CHAPTER 37
WOLF
Ever since I found that note, more than a week ago, I’ve been wary of leaving Windy, even if she is always at the house with one of us.
Even with that necklace, she doesn’t take it off, no matter what.
When I found that note, I knew we had made the right decision to buy her a necklace.
That necklace will protect her if she gets into trouble.
With the tiny microchip tracker inside, we will always know where she is.
It doesn’t feel like enough. I feel like we need to do more to protect her. Someone is after her, and I won’t rest until I find out who and eliminate the threat.
I’m pacing Windy’s office at Carmichael Enterprises, wearing a path in the carpet near her desk.
The room around me feels too quiet, like the air is holding its breath waiting for something.
Sunlight filters through the blinds, cutting across the desk and the framed photos on the walls.
None of the familiar surroundings settle me.
My phone buzzes suddenly. I answer on instinct.
At first, only silence. Then the breathing starts. Slow. Measured. Someone is deliberately letting me hear each inhale and exhale. A low growl follows. It rumbles through the speaker. Too controlled to be an accident. Too intentional to ignore. It makes my hackles rise.
A chill crawls up my spine. “Who is this?"
The growl deepens, vibrating in my ear. It rises in volume as if whoever’s on the other end wants it to drown out my thoughts. I stop pacing. My pulse kicks hard. I force myself to stay steady.
“I don’t know who this is,” I say, each word clipped. “But whoever you are, you'd better count your days. We’re coming for you.” I take a chance, hoping I’m not wrong. “Windy will always be ours. Never yours. Deal with it.”
For a heartbeat, everything goes still. The growling cuts off. Breathing stops. The silence feels colder than the breathing and growling ever did.
Then the line disconnects.
I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at the blank screen. The quiet presses in on me, heavier than before, and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end.
Something is wrong.
Deeply wrong.
Iciness encompasses me. It’s not just fear, either. It’s recognition. Something in that growl, in the way the silence followed, feels deliberate. Targeted. That sound crawls under my skin and coils there, refusing to let go.
I don’t think. I just act. My fingers are moving before I can stop myself.
Amos picks up on the first ring, breathless, like he’s been rushing. “Yeah?”
“Is Windy good?” The words snap out of me, much sharper than I mean them to.
There’s a pause--too long for my liking. “I ... don't know. I had to run out and grab a belt for my truck. I pulled it into the garage before I left and took my bike.”
The floor seems to tilt. I don’t waste a second. I’m switching calls before I can utter another word. My pulse hammers so hard I feel faint.
Finian answers immediately. “What’s wrong?”
“Tell me how Windy is,” I say, my voice sounding like it's coming from somewhere outside my body.
“Umm ...”
Papers shuffle. A drawer slams. He’s moving fast. "I had to run out to the office and grab a client file. Amos is at home.”
It’s my worst nightmare.
“No, he’s not. He thought you were home.”
Silence drops between us. It’s thick and heavy like molasses. The kind of silence that feels too heavy to handle.
Someone is supposed to be with her.
No one is.
I close my eyes for half a second, trying to steady myself. I hang up on Finian and call Windy. Her parents gave me her number when she was in the hospital, and up until now, I haven’t had to use it. But I’m using it now.
“Pick up, pick up, pick up.” My body is a jittery mess as I wait for her to pick up.
The line clicks over. “Hello?”
“Where are you?” I ask, panicking.
“Wolf? Is that you?”
“Yeah. Where are you?” I ask again.
“I’m on my way to a book club meeting at Sip-A-Brew. Why?”
“Go back home. Now.”
She’s silent for a moment. Then ... “I don’t think so. I’m going to have a visit with my friends and eat and drink some good food and coffee.”
“Please ... go back home,” I urge her, freaking the fuck out.
Windy isn’t home.
None of us is with her.
The room seems to shrink around me, the walls pressing in. I feel like I’m in an alternate reality.
“Nothing is going to happen to me, Wolf. Calm down. I’ll be in public, surrounded by my friends. The pepper-spray incident was some punk playing a prank.”
“We don’t know that,” I argue.
“Wolf, come on now. You need to stop worrying so much. I’m fine. Everything is fine. I’m going to Sip-A-Brew to hang out with the girls. You can’t keep me locked up in my house. I’ll go crazy.”
“Better safe and crazy than dead and sane.”
She laughs softly. “And they call me dramatic. I’m hanging up now.”
Before I can get another word in, she hangs up on me.
The sharp beep slices through the line, leaving a hollow ring in my ear.
For a second, I just stare at my phone, unable to say anything.
I’m stunned. My heart thuds hard enough in my chest that I can feel it in the side of my neck.
The cloying panic nearly does me in, and before I know it, I’m calling her back.
Only she doesn’t answer. Not the second, third, or even fourth time I call. Then the call starts jumping to voicemail, her recording greeting my ears like a door slamming in my face. She’s deliberately ignoring me, shutting me out on purpose.
A curse rips out of me before I can stop it. My hand shakes hard as I back out of her contact and jab Finian’s name. He’s the closest of all of us. His office is right around the corner from Sip-A-Brew. Close enough that he can get to her in minutes.
I make a point to message Finian to have him check in on her. My nerves are wrecked, thinking about her out there without one of us. I know she can take care of herself, but it’s not just her anymore. There is Daisy to think about, and Windy is in a very delicate situation.
After a few moments, I get a text from Finian.
FIN: She’s pulling into Sip-A-Brew. She’s good.
I think about messaging him to stay there, but I know it’s a bit overboard.
Even though I want someone to have eyes on her all the time, I know it’s impractical.
Not only is it impractical, but Windy will shit kittens if we try to control where she goes or who she spends time with. It’s not fair to her.
She doesn’t know about the threat. The mysterious letter and the fact that someone deliberately burned my business down. I’d say even the person who pepper-sprayed her is somehow connected to this. It just seems too convenient.
My phone rings, each tone stretching tight across my nerves.
I pace in a tight circle, eyes darting to the street like I might somehow spot her from here.
If I can get him on the line, I can tell him exactly what’s going on, and he can go and make sure she’s okay.
There’s something about today ... I have a bad feeling.