Chapter 14 - Connor
I make it three steps off her porch before the scent hits me.
Human. Male. The same one I caught in the woods near that campsite with Dylan.
I freeze with one foot on the bottom step and pull the evening breeze into my lungs. The smell is faint but unmistakable. A man’s sweat and cheap cologne and something else underneath. Something that makes my wolf snarl.
He’s been here. Recently.
I inspect the perimeter of Fern’s cottage, searching for any sign of movement in the shadows. The street is quiet. A few houses down, someone’s porch light flickers on. A dog barks in the distance. Nothing unusual. Nothing that should set off every alarm in my head.
But the scent doesn’t lie.
I circle the cottage once, then twice, before I check behind the bushes and along the tree line at the edge of her property. The smell grows stronger near her bedroom window and then fades as I move toward the front of the house. He stood here. Watching. Waiting.
My hands curl into fists at my sides.
I should go. That’s what she wants. That’s what I told myself when I walked out her front door thirty seconds ago, and that’s what I told myself two nights ago when I left her sleeping in the forest.
Both times, I was running from something I didn’t know how to face.
The truth is, I don’t know how to be around her without wanting to consume her.
The bond between us tugs so hard, and everything inside me feels the need to claim her, protect her, and never let her out of my sight.
But she doesn’t want that. She made it clear just now, sitting in her armchair with her coffee and her fury and her walls built so high I couldn’t see over them.
I hurt her. I know I did. And I don’t know how to fix it.
When I woke up beside her in that clearing two nights ago, the bond was so overwhelming I could barely breathe.
She was curled against me with her hair spread across the moss and her breath warm on my chest, and every part of me wanted to wake her with my mouth on her skin.
To take her again right there in the morning light.
To mark her so thoroughly that no one would ever question who she belonged to.
And that need terrified me.
So I ran. I told myself I was giving her space. Giving her time to work through what happened between us without me hovering over her. But the truth is, I was a coward. I didn’t know how to face her in the daylight and see regret in her eyes.
I didn’t go far, though. I’ve been watching her from a distance ever since. Making sure no threats get close and that she’s safe, even if she doesn’t know I’m there.
She thinks I abandoned her. She thinks I took what I wanted and disappeared.
Maybe that’s exactly what I deserve her to think.
But I also can’t leave her alone with a predator circling her home.
I climb back up the porch steps and knock on her door.
Silence. Then footsteps, and the door swings open, and Fern stares at me with red-rimmed eyes and a scowl that could curdle milk.
“What now? I thought you ran away again.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Just like you did in the woods.”
The accusation lands exactly where she aimed it. I deserved that. I deserve worse.
“I need to tell you something.”
“You’ve said plenty already.”
I glance over my shoulder at the quiet street. “Can I come back in? Just for a minute.”
She squints at my face for a long moment, and I watch the war play out behind her eyes. Part of her wants to slam the door in my face, but part of her is curious despite herself.
Finally, she steps aside.
I move past her into the small living room. The coffee cups are still on the table where we left them. The armchair where she sat still bears the imprint of her body. Everything looks exactly the same as it did five minutes ago, but the air feels different now.
“Well?” Fern closes the door and leans against it with her arms still crossed. “What’s so important that you couldn’t just leave like I asked?”
“There’s a human scent outside your cabin. I caught the same smell in the woods a few days ago near our eastern border.”
Her face goes pale. “What?”
“Someone’s been watching your place. Recently. The smell is strongest near your bedroom window.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“It’s him, Fern. Your ex. He’s found you.”
She shakes her head, but I can see the fear creeping into her eyes. “You don’t know that. It could be anyone. A neighbor, a delivery person—”
“I know what I smelled.” I take a step toward her, and she backs herself further against the door. “This wasn’t some random passerby. Someone stood outside your window long enough to leave a trail. Someone who doesn’t belong here.”
“No.” Her voice comes out thin and reedy. “No, he can’t have found me. I was so careful. I paid cash for everything and turned off my phone’s location and took back roads the whole way—”
“He’s been tracking you from the start. You know that.”
The color drains from her face. Her breathing goes shallow and fast, and her hands start to shake where they’ve clasped her own arms. I recognize the signs of a panic attack building.
I close the distance between us and take her by the shoulders. “Look at me, Fern.”
She doesn’t respond. Her eyes have gone glassy and unfocused, and her chest heaves with each rapid breath.
“Fern.” I give her a gentle shake. “You’re safe. Do you hear me? You’re safe.”
“I’m not.” The words come out between gasps. “I’ll never be safe. He always finds me. He always—”
I pull her against my chest, wrap my arms around her, and hold on tight. She fights me for a second, pushing at my shoulders and trying to twist away. But I don’t let go. I just hold her and let her struggle until the fight drains out of her and she sags against me with a broken sob.
“Listen to me,” I speak the words into her hair. “This is pack territory. Every wolf in Silvercreek would die before they let someone hurt you here. You’re one of us now, human or not.”
She trembles in my arms. I can feel her heart pounding against my chest, can smell the fear rolling off her skin. My wolf paces restlessly inside me and demands I hunt down the threat and eliminate it. But right now, she needs me here. She needs to know she’s not facing this by herself.
I would do anything to protect her. Anything. Even if she hates me for it.
“He won’t touch you,” I promise. “Not while I’m breathing.”
For a long moment, she just stands there with her face buried in my shirt and her fingers curled into the fabric.
I stroke her hair and let her breathe, waiting for the panic to pass.
The clock on her wall ticks steadily. Outside, the dog has stopped barking.
Everything is quiet except for the sound of her ragged breathing slowly evening out.
Then she pulls back.
“Don’t,” she demands, her voice now steel. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Act like you’re my savior.” She takes a step away from me, swiping at her eyes. “I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time, Connor. I survived three years with Robbie. I got myself out of New York. I made it all the way here on my own.”
“I know you did.”
“Then stop treating me like some damsel in distress.” Her chin comes up, and I see the fire returning to her eyes.
“All you’ve done since I got here is make my life miserable.
You forced me into a marriage I didn’t want.
You took me to bed and then disappeared without a word.
And now you show up at my door talking about protection like you’re some kind of hero? ”
“I’m trying to help you.”
“I don’t need your help.” She jabs a finger at my chest. “I don’t need the pack’s help. I don’t need anyone’s help. What I need is for you to leave me the hell alone.”
My wolf whines in protest, but I force myself to take a step back. Then another.
“Fine,” I relent with a nod. “If that’s what you want.”
“It is.”
“Then I’ll go.” I move toward the door, and she steps aside to let me pass. “But Fern? Lock your doors tonight. And if you see anything strange, anything at all, you call me. Not Ruby, not Skylar. Me.”
She doesn’t respond. Just stands there with her arms wrapped around herself and her eyes blazing with anger and fear in equal measure.
I open the door and step out onto the porch. I pull another breath into my lungs and search for that human scent, but it’s faded now. Carried away by the evening breeze.
He was here. I know he was.
And he’ll be back.
I turn to look at Fern one last time. She’s silhouetted in the doorway with her hand on the frame and her jaw set in a stubborn line. Even now, even furious with me, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“Goodnight, Fern.”
She closes the door without a word.
I stand on her porch for a long moment and stare at the painted wood and listen to the sound of locks clicking into place. Then I force myself to turn and walk away.