Page 69 of The Alpha's Fallen Spell
“Like I said,” Michael repeats slowly, “nothing that concerns you.”
“Anything that involves Fiona concerns me,” Erik growls, moving closer.
“It’s just some security equipment,” I interject, trying to defuse the sudden tension. “Michael was about to leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere until I know you’re safe,” Michael says, his posture transforming subtly into something more alert, more combat ready.
Erik moves with surprising speed, placing himself between me and Michael. “She is safe,” he says, his voice dropping to a dangerous register I recognize from our time in the forest. “With me.”
“Is that so?” Michael asks, his hand drifting toward his waistband in a movement that sets off warning bells in my head. “That’s not what I’ve heard.”
“Stop it, both of you!” I snap, stepping around the counter to face them both. “This is my café, and I decide who stays and who goes. Right now, both of you go. Out.”
“Fiona,” Erik begins, his tone gentling though his eyes never leave Michael. “You need to be careful. You don’t know—”
“I don’t need you to tell me what I need,” I cut him off. “I’ve been managing just fine on my own for over a year.”
“Have you?” Michael asks softly, his gaze assessing me now in a way that suddenly feels far too familiar. “Or have you been running from what you are?”
The question stuns me. “What did you say?”
Erik moves again, faster than should be possible, slamming Michael against the wall with enough force to rattle the nearby shelves. “Who are you?” he snarls. “Silver Ring?”
Michael laughs, a sound devoid of humor. “You think they’re the only ones interested in artificial shifters? In what happens when the wolf is suppressed?”
Horror washes over me as I realize what is going on. Michael knows what I am. Has known, perhaps, since he first started coming to the café. The incident in the alley wasn’t random—it was a test, a way to see if I still had shifter reflexes.
“Erik,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “Let him go.”
Erik hesitates. Then, positioning himself protectively in front of me, he releases Michael.
“Who are you?” I ask him, the question emerging with more calm than I feel.
Michael straightens his jacket, his demeanor having fully changed from harmless regular to something more dangerous, more calculated. “Let’s just say I represent interests that would like to understand how a shifter can function without their wolf. You’re quite the anomaly, Fiona. Or should I say, Subject Twenty-Three?”
The use of my old designation sends ice through my veins. My hand finds the edge of the counter next to me, seeking stability as the world starts to spin around me.
“Get out,” I say, each word precise and cold. “Now. Or I call the police.”
Michael smiles, all pretense of being a quiet, innocent customer gone. “We’ll be in touch,” he says, backing toward the door. “One way or another.” As he reaches the exit, he pauses. “By the way, that gun is real. Consider it a gift. You may need it sooner than you think.”
The bell chimes as he leaves, the cheerful sound incongruous with the threat he left behind.
In the sudden silence, I become acutely aware of my racing heart, of the trembling in my limbs. And beneath it all, something stirring, clawing, pushing against the walls I’ve built to contain it.
My wolf is awakening, despite everything I’ve done to keep her buried.
“Fiona.” Erik’s voice is grim in a way I haven’t heard in a long time. He turns to face me. “We need to talk.”
Chapter 12
Erik
“Fiona,” I say softly, turning to face her as the bell above the door finishes chiming. “We need to talk.”
She’s still trembling, her fingers white-knuckled on the counter’s edge. The encounter with Michael has clearly shaken her. I resist the impulse to pull her into my arms, to offer comfort she doesn’t want from me.
“He knows what I am,” she whispers, more to herself than to me. “How is that possible? I’ve been so careful.”
