Page 19 of Anders
Etta blinked at the words on her screen.She hadn’t meant to write that.Just like she hadn’t meant to fill three pages of her notebook with similar observations about Malcolm and Larissa’s synchronized movements during their interview, or the way the Stewart twins seemed to communicate without speaking.
Not entirely uncommon for twins, she reminded herself.
She minimized the document but not before noting she’d somehow typed another paragraph:Community members demonstrate pack-like social behaviors.Defer to M & L despite lack of official authority.Clear hierarchy exists beyond surface-level business relationships.
Pack-like?she muttered.Where the hell did that come from?
Shaking her head, she pulled out her interview notes, spreading them across her desk.She needed to focus on actual reporting, not whatever weird compulsion kept making her document the townspeople’s behaviors like some kind of fucked-up anthropologist.
But as she reviewed her notes, those odd details jumped out at her again.
From her interview with Malcolm and Larissa:Ranching association handles territory disputes.Established boundaries must be respected.
She’d underlinedterritorythree times, though she couldn’t remember doing it.
From Nick and Sarah:Community makes decisions as a whole.Important matters brought before c—
The word was scratched out, replaced withtown leaders.
She flipped through more pages.The Stewart twins had talked aboutperimeter maintenancerather than fence repair.Una had mentionedtraining the young onesinstead ofteaching the children.
A headache started building behind her eyes as she tried to make sense of it all.Theranchersseemed to own vast tracts of land, but she’d seen surprisingly few cattle during her drives around the area.Their conversations about livestock were always vague, redirected to other topics.
Her gaze fell on her most recent notes about a local interviewee, an older resident named Raymond Gonzales who’d mentionedmy mate, Stephaniebefore laughing off the comment asan old man’s wandering mind.
But Etta had noted he didn’t seem to be losing his mind at all:Demonstrates enhanced sensory awareness.Detected approaching visitors before door opened.Tracked movement through walls.
Etta frowned.That couldn’t be right.She didn’t remember writing that, and anyway, it was impossible.People couldn’t track movement through walls.
Just like they couldn’t smell someone approaching, or hear conversations from impossibly far away, or…
She pressed her fingers to her temples as images flashed through her mind: Eyes reflecting green in her headlights that first night.The howls that had made her body vibratewith some primal recognition.The way everyone in town seemed to move with that same animalistic grace.
The way she’d started moving like that too, she realized with a jolt.
Her hand was writing again, seemingly of its own volition:Community exhibits characteristics consistent with—
A sharp pain lanced through her head, and the pen clattered from her suddenly numb fingers.The rest of that thought slipped away like smoke.
When her vision cleared, she found herself staring at her notebook.The margins were filled with sketches she didn’t remember drawing—detailed maps of local patrol routes (when did I start thinking of them as patrol routes?), diagrams of social interactions, endless notes about scent markers and territory boundaries.
This is insane,she whispered.
But she couldn’t stop turning pages, couldn’t stop noting how many times she’d writtenpackwhen she meant to writecommunity,how many references she’d made to scent and sound and movement patterns that humans shouldn’t be able to detect.
Her gaze caught on one particular passage:A.Hamilton demonstrates all classic indicators of alpha potential.Natural authority.Enhanced strength.Protective instincts.Mate-bond compatibility—
Etta slammed the notebook shut, her heart pounding.She hadn’t written that.She couldn’t have written that.
What the actual fuck did that even mean?
But deep inside, in that wild place that seemed to be growing stronger every day, something resonated with those words.Something that recognized the truth in them, that wanted to bare her throat to Anders and…
No.She shoved away from her desk, pacing the small office.
She was a journalist, for heaven’s sake.She dealt in facts, in verifiable information.Not in…whatever the hell this was.
Her reflection caught her gaze in the window, and she froze.For just a moment, her eyes seemed to flash gold in the afternoon light.
