house with a covered porch and a garden that Patricia maintains when there’s no tenant.
Yellow flowers line the walkway, and a wooden bench sits beneath the front window. A lamp glows from inside.
She’s home. Good.
I don’t approach. Just find a spot across the street where I can watch without being obvious about it. Pack duty, I tell myself. Keeping an eye on a potential situation. Making sure no one followed her here. Nothing personal.
Through the window, I can see Fern puttering around the small living room.
She’s changed out of the clothes she wore to the medical center and is now wearing what looks like a loose sweater and leggings.
Her hair is down now, and it splits past her shoulders, catching the lamplight.
Even from this distance, I can see how tired she looks.
The way she moves slowly, like every step takes more energy than she has.
My wolf stirs with interest, and I shove him down hard.
She pauses by the window, and for a moment, I think she’s spotted me.
But she’s just looking out at the darkening sky.
Something about the way she stands there—arms wrapped around herself, shoulders hunched—makes my chest ache.
She looks lonely. Scared. Like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, for everything to fall apart.
I recognize that feeling. Lived with it for years after my parents died.
Then she moves away and disappears deeper into the cottage just as my phone goes off in my pocket.
“Connor? It’s Joe.”
“What’s up?”
“Good news about that Honda. Found a supplier with the part in stock. Turns out they had one in the warehouse that wasn’t listed in the system. I can have it ready by tomorrow afternoon.”
Tomorrow. That’s fast. Too fast. If her car is ready, she might leave. Pack up her two suitcases, get behind the wheel, and take off down the highway. Keep running until Robbie catches up with her somewhere that doesn’t have a pack to protect her. Somewhere she’s completely alone.
“Actually,” I hear myself say, “take your time with it. The owners decided to stay in town for a while. No rush.”
“You sure? She seemed pretty anxious to get back on the road when I talked to Ruby about it yesterday.”
“I’m sure. Give it until Friday, like you originally said. Maybe run a full diagnostic while you’re at it. Check the brakes, the transmission, the whole works. Make sure everything’s in good shape before she gets back behind the wheel.”
“All right. You’re the boss. “I’ll give you a call when it’s done.”
I end the call and stare at my phone. What the hell am I doing?
Keeping her car longer than necessary, watching her cottage from across the street, lying to Nic about being ready for the lottery.
This isn’t me. I’m the guy who follows protocols, who does his duty without question, who doesn’t let personal feelings interfere with pack business.
But something about Fern Ramos has gotten under my skin, and I don’t know how to dig it out.
I tell myself it’s because the pack needs a therapist. Patricia has been complaining about the lack of mental health resources for months now, especially since the League of Humanity attack. There have been too many pack members dealing with trauma, with grief, with anger, they can’t control.
Dylan lost his brother during the attack and has been on a warpath ever since.
Skylar from the medical center still has nightmares about the night the humans breached our borders.
Others lost friends, family members, and their sense of safety.
A licensed therapist with experience in trauma could do a lot of good here.
That’s why I want her to stay. For the pack.
Not because of the way she looked at me in that break room, vulnerable and scared, but still fighting.
Not because my wolf has been restless ever since I caught her scent, and certainly not because the thought of her out there alone, with that bastard hunting her, makes me want to tear something apart with my bare hands.
For the pack. That’s all.
The lamp in her window goes out. She’s probably heading to bed, exhausted from her first day of work.
I should leave, go home, and get some sleep myself.
Tomorrow, I need to dig into this Robbie situation and figure out who he is and what resources he has.
Knowledge is power, and right now I have far too little of either.
But I stay where I am for another few minutes, watching the dark cottage, making sure no unfamiliar cars drive past. No strangers lurking in shadows. No signs that anyone followed her here.
Protecting her. Because that’s my job.
Nothing personal.
The walk home takes me past the pack house again. Through the upstairs window, I can see Nic still at his desk with Luna now sitting beside him. They’re talking, heads bent close together, and even from here I can see the way they lean into each other, like they can’t imagine being anywhere else.
The lottery brought them together. Nic was resistant at first; he told me the whole story over drinks one night.
How he never wanted the responsibility of the Alpha position, much less a mate chosen by tradition.
How Luna challenged everything he thought he knew about himself and his role in the pack, and how falling in love with her was the most terrifying and rewarding thing he’d ever done.
Maybe it could be like that for me.
Or maybe I’ll end up matched with someone who can barely stand me. Someone who sees the lottery as a burden instead of an opportunity. Someone who’ll spend the rest of our lives resenting the twist of fate that bound us together.
I shake off the thought and keep walking. Three days. In three days, the lottery will be held, and my name will be called alongside whoever fate has chosen for me. Worrying about it won’t change anything.
My cabin sits at the edge of the forest, far enough from the main pack areas to give me privacy but close enough to respond quickly if there’s trouble.
I built most of it myself over two summers, with help from James and a few other pack members.
The wood is local pine, the foundation solid stone.
It’s not fancy, but it’s mine. The one place in Silvercreek that belongs entirely to me.
Inside, I pour myself a whiskey and sink into the chair by the window. The forest stretches out beyond the glass, dark and endless. Somewhere out there, the night patrol is making its rounds, checking the borders, and making sure no threats get through.
I should be out there with them. Instead, I’m sitting here thinking about a human woman with sad eyes and too many secrets.
My phone vibrates again. Ruby this time.
How’s our new therapist settling in?
Fine. She started work today.
I know. I brought her lunch. A pause, then another message: She seems lonely.
I don’t respond to that. What would I even say? Yes, she’s lonely. Yes, I’ve noticed. Yes, it bothers me more than it should.
Another message comes through: The lottery’s in three days. You nervous?
No.
Liar.
I set down my phone and take a long sip of whiskey.
Ruby knows me too well. We grew up together, trained together, and watched each other stumble through adolescence and into adulthood.
She was the first person I told when I realized I’d never connected with anyone the way other wolves seemed to.
Never felt that pull, that recognition, that certainty that another person was meant for me.
She told me to be patient. That it would happen when it happened. That the lottery would sort everything out.
Easy for her to say. The lottery gave her James, and despite their rocky start, anyone can see how happy they are together now. The mate bond settled something in her that had always been restless. Gave her a sense of belonging she’d never had before, even within the pack.
Maybe it’ll do the same for me.
Or maybe I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering what might have been if things had gone differently.
I finish my whiskey and head to bed, but when I close my eyes, all I see is Fern standing at that window, looking out at a sky that holds no answers.
And my wolf, circling her memory like she already belongs to us.