Page 81 of Freed By the Witchbone Knife

“That’s fine. If needed, authorities can always tap into phone records. What about witnesses to the coffee shop incident?”

“The barista. Iris. She saw some of it.” Though how much, I wasn’t sure. Axel had intervened before things escalated further.

“I saw the rest,” Axel growled.

Reyes nodded slowly. “All right. We’ll pass this information along to the sheriff’s department. Deputy Holt should be here shortly.” She glanced at Axel, who hadn’t stopped glaring at my ransacked office. “In the meantime, I’m going to ask everyone to step back from the doorway. We need to preserve the scene.”

We retreated a few feet down the corridor. Axel’s hand never left my body.

“This is bloody ridiculous,” he muttered, low enough that only I could hear. “They’re not going to find anything. Blackthorn’s a witch. He’s too smart to leave prints or any kind of trail.”

“I know.” My voice was hollow. “But… I have to do something. He’s taken things too far.”

His fingers flexed against my hip. “When we find him⁠—“

“Axel.” I turned to meet his eyes. The honey color was bleeding into yellow, his wolf pushing close to the surface. “Not here. Not now.”

He held my gaze for a long moment, then exhaled slowly. The yellow receded. “Fine. But this isn’t over.”

I didn’t argue. I didn’t have the energy.

Deputy Holt arrived twenty minutes later—a tall, weathered man in his fifties with a salt-and-pepper mustache and the unhurried manner of someone who’d seen plenty in his years. He introduced himself, shook my hand, and spent a few minutes surveying the damage before pulling out a voice recorder.

“Mind if I record this? Easier than notes.”

“That’s fine.”

He walked me through everything again—my history with Ambrose, the harassment, the previous incidents. Axel stood like a sentinel beside me, occasionally interjecting details I’d forgotten or downplayed. Deputy Holt took it all in with a calm, measured expression that gave nothing away.

“And this Blackthorn,” Holt said eventually. “He’s not from around here?”

“Walton. Like me.”

“You know where he’s staying locally?”

“No.” The admission made my stomach clench. He could be anywhere. Watching. Waiting.

Holt nodded, making a note. “We’ll see what we can find. In the meantime, I’d recommend documenting any future contact—screenshots, recordings if legal, witnesses. The more evidence you can gather, the stronger a case we can build.”

“What about a restraining order?” Axel demanded. The only good that would do was draw attention to him with human authorities. But…it was worth a shot. Especially since Ambrose’s family was the upper echelon of supernatural society.

“She can certainly file for one.” Holt fiddled with his recorder. “I’d recommend it, actually. Won’t stop someone determined, but it gives us more legal tools if he violates it.” Holt’s gaze was steady on mine. “Do you have somewhere safe to stay, Professor Miller? Somewhere he doesn’t know about?”

“She’s staying with me,” Axel said before I could answer. “My property is secure.”

Something flickered in Holt’s expression—curiosity, maybe, or recognition. Small town. Everyone probably knew the reclusive man who lived in the mountains. But he didn’t comment.

“Good. That’s good.” He tucked his recorder away. “I’m going to have my team dust for prints, take some photos. Probably be a few hours before we’re done processing the scene. I’ll give you a call when you can access your office again—likely tomorrow morning at the earliest.”

“What about my things? I have assignments in there. Materials for my afternoon lectures.”

Holt considered this. “Tell you what. Once we’ve documented everything, I can have Officer Reyes escort you in to grab essential items. But it’ll need to be supervised, and you’ll need to tell us exactly what you’re taking.”

“Thank you.” It wasn’t much, but it was something.

“We’ll be in touch, Professor Miller.” He handed me a card. “Case number’s on the back. Call me if anything else happens. Anything at all.”

Axel’s hand found mine as we watched Holt head into my office. His grip was warm and grounding, thawing my icy fingers.