12. Archer
ARCHER
Ipick up his scent before I see him. Wrong. Sharp. Unfamiliar. Laced with something feral and restless that doesn’t belong anywhere near Redwood Crossing.
I move through the trees silently, the forest bending around me like it knows better than to betray my presence. He’s not even trying to hide. That’s what pisses me off most. Felix Navarro stands at the treeline, looking out over the town like he’s considering whether it’s worth burning down.
I step into the open. “You’re a long way from your territory.”
He turns slowly, a smile spreading across his face like he’s been expecting me.
“Archer Kade,” he drawls. “Still playing watchdog.”
“Leave,” I say flatly.
He chuckles. “No hello? No welcome? That’s not very neighborly.”
My patience snaps thin. “You’re not a neighbor. You’re a problem.”
His eyes gleam. “Funny. I was about to say the same thing about you.”
The air between us tightens, coiled and ready to snap.
I take a step forward. “You don’t get to scout this town. You don’t get to test its defenses. And you sure as hell don’t get to linger.”
Felix tilts his head. “Or what?”
I let the shift bleed into my voice, low and dangerous. “Or you won’t make it back out.”
For a moment, silence stretches. Then he laughs. Actually laughs.
“Oh, I’m not here for the town,” he says. “Not really.”
A warning bell goes off in my head.
“Then why are you here?” I demand.
His smile sharpens.
“To see if the rumors were true.”
My fists clench. “What rumors?”
He steps closer, lowering his voice like he’s sharing a secret. “That you’ve developed a… soft spot.”
My blood runs cold.
“Tessa, right?” he continues. “Pretty little human running that bookstore.”
I move before I realize it, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and slamming him into the nearest tree.
“Say her name again,” I growl, “and I’ll rip your throat out.”
He grins through the pressure. “There it is.”
Rage floods my veins.
“Get. Out.”
His expression shifts—not fear, but calculation.
Then he raises his hands slightly. “Relax. I got what I came for.”
“And what’s that?” I snap.
“Confirmation.”
He shoves me off and straightens his shirt. “You’re compromised.”
The word hits harder than any blow.
He backs away slowly. “Protect your little human all you want. Just remember—attachments are weaknesses.”
My claws itch to tear into him. But he’s already retreating into the darkness.
“And weaknesses,” he calls over his shoulder, “get exploited.”
Then he’s gone.
I stand there long after his scent fades. Every instinct in me screams one thing: I’ve made a mistake. Not letting him in. Not trusting her. Caring. Fury coils tight in my chest. They know. Or at least they suspect. And that’s enough. Tessa is a target now.
Because of me.
“Damn it,” I mutter, turning toward town.
I should have stayed away. Should have kept my distance. Should have never let myself—
No. Doesn’t matter now. There’s only one way to fix this. Cut it off. Completely. Even if it destroys whatever’s been building between us. Even if it makes her hate me. Better that…
Than dead. I don’t go back to the garage right away. I can’t.
The anger is still riding too close to the surface, claws scraping just beneath my skin, demanding release. If I go back now, I’ll tear something apart—and it won’t fix anything.
It never does.
Instead, I circle the outer edge of town, moving fast and silent through the trees. The forest is familiar in a way nothing else is. Predictable. Honest. No secrets here. No lies. Just instinct.
I slow near the ridge overlooking Redwood Crossing, my gaze sweeping over the scattered lights below. Houses. Shops. Lives unfolding in quiet, ordinary ways. Unaware. Safe.
For now.
Felix’s words echo in my head.
You’re compromised.
My jaw tightens. He’s not wrong. That’s the problem.
I drag a hand down my face, exhaling sharply. “Idiot.”
I should have seen it sooner. The way I started showing up at the bookstore without thinking. The way I lingered. Watched. Listened. The way I noticed when she laughed. When she frowned. When she looked at me like she was trying to figure me out. That was the first mistake.
Letting it matter. Letting her matter. I stare down at the town again, my gaze snagging on the faint glow of the bookstore’s front windows.
Even from here, I can picture it clearly.
The shelves. The warm light. Tessa behind the counter, probably still moving around, still working, still refusing to slow down even after a long night.
A sharp, unwelcome pull tightens in my chest. I shut it down immediately. No. That ends now.
A branch snaps behind me. I turn instantly, every muscle going taut. But it’s not a threat.
It’s Conrad.
He steps out of the trees like he’s been there the whole time, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
“You’re making a lot of noise for someone trying to think,” he says.
I huff out a breath. “Wasn’t trying to be quiet.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
He moves closer, his gaze flicking briefly toward town before settling back on me. “I smelled another shifter earlier.”
“Rogue,” I confirm.
His posture shifts immediately. “Where?”
“Edge of town. Watching.”
Conrad’s jaw tightens. “How long?”
“Long enough.”
He studies me. “You handled it?”
“I made it clear he’s not welcome.”
“That’s not the same as gone,” Conrad points out.
“I know.”
The silence is heavy with everything unsaid.
Conrad exhales slowly. “You want to tell me what’s really going on?”
I don’t answer right away. Because I don’t want to say it out loud. Don’t want to make it real. But Conrad’s not going anywhere.
“She’s been noticed,” I finally say.
His brow furrows. “Who?”
I shoot him a look.
Understanding dawns fast. “The bookstore owner?”
“Tessa,” I snap, sharper than I mean to.
Conrad raises an eyebrow. “Right. Tessa.”
I look away, scanning the treeline like I can avoid the conversation if I don’t meet his eyes.
“Felix knew her name,” I admit.
That gets his full attention.
“Then it’s already spreading,” he says grimly.
“Yeah.”
“And you think it’s because of you.”
“It is because of me.”
Conrad exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “You don’t know that for sure.”
“I don’t need to know,” I growl. “I can see the pattern.”
He doesn’t argue that. Because he sees it too.
“Then what’s your plan?” he asks after a moment.
I don’t hesitate.
“I cut her off.”
Conrad studies me carefully. “Completely?”
“Yes.”
“No more bookstore visits. No more… hovering.”
I grit my teeth. “No more anything.”
“That’s going to raise questions,” he points out.
“Better questions than targets.”
Conrad nods slowly, considering. “You think distance will be enough?”
“It has to be.”
“And if it’s not?”
I don’t answer. Because if it’s not—
There’s only one other option. And I’m not ready to say that out loud.
By the time I make it back to the garage, the place is quiet. Too quiet. The overhead lights cast long shadows across the concrete floor, tools hanging in neat rows along the walls. It’s always been a place of control. Order.
Something I can fix. Something I understand. Unlike this. I grab a rag and start wiping down the nearest workbench, even though it’s already clean.
Busy hands. Quiet mind. Doesn’t work. Felix’s voice keeps creeping back in.
Pretty little human.
My grip tightens on the rag until my knuckles ache. If he even gets close to her again—
No. Focus. Anger won’t help her. Strategy will. I force myself to think it through. What do they know? Not much. Not yet. A name. A connection. Suspicion. That’s all. Which means I still have time to control the damage. But only if I act fast. Only if I stop giving them anything else to work with.
That means no more visible interest. No more proximity. No more—
Her. The thought lands heavy. I drop the rag onto the counter, bracing both hands against the edge. This is the part no one talks about. The part where doing the right thing feels like tearing something out of your chest and pretending you don’t need it.
I laugh under my breath.
“Great plan,” I mutter. “Real solid.”
Because it’s going to hurt. I already know that. And not just me. Tessa’s not going to understand. She’s going to push. Demand answers. Call me out. And I’m going to have to stand there and let her think the worst of me. Let her believe I’m cold. Controlling. Unpredictable. Anything—
As long as she stays alive.
I don’t realize how long I’ve been standing there until the sound of footsteps pulls me out of my thoughts. I glance up as Mason walks in, keys jingling in his hand.
“Thought I saw your truck,” he says. “Figured you’d still be here.”
“Yeah.”
He studies me for a second. “You look like hell.”
“Thanks.”
“Rough night?”
I hesitate.
Then nod. “Something like that.”
Mason leans against the workbench, crossing his arms. “You want to elaborate, or are we doing the strong silent thing?”
“Rogue crossed into territory,” I say.
That’s enough to get his attention.
“Handled?”
“For now.”
Mason’s expression darkens. “That’s not reassuring.”
“It’s not meant to be.”
He exhales slowly. “We need to loop the others in.”
“I already talked to Conrad.”
“And?”
“And we stay alert.”
Mason nods, but his gaze sharpens. “That’s not everything.”
I don’t respond.
He watches me for another beat, then sighs. “This about the bookstore?”
I go still.
“Thought so,” he mutters.
“It’s not your concern.”
“Everything that affects this town is my concern,” he counters. “Including you making decisions that could backfire.”
“I’m not making reckless decisions.”
“No?” Mason pushes off the bench, stepping closer. “Because from where I’m standing, getting attached to a human right before rogues start sniffing around looks pretty reckless.”
I meet his gaze, something dangerous flickering beneath the surface.
“I said I’m handling it.”
Mason holds up his hands slightly. “Alright. Just… don’t underestimate how fast things can escalate.”
“I don’t.”
“Good.”
He pauses, then adds more quietly, “And don’t underestimate her, either.”
That catches me off guard.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” Mason says, “humans aren’t as fragile as you think. Especially not the stubborn ones.”
A flash of Tessa arguing with me—chin lifted, eyes blazing—cuts through my mind.
I exhale sharply. “That’s exactly the problem.”
Mason huffs a quiet laugh. “Yeah. I figured.”
After he leaves, the garage falls silent again. But it’s a different kind of silence now.
Heavier. Final.
I push away from the workbench and grab my jacket, shrugging it on as I head for the door. No more delays. No more second-guessing. If I’m going to do this—
I need to do it now. Before I lose my nerve. Before I convince myself there’s another way. Because there isn’t. There’s only distance. Only cold, hard separation. Only making sure that when the rogues come back—and they will—
She’s not standing anywhere near me. I step out into the night, the cool air hitting my face like a wake-up call.
“Push her away,” I mutter to myself.
The words taste like ash. But I don’t take them back. Because if it keeps her safe—
It’s worth it. Even if she never forgives me. Even if I don’t forgive myself.