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“I guess that’s fair.” Graham still carried a critical, disappointed tone.
Jude moved toward the pack sector, swapping bags between hands to try to minimize the strain. It might have been annoying, carrying these bags so far, but it was a million times better than getting stuck in traffic.
All around him, a soundtrack of traffic played. Long, deep horns pushed down out of frustration… short, quick horns meant to send a message or a nudge. This was something he hated about living in the city. To a shifter, whose senses were enhanced and needed to be controlled and focused, these noises were overwhelming. It was like having a flashlight shining in your eyes when hungover.
“If we’re going to protect this girl from the city, we have to reconsider our approach. Don’t you think?” Jude asked.
“I don’t know.” Graham sighed. “I kind of wonder what the hell happened to make her so afraid. We’re supposed to be kin.”
“No idea.” Jude shrugged. “But she shouldn’t be walking the streets alone with no pack to speak of.” Jude thought for a second. “Wait. What if she’s just visiting?”
“No,” Graham said with finality. “She’s not.”
“How do you know?” Jude wondered what his alpha knew that he didn’t. “She had a travel bag.”
Graham paused, clearly trying to figure out how to phrase it. “Call it a gut feeling,” Graham finally admitted. “This girl is special. We have to keep looking.”
Chapter 6
Delilah
Delilahranuntilshewas sure she’d shaken both of the shifters. Why were there so many of them? Delilah was beginning to think maybe this city had its own pack. She crept into a small cafe, looking in all directions before sidling inside. Sniffing the air, she could scent no nearby shifters. Whenever she met somebody new from now on, she was going to smell themfirst.
Maybe she should have given the shifters a chance and really gotten to know them, but she couldn’t help associating shifters with her confinement and near enslavement such a short time ago. Suppose they knew her pack, or the pack she was being sold to, and tried to return her to be captured and sold off?
“Can I get you a seat?” came a friendly voice.
Delilah looked uneasily out the front window, making sure she wasn’t being followed. A waitress with braided brown hair, a lean physique, and a pair of emerald slippers approached her at the front of the restaurant. At first, Delilah wanted to tell her no thanks, but all that running and the late time of day had made her very hungry. And it wasn’t as though she couldn’t afford a meal.
Delilah smiled at the waitress and nodded politely. The woman sat her down at a booth, getting her a menu.
“Do you know what you want to drink?” she asked. “Or do you need a minute?”
Delilah told her that she needed a second to think. The woman told her to take her time and vanished behind the swinging cafe door. At this time of day, Delilah was the only one in there. Looking around the space reminded her of what felt like another life, even though she hadn’t been gone long.
She admired the fifties diner aesthetic. Keeping white tiles polished like this took a lot of work, but looking down, she could see the sun bouncing off the floor, giving her a small glimpse of her own reflection. She loved the red dining booths and bar stools that had kept the integrity of their leather upholstery.
“Have you thought of what you’d like to drink?”
Delilah had gotten so taken with the cafe she had lost track of time. “Erm… What do you recommend?”
The waitress sized her up, looking from her falsely chipper demeanor to the sweat on her brow. Delilah felt truly seen, but being held up to such scrutiny was also a little uncomfortable.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” the waitress asked.
Delilah laughed nervously. “You caught me.”
“I could tell,” the waitress nodded. “Most folks in this city have a way about them. You can tell by the way they carry themselves.”
“What do you mean?” Delilah didn’t want to seem like an outsider. If she was going to make a living here, no matter how temporary, she needed to blend in.
“Well… life is so fast-paced, people tend to know where they’re going, for one,” the waitress said. “They don’t usually stumble in off the street for no reason without knowing what they’re looking for.”
Delilah listened. This woman had a knack for sizing people up. She was so good at noticing little details. If Delilah had sensed anything on her, she might have suspected she was a shifter.
“You look like you’re running away from something, quite literally,” the waitress added. “So let me ask, what brings you to the city?”
“Just visiting.” Delilah smiled.
