Page 28 of Fat Enemy Mate

“The messages? Has something happened?” I ask again, more convinced now that he’s not telling me something again.

He puts the mug down and turns back, laying his palms flat on the counter, pausing for a moment but not looking away again.

“The rogues were on the south wards last night,” he tells me. “At least four of them. They walked the perimeter line and drained the third sensor. They didn’t push through; they just came to look. I found the tracks about an hour or so ago.”

I grip the mug tighter as I process the information.

“They’re close,” I say, aware my fingers are trembling slightly, and it’s annoying me.

“They are,” he confirms. “They know where you are; they worked out that you didn’t get off the mountain, and they’ve obviously tracked you here. The wards have held up reasonably well, but they’re not really designed for this. I’ve activated the backups so that should confuse them; they obscure the paths, so they should struggle to find their way back.”

I put the mug down and keep my hands below the table so he can’t see them shake. He seems so blasé. I don’t want to look like a fragile human.

“What are we going to do?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer immediately, which should probably tell me exactly what I need to know.

“I called Nick and Connor when I got back in,” he says, after a moment. “I told them. All of it, well, all that I understand anyway. The road is nearly clear; they’re sending a truck upfor us as soon as possible. Could be a few hours, more likely tomorrow.”

“You told them about us?” I ask and then blush furiously.

He chuckles, “Not that bit.”

I can’t bring myself to even feel relieved at that as I process what he’s telling me. “I told you I’m not going to your town, you said…”

“Lara,” he cuts in, his voice dropping lower. “The rogues are on the wards. They want you enough to come onto our territory in numbers. The cabin won’t hold a full-scale ambush, and I can’t keep you safe here. Silven Haven can protect you. We can figure out what to do next. That’s the right call.”

“That’s your call, you mean.” I retort.

“It’s the right call,” he repeats.

I stand up, shoving the chair backward, and it scrapes along the floor, but I don’t care.

“I’m not going to a town full of shifters,” I tell him, my voice going higher than I’d like. “I’ve told you that, and I haven’t changed my mind. I want to go home. I can go via the city first to disguise my trail. I’ve got a plan. And that plan is to live with humans, not a town full of shifters. I’m not going.”

“Lara…” he starts.

“I’m not going,” I repeat, sharper.

He falls silent, but I know he’s just thinking. I can see the calculating look in his eyes. Ultimately, I think he’s trying to decide if my opinion matters at all.

“You could come with me instead?” I suggest, the thought coming out of nowhere. “You could come to the city with me and then back to my home. You’ll see it’s safe.”

As soon as the words are out, I realize how it sounds, like I’m asking him to stay with me. I’m standing here after coming apart in his arms several times last night, asking him to come, what? Stay with me? Play house? I want to groan with embarrassment, but I also find myself wanting him to say yes, which is the most confusing part of all.

“I can’t do that, Lara,” he says quietly, “the rogues are on our doorstep, and I have a duty to help my pack. And you.”

“If you wanted to help me, you wouldn’t make me go to your shifter town when I don’t want to go.” I snap.

“Lara,” he growls, “I’m not going to abandon my pack, and I’m not going to abandon you to those rogues, who would track you down even if you go by the city. That’s not a plan.”

I roll my eyes; I can’t help it. “Wilf, I’ve been evading wolves all my life. I can handle myself.”

“Like you were handling things when I found you?” He huffs.

I take a step back from the island, my next retort dying on my lips because I know he’s got me there, but I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of admitting it.

“If I ask you to let me go, or drop me at the closest human town, will you?” I ask.