Page 66 of The Alpha's Fallen Spell
The figure doesn’t respond, just continues approaching. Something about his movement sets off alarm bells in my head, and for a split second, I feel a stirring deep inside, the faintest echo of a growl that shouldn’t be possible.
“Stay back,” I warn, my voice steadier than I feel.
He’s close enough now that I can make out his features—unremarkable, forgettable, yet somehow familiar. With a jolt, I recognize him: the man who came to the café two weeks ago, the one who triggered my paranoia with his too-careful assessment of the room.
“What do you want?” I demand, fighting the urge to flee.
He doesn’t answer, just continues forward, now only a few feet away. My body tenses, preparing for...what? I’m human now, with human reflexes, human strength. Any self-defense instincts my wolf once provided are long gone.
Just as I’m about to turn and run, the back door flies open with a bang.
“Fiona!” Alex’s voice rings out. “Where are you? Salem knocked over the coffee beans, and they’re everywhere.”
The man stops abruptly, eyes darting between me and Alex. For a moment, we’re all frozen in a tableau—me half-turnedtoward the door, the stranger caught in his advance, Alex silhouetted in the doorway.
Then, the man backs away, melting into the shadows as quickly as he appeared.
“What was that about?” Alex asks, stepping outside to join me. “Who was that guy?”
I shake my head, my heart still racing. “I don’t know. A mugger, maybe?”
Alex frowns, peering into the darkness where the man disappeared. “You okay?”
“Fine,” I say automatically, even though I’m anything but. “I thought you were throwing away the trash?”
“I did, and then I went inside. You didn’t see me?”
I sigh, a little on edge. “Obviously not. Let’s go on in.”
Back in the safety of the café, I find myself unusually jumpy, starting at small noises, checking the locks twice before heading upstairs. Alex notices but doesn’t comment, although he insists on coming with me to check my apartment before he retires to his pullout couch in the office.
“You should get a gun,” he says casually as I’m about to close my apartment door behind him.
I stare at him. “What?”
“A gun,” he repeats. “For protection. That guy looked like trouble.”
“I can’t just get a gun,” I say. “I’d need a license, training—”
Alex shrugs. “Not really. I mean, yeah, legally. But there are ways around all that if you know the right people.”
“And you do?” I ask skeptically.
“I’ve seen things,” he says, his expression darkening momentarily. “On the streets, people protect themselves however they can.”
I consider his words as I get ready for bed. A gun seems extreme, but the encounter in the alley has left me shaken. Theman seemed to be waiting, watching. This was not the random opportunism of a mugger but something more deliberate.
Could he be from the Silver Ring Organization? Has my location been compromised?
I try to dismiss the thought as paranoia, but it lingers, keeping me awake long into the night. If they found me, what would they want? To recapture me? To study what happens to an artificial shifter who suppresses her wolf?
Or something else entirely?
The next morning, while the café is still quiet, I research gun licenses online. The process seems straightforward but time-consuming, with background checks, waiting periods, and mandatory training courses. Weeks, potentially, before I’d actually have a weapon in hand.
“Everything okay?” Margo asks, appearing at my elbow with uncanny timing. “You look like you’re planning a heist or a murder. Either way, I support it, but I’d appreciate a heads-up so I can establish an alibi.”
I close the browser window quickly. “Just looking into personal security options.”
