Page 24 of Anders
She blinked slowly, her gaze focusing on his face.Recognition dawned, followed immediately by something that made Anders’s instincts flare: fear.
Etta jerked away from his touch, scrambling backward until her spine hit the shelving unit.Old newspapers cascaded around her as the unit shook with the impact.
Stay away,she gasped, her voice raw.
Anders remained where he was, keeping his posture nonthreatening while his mind raced through possibilities.
You had a seizure,he said evenly.You called out for me.
Confusion flickered across her face.I… What?
You screamed my name,Anders explained, noting the way her pupils dilated as he spoke.I was outside.I heard you and came to help.
Etta’s gaze darted around the basement, taking in the scattered papers, the overturned chair, the trash can she’d apparently been sick in.Her fingers trembled as she pushed her hair back from her face.
I remember…,she began, then winced, pressing her palms against her temples.My head…
Anders’s instinct was to move closer, to offer comfort, but he held himself in check.What happened?
She looked at him, really looked at him, and for a moment Anders thought she might actually tell him the truth.Then her expression shuttered, walls slamming into place.
Migraine,she said flatly.I get them sometimes.Bad ones.
Anders could smell the falsehood, could see it in the way she wouldn’t quite meet his eyes.
He’d been trained to detect lies, to read microexpressions and physiological tells—added to his wolf’s instincts, the training allowed him to almost always tell when someone was attempting to lie to him.
Everything about Etta’s posture, her scent, her voice, screamed deception.
That wasn’t a migraine,he said carefully.
What would you know about it?Etta snapped, the fear in her scent intensifying.You’re not a doctor.
Anders studied her, noting the defensive posture, the way her hands kept straying to the back of her neck where that strange mark lay hidden beneath her hair.His mind clicked through the evidence, assembling it into a new, disturbing pattern.
The surveillance devices he’d found around town.Her systematic interviews with pack leadership.The way she documented their behaviors while appearing unaware of her own shifter nature.
Either she was the most deeply embedded sleeper agent he’d ever encountered, or she was playing some kind of long game.
The realization hit him, left him reeling.This had been staged—probably all of it.
From her apparentunknowingshifter behaviors to this convenientseizurejust when he was nearby.She’d even called his name, for God’s sake.The perfect way to draw him in, to make him emotionally compromised.
And it had worked.His wolf had responded to her distress signal like the lovesick fool it was, ignoring all his careful precautions and surveillance protocols.
What were you looking for down here?Anders asked, his voice cooling several degrees.
Etta’s eyes narrowed at his tone shift.Old newspaper archives.That’s what newspaper people do—research.
Research what, specifically?
I’m not in the habit of explaining my work to security consultants.She used the cover title he’d given her—but her gaze flicked to the nearby documents, and Anders followed it.
The article visible on top was about local legends of shape-shifters.
Well.That was certainly convenient.
Anders’s jaw tightened.You know, it’s interesting that you’d have such a severe episode right when you were researching local folklore.
