Page 25 of Anders
Coincidence,she said too quickly.
I don’t believe in coincidences.Anders rose slowly to his feet, keeping his movements deliberate.Not when they involve people showing up in my town asking very specific questions.Not when surveillance equipment appears shortly after their arrival.
Etta’s eyes widened.What are you talking about?
Don’t,Anders said sharply.Don’t insult my intelligence.You’ve been documenting pack behaviors since you arrived.I’ve seen your notes.
It was a calculated risk—he hadn’t actually seen her notes, but her reaction would tell him everything.
Etta’s face paled.You’ve been going through my things?
Bingo.
Why are you really here, Etta?Anders’s voice dropped lower, a hint of growl entering it.Who sent you?
No one sent me,she insisted, struggling to her feet.Her legs wobbled, and despite everything, Anders had to fight the urge to reach out and steady her.I came here for a job.A newspaper job.
The newspaper that conveniently gives you access to the entire community,Anders pointed out.Perfect cover for intelligence gathering.
Etta’s expression flickered between confusion and fear.Good.He needed her off-balance.
You’re insane,she said, edging toward the stairs.I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Anders moved, cutting off her escape route with a grace that no human could match.I think you do.
For a moment, they faced each other in the dim basement light.Anders watched the calculations run behind her eyes—the distance to the stairs, the odds of getting past him, the potential weapons within reach.
All very telling behaviors for someone claiming to be a normal human journalist.
What do you want from me?Etta finally asked, her voice quiet but steady.
The truth,Anders said.Who do you work for?What are they looking for?
I work for theSunburst Herald,she insisted.Ask Fulton Publishing if you don’t believe me.
Anders’s patience, already stretched thin by his wolf’s conflicting instincts, snapped.Enough.
He’d tried the subtle approach.He’d given her chances to come clean.But she was committed to her cover, and he was tired of playing games.
There was one surefire way to force a shifter to reveal themselves—threaten them.
No wolf, no matter how disciplined, could maintain human form when genuinely believing their life was in danger.The survival instinct was too strong.
I know what you are,Anders said softly, dangerously.I know what that mark on your neck means.
Etta’s hand flew up to cover the spot, her eyes widening.I don’t—
Let’s stop pretending,Anders cut her off.He began unbuttoning his shirt, his movements measured and deliberate.
Etta backed up until she hit the wall.What are you doing?
Showing you what I am,he said.And then you’re going to show me what you are.
He didn’t usually shift like this—without proper preparation, in a confined space, with a potential enemy present.But desperate times called for desperate measures.He needed to know, once and for all, how much of a threat Etta posed.
And only her wolf could tell him that.
Anders removed his shirt, folding it neatly and placing it on a nearby shelf.The action was automatic, ingrained discipline from years of controlled shifts.He kicked off his shoes, keeping his eyes locked on Etta’s the entire time.
