Page 40 of Forget-Me-Nots and Apricots

Dakota moves past me, his senses clearly on high alert as he scans the apartment. "The scent is strongest near the windows," he reports, moving toward the fire escape window entrance.

I follow him, my skin crawling at the thought of someone watching my home, my private sanctuary. The window looks undisturbed, but when Dakota presses his nose near the frame, his expression darkens.

"They were here. Recently. Within the last twenty-four hours." He glances at Gabriel, something unspoken passing between them. "They didn't break in, but they were definitely scoping the place out."

My arms wrap around myself instinctively. "So they know where I live, but they attacked the shop instead?"

Gabriel nods, his expression grim. "The shop was where they expected to find you. It's your routine—you're there almost every day."

"How long have they been watching me?" I whisper, the implications sending a chill down my spine.

"Hard to say," Dakota admits, moving away from the window to check the rest of the apartment. My home suddenly feels alien, tainted by the presence of someone who wishes me harm. I move away from the window, needing distance from that point of almost-intrusion.

I let a low whine of distress leave my throat and that noise was enough to set the Alpha’s off. I was suddenly enveloped in warmth as Gabriel pulled me against his chest, a low rumble emanating from him that wasn't quite a growl but something protective and primal. Dakota's posture shifted instantly, moving to check the perimeter of the apartment with renewed vigilance.

"It's okay," Gabriel murmured, his voice a soothing cadence against my ear. "You're safe now. They can't get to you."

I should have pulled away—maintained my independence, my carefully constructed walls—but the comfort of his embrace was overwhelming. His scent wrapped around me, sandalwood and apricots mingling with that distinctive Alpha musk that somehow didn't set off my usual alarms. Instead, it felt... right, in a way I wasn't prepared to examine too closely.

"Pack what you need," Gabriel said softly, reluctantly releasing me. "We won't be coming back until this case is resolved and whoever this is, is caught.”

I nodded moving away from Gabriel, turning toward my bedroom. "I'll try to be quick."

"Take your time," he said, his voice gentle. "Get everything you might need for an extended stay."

The word "extended" hung in the air between us, emphasizing the uncertainty of my situation.

I moved through my apartment with new awareness, every shadow suddenly suspicious, every corner potentially hiding secrets. My bedroom, usually my sanctuary, felt exposed and vulnerable. I pulled my suitcase from the closet, laying it open on the bed as I tried to think logically about what I would need.

Clothes were the easy part—enough for at least a week, maybe two. I selected practical items, comfortable things that would work in a makeshift flower shop. Underwear, toiletries, my favorite soap that smelled like lilacs. My heat suppressants from the bathroom cabinet, though I wasn't due for another cycle for weeks. Better safe than sorry, especially in a house full of Alphas.

As I packed, I could hear Dakota and Gabriel moving through my apartment, their low voices conferring about security measures and scent trails. Their presence should have been intrusive, but instead, I found myself oddly comforted by it. By them. I grabbed a few books from my nightstand—comfort reads that might help me feel more at home in a strange place.

My fingers brushed against the small wooden box tucked behind the novels. I hesitated, then pulled it out, running my thumb over the polished surface. Inside were the few mementos I had of my family—my mother's wedding ring, a pressed flower from my grandfather's funeral, a small photograph of the three of us standing proudly in front of the newly renovated flower shop.

I tucked the box carefully into my suitcase, nestling it between layers of clothing for protection. These tangible pieces of my past felt suddenly, vitally important.

"Vivian?" Gabriel's voice called from the doorway. "Everything okay?"

I looked up to find him watching me, concern evident in his expression as he lingered at the threshold, respecting the boundary of my personal space.

"Fine," I said, closing the suitcase with more force than necessary. "Just... processing."

Gabriel nodded, understanding in his eyes. "Take whatever you need. We can always come back if we've forgotten something, but it would be better to be thorough now."

"I'm almost done," I assured him, zipping up the main compartment of my suitcase. "Just a few more things from the bathroom."

He nodded, lingering in the doorway as I gathered the last of my toiletries. I could feel his eyes on me, watchful but not intrusive. When I returned with my arms full of shampoo bottles and face creams, he stepped forward to help, taking the items and arranging them carefully in the side pocket of my suitcase.

"Is there anything else you need?" he asked, scanning the room. "Anything sentimental or irreplaceable?"

The question caught me off guard—I hadn't expected such consideration from him. "I think I have the important things," I hesitated, glancing around the room that had been my sanctuary for so long. "Actually, there's one more thing." I moved to the windowsill where a small potted African violet sat, its purple blooms vibrant against the green leaves. "My mom started this from a cutting when I was little. I've kept it alive all these years."

Gabriel nodded, his expression softening. "Of course." He watched as I carefully wrapped the pot in a soft t-shirt before placing it in a tote bag. "Plants are important to you."

"They're constant," I explained, gently touching a leaf. "Predictable in their needs, generous with their beauty. They don't expect anything except basic care."

"Unlike people," Gabriel observed quietly.

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