Chapter 2 #2
The lead alpha studied them both. His mouth twitched, with recognition maybe, or resignation. He had to know what the women were doing, and the fact that he was letting it happen anyway said more than his expression gave up.
"Agreed." Damien's voice left no room for argument.
"Willow and Ryker will co-chair festival coordination. You’ll both report to Faith on vendor status, to Diego on security concerns, and to me if anything needs alpha attention.
" His gaze held Ryker's for a beat. "The festival takes priority.
If you have concerns about pack security, bring them to me with evidence.
But I won't have this tension derailing our biggest event of the year. Understood?"
Evidence. That was the problem, wasn’t it? Three months of arguments about Willow and he had nothing concrete. Just instinct. And the pattern he'd seen before, the one that had cost them Ash. Damien wasn't exactly shutting him down. He was telling him to put up or shut up.
He was trapped. Refusing would look petty. He couldn't claim the job was beyond him, he'd been doing exactly this work for years. He also couldn't claim Willow was unqualified, she'd been running the bakery with competence that made Maeve's standards look casual.
Across the room, Faith caught his eye. No satisfaction there, just exhaustion and a clear message.
We're done watching you two circle each other. Sort it out.
The pack had officially grown tired of the tension. This wasn't simple matchmaking. It was a demand.
"Moving on." Diego stepped forward, and Ryker forced his attention to shift. "I’ve got a security update. We've had some unusual reports from the north shore over the past two weeks."
The room's energy changed, curiosity replacing the charged aftermath of the partnership announcement.
"Nothing concrete," Diego continued. "But enough to note. Tourists have complained about strange noises at night near the rocks. Could be seals, that’s somewhat usual this time of year.
But, one of our patrol wolves found tracks near the north cove he couldn't identify.
And yesterday a supply boat was delayed because the captain said he got confused approaching the shore.
He got turned around without meaning to and couldn't explain why. "
Murmurs rippled through the pack. Ryker straightened, security instincts engaging despite the chaos still churning in his chest.
"What kind of tracks?" he asked.
"Not human or wolf. Not any local wildlife Marcus could identify." Diego's expression was thoughtful. "Could be nothing, unusual weather patterns, tourists with overactive imaginations, or some new animal moving through. But I wanted it on record."
"The witches' cabin is near there." The voice came from somewhere in the back, carrying implication more than accusation.
Ryker watched Willow go still. Her chin lifted, her shoulders squared. She didn't offer a defense this time, just met the words with silence and steady eyes. Lily's hand moved to rest on her arm.
"We're monitoring the situation," Diego said, closing the door on speculation. "We’re not making any accusations or assumptions. Just making everyone aware of what we’ve seen. If anyone notices anything unusual near the north cove, report it. In the meantime, we’ll keep extra eyes out."
Damien nodded. "Noted. For now, the festival takes priority. Unless the situation escalates, we stay focused on what's in front of us."
The meeting wound down in the usual shuffle.
Budget updates, patrol schedules, and minor announcements.
Ryker heard maybe half of it. His attention kept drifting back to Willow no matter how many times he dragged it away, tracking her small movements.
Like the way she took notes on paper Mara had passed her, and the exposed curve of her neck where her hair had fallen aside.
When Damien called the meeting closed, pack members scattered. Ryker pushed off the wall and headed for the door, desperate for cold air and distance.
He almost made it.
"Ryker."
Her voice stopped him a few steps from freedom. He slowly turned back. She stood just behind him, close enough that her scent hit him full-force, and his whole body went tight with the effort of not reacting.
"We should coordinate," she said. "I can email you the vendor files I've compiled, and you can send me your security protocols. We could handle most of the logistics online, minimize the—" She paused, choosing her words carefully. "Minimize the disruption to both our schedules."
Email. She wanted to keep him at a distance, and reduce their contact to words on a screen. Smart. Safe. Exactly what he should want.
"No."
The word came out before he could stop it. Willow's eyebrows rose.
"No?"
"Email's not going to cut it." He made himself hold her gaze and ignore the way his blood heated with her standing this close.
"Festival coordination requires real-time decisions.
Vendor issues, schedule conflicts, security concerns, those can't wait for someone to check their inbox. We meet in person. Daily if needed."
Her chin lifted. She knew what he was doing, or thought she did.
Let her think that. Her believing it was nothing but suspicion driving him was better than the alternative.
"Fine." Her voice went cool. "Tomorrow, then. The bakery. Eight o'clock sharp."
"I'll be there."
She started to turn away, then paused. Her eyes met his, and the careful mask cracked just enough to show the exhaustion underneath. The frustration. And beneath that, something fiercer.
"I know you don't trust me," she said, voice low enough that only wolf hearing would catch it.
"I'm not asking you to. But I'm good at this work, and I won't let your issues with me tank this festival.
So if you're going to watch me like I'm about to steal the silver, at least try to be useful while you're doing it. "
She stalked past him before he could respond, close enough that her shoulder almost brushed his chest. The heat and scent of her lingered in her wake, and that darker note he couldn't stop thinking about made him want to chase after her.
Instead, he watched her rejoin her friends as Lily fell into step beside her, as the women closed ranks and headed for the door.
Cal appeared at his elbow, scarred hands shoved in his pockets.
"You're screwed," he said.
Ryker's hand found the poker chip in his pocket. "Thanks for that insightful but unnecessary analysis."
"Weeks of spending time with her on a daily basis. Constant proximity." Cal's voice held no sympathy. "You're going to lose your mind."
"Bold of you to assume I haven't already."
"And you just insisted on in-person meetings when she offered you an out." Cal shook his head. "For a man who's spent months saying she can't be trusted, you seem real eager to be in the same room with her."
Ryker watched Willow disappear into the fog. His body still thrummed with awareness, with the lingering trace of her scent and the memory of how close she'd stood. The sharp edge in her voice when she'd told him to be useful. That was the Willow he’d been looking for.
"Someone has to keep an eye on her," he said.
Cal snorted. "Sure. That's why."
The mist over the island swallowed the last glimpse of her red hair and flour-dusted sweater. Tomorrow morning, eight o'clock, he'd walk into that bakery and do the job. Watch her. Wait for her to slip up the way her mother had, the way Cara had.
She'd give him something eventually. They always did.
Three weeks to get this done once and for all. He could handle three weeks.