What’s even worse is, I know this werewolf.
My grocery bags slip from my fingers, adrenaline stealing all the strength from every corner of my body and dumping it into my legs.
Run.
Abandoning my shopping, I sprint down a side alley.
“Wait!” I hear called out behind me.
I ignore the command and keep running.
As I turn down random streets, picking my directions in the moment, I try to think. Try to plan.
But panic clouds my mind, and instead of coming up with what I should do, I can’t help thinking about what I should’ve done.
I should’ve left the country.
I should’ve worn sneakers every day instead of these flimsy flats.
I should’ve dyed my red hair black.
I should’ve had another backup plan, is the last berating thought before I find myself at a dead end, sandwiched between two buildings and a privacy fence.
Too late for plans now.
When I whirl around, the wolf is there.
Of course he is. Even if I had years to train, I could never outrun a werewolf.
The only thing that keeps me from screaming in frustrated rage is that I’m not face-to-face with Cory.
No, just one of his pack members.
The guy watches me, and even as I brace to fight him off, a corner of my mind picks up the strange fact that my cloth grocery bags are slung over his shoulders.
Once I meet his eyes, he offers a smile.
I want to vomit.
Yeah, I bet he’s happy. Cory has probably been on a rampage to find me since he discovered the house abandoned. No doubt he’d have the whole pack hunting me if he were the leader.
The wolf facing me makes a gesture. Like a salute.
“Hello,” he says, his voice gentle. Almost curious.
I swallow, trying my hardest to come up with a way out of this.
Will talking to him help me in any way? Could I convince him to forget he ever saw me?
Unlikely, but possible. More so than fighting him off.
With my throat so tight that I think I might choke, I eke out a quick, “Hi.”
His eyes focus on my lips. “Did you work at the Bear Valley Library?”
As he speaks, there’s a slight roundness to his words, and he moves his hands in specific gestures. A piece of half-forgotten knowledge rises from my memory to attach to the movements.
One of the werewolves in Cory’s pack was deaf.
