“You’re not safe here,” I said quietly.
Mason blinked. “What?”
“If the people who took them come back, this place is too exposed,” I explained.
His jaw tightened. “I can handle myself.”
“I don’t doubt that,” I said gently. “But you shouldn’t have to.”
The words surprised both of us. I turned the idea over once, twice, then decided to hell with caution.
“Come back to Pecan Pines with us,” I said.
Everyone stared. Gino’s eyebrows shot up.
Mason shook his head immediately. “I can’t?—”
“Just for a few days,” I pressed. “Until we know more. You’ll be safe there. I’ll make sure of it.”
His eyes searched my face like he was looking for a lie.
“I’ll personally keep you safe,” I added, reckless and sincere.
My wolf surged, delighted and certain.
Mason swallowed hard. “I don’t belong in a pack.”
I smiled softly. “You don’t have to belong. You just have to stay alive.”
Silence stretched. Finally, he nodded. “Okay. A few days.”
“Good,” I said. “Let’s get you somewhere safer.”
As we turned back toward the road, my wolf practically purred. Whatever this was, whatever Mason was, I wasn’t letting him out of my sight.
Chapter 2
Mason
I sat on the forest floor with my knees pulled to my chest. The wolves from Pecan Pines had spread out across the clearing, boots crunching over leaves, their low voices weaving through the trees.
At first, all they talked about was the case.
The missing packless shifters. The broken branches along the path. Whether the drag marks meant someone had fought back.
But once it became clear they were heading back to Pecan Pines to regroup, the mood shifted and conversations loosened.
Someone complained about an early shift at the mechanic shop. Another asked if the Saturday market was still happening in town.
Then they debated what they were grabbing for breakfast once they got back. Pancakes versus breakfast burritos, apparently a serious argument.
It threw me. That was a pack, I supposed. Life moving on even with tension still hanging in the air, as if nothing had really changed.
My eyes never left the man standing a distance away.
The one they called Gino had his phone pressed to his ear, pacing slowly near the tree line. Every so often, he turned his back to the group, lowering his voice further. He had to be the one leading this operation.
From the look of things, my future was sitting in that man’s hands.
