Chapter 9 Emily
EMILY
Ifelt a rush of relief as Aunt Ophelia leaned back in the booth, her expression softer than it had been all afternoon.
She believed us. Or at least, she wanted to. That was enough.
“All right,” she said. “Let’s take a walk.”
Jason blinked. “What… like right now?”
Aunt Ophelia stood and grabbed her purse. “No time like the present.”
Jason gave me a sideways look. I gave him one back that said ‘don’t ask questions’, even though my spine had gone rigid.
We followed her out the diner and down the path behind the building, past the compost bins and the blackberry thicket, to the narrow trail that led into the woods.
I’d walked here as a kid. It always smelled like wet leaves and pine needles and that quiet, secret dirt that only grew in places where no one had built anything.
The air thickened as the canopy swallowed the light. Aunt Ophelia moved ahead of us, her steps sure on the uneven ground. Jason stayed close to my side.
At a clearing, she stopped and turned around. Her smile had vanished.
“I don’t believe you,” she said.
I blinked. “What?”
“This whole little performance,” she said. “The tomatoes. The radishes. The trailer tears. You’re lying.”
Jason stepped forward. “Aunt Ophelia—”
She raised a hand. “I hate liars.”
Her voice cut the air like a blade. Then she looked at me, eyes sharp and inhuman.
“And liars always pay the price.”
She began to shift.
Bones cracked. Fur pushed through skin. Her jaw lengthened. Her hands curled into claws. Her spine stretched, bent, and snapped into a new shape. In seconds, she towered over us, a massive gray werewolf with cold yellow eyes and teeth like polished stone.
I couldn’t move. My mind screamed run, but my body locked.
Oh my God. This is it.
I’m going to be murdered by a werewolf. All because I agreed to fake-date my ex-boyfriend.
This is how I die? Seriously?
Not skydiving. Not falling off a rooftop bar after too many espresso martinis. Not even choking on a novelty doughnut. No. I was about to become werewolf kibble in a town that didn’t even have decent Wi-Fi.
I was supposed to be living the New York City dream. Power blazer. Midtown office. Overpriced sushi and a therapist who said things like “let’s unpack that.”
Instead, I was going to die in the woods behind a diner. Fantastic.
Jason stepped in front of me.
“Don’t you dare touch her,” he said.
His voice dropped into something low and raw.
“She’s my mate.”
His body shifted in a blur. Fur. Claws. Heat. He stood taller, broader, snapping into form with a growl that shook the leaves around us. He placed himself between me and Ophelia and bared his teeth.
Ophelia’s lips pulled back in what might have been a grin. She raised one paw and bopped him on the nose. Then she shifted back—just like that—back to a linen blazer, sensible shoes, and a calm smile.
“Well,” she said, smoothing her collar. “You passed.”
Jason blinked. “What the hell was that?”
“A test,” she said. “Werewolves always shift to protect their mate. I had to be sure this wasn’t some fake-dating nonsense. Looks like it’s real.”
I dropped to the grass and let out a long breath. Jason stayed in wolf form a moment longer before shifting back, confused and still breathing hard.
Aunt Ophelia looked between us. “I’m hungry,” she said. “Let’s get some food.”
She turned and headed back toward the diner like none of it had happened. Jason looked at me. I looked at him.
We followed. Neither of us said a word.