Page 70 of Protected By Her Mate

Though she was human, I regret her death. She was kind to me in a moment of need, but it’s not her kindness I need.

I drag the woman off the street and into someone’s yard, shifting to human once we’ve been swallowed by the shadows. I quickly strip her of her uniform and pull it on. It’s tight in the chest and hips, but it’ll do what I need it to do.

Hurrying the two blocks to my safehouse, I break the lock on the garage door and make my way up to the loft. It’s exactly how I left it, several years of dust coating everything.

I keep food, water, clothes, money and several fake IDs here in case I need to leave New York quickly and can’t get back to my Manhattan apartment. My vigilance has paid off.

I remove my newly acquired police uniform and shift to my wolf, crawling into the dusty bed and setting my internal alarm clock to wake me in two hours. That should be enough time to complete the healing process.

I wake to sunlight streaming across the small attic space, warming me on the bed. I stretch my paws out, then the rest of me, assessing my injuries. Except for a few aches, I’m mostly healed. Good enough to do what I have to do.

It’ll be dangerous, but I’m not planning on coming back from this. Once I’ve destroyed Lennox’s mate, he will hunt me relentlessly. I’ve spent a century and a half watching him, studying him. He never misses. He’ll find me eventually and that’ll be the day I die.

I’ve made peace with it. Solace in the inevitability of death is about the only peace I’ve known since losing my mate. That and knowing I would one day make Lennox feel the pain I’ve felt.

I dress in the policewoman’s uniform, using a small mirror to tame my hair into a knot at the back of my neck. I look wistfully over the attic, my gaze lingering on the boxes of items I’ve spent centuries collecting. All of it is useless to me now, likely to be auctioned off when I fail to pay rent.

Taking the stairs down to the first floor of the garage, I leave the protection of my attic haven behind, stepping into a sunny street.

I jog to the nearest subway station, using my police uniform to get myself onto a train without a ticket. The agent barely glances at me as I explain that I’m tracking a perp who came this way. She lets me through the barrier without comment.

When I reach Manhattan, I switch lines, making my way steadily toward my target. It won’t be easy, but I can’t back down. By now the entire city will be looking for me. My disguise won’t hide me for long.

I leave the subway station and jog up to street level. hoping the private detective I’d hired to gather information on Lennox and Charlie is worth his exorbitant rate.

Someone tries to stop me. “Officer, I need help – ”

“Not now,” I snap, hurrying away from a shocked woman who stares after me.

I turn in a circle trying to get my bearings. I’ve become too used to modern day conveniences, like the map app on my phone. I know where I need to go, but I’m not sure of the exact location.

I’ll have to use my instincts. Closing my eyes, I breathe deeply through my nose. So many smells. Food, garbage, humans, shifters… ah, there it is.

Opening my eyes, I turn and stride swiftly toward my target. Two more blocks and I’m there, gazing up at a three-story brick building. The American flag waves in the breeze, the chink of the metal loops loud as it strikes the flagpole.

I stride up to the front doors and show my badge to the security officer who asks, “What’s your business?”

Hoping I’m right, and that Lennox’s protective instincts would extend to the child, I say, “I’m here for Luke Lopez.”

LUKE

“Luke.” When I look up, Mrs. Vingeland says, “You’re wanted in the office.”

I frown. I haven’t done anything wrong. At least nothing anyone should know about. Me and Hunter figured out how to get onto the roof and we hid a lunch pail up there with some of our comics inside. Hunter wouldn’t rat on me, so it can’t be that.

I close my reading book, Flat Stanley, and make my way to Mrs. Vingeland’s desk. I grab the hall pass she hands me. “Take your backpack. I don’t think you’re coming back today.”

My eyes widen in panic and I stare at her, unable to force myself to go to the coat room and grab my backpack. “Wha… what’s happened?” The last time I was taken out of school, my mom was waiting for me in the office. It was the day my dad was killed.

Mrs. Vingeland knows about it and rushes to reassure me, “I’m sure it’s nothing big.”

I don’t believe her though. Experience has taught me otherwise.

I head to the coat room, images from my dad’s funeral filling my mind. I was only four at the time, still in pre-K, but I remember everything. The day I realized my dad was never coming home was the worst day of my life. I keep his picture by my bed so I never forget what he looks like. In it, he’s wearing his Fireman’s dress uniform and his face is serious.

What if something happened to my mom? I feel like crying but hold in the tears. Maybe it really is nothing.

As I make my way to the office, Principal Louis rushes toward me and my heart leaps into my throat. I freeze on the spot and watch him fearfully.

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