Page 62 of The Wolf's Surrogate

Every night for a week, I took Anita into the backyard to train. And every night that she learned something new, her smile grew stronger and her stance became more confident. The danger had largely died down since the fire. Anita had received a few threatening texts, but nothing that indicated Phil knew her whereabouts.

She was safe here—but I knew that wouldn’t last forever.

Regardless of my retirement, my black ops life had followed me into retirement. Each time I turned a corner, my vigilance heightened, worry and caution surrounding my every move. Anita was showing signs of compounded stress despite our routine training.

Humans could only take so much at a time. The pressure of staying inside while trying to eat right and take care of her cat was getting to her. I knew I couldn’t keep her cooped up for very long, but I couldn’t let her wander around by herself. She had a clinic to operate that hadn’t seen her in weeks.

People were starting to get worried.

The kitchen around me felt hollow even though Anita was sitting at the table. I fixed my t-shirt as I stared at my black cotton socks. Blue jeans covered in grease stains seemed to be the only pants I owned. Anita regarded my pants with a light chuckle as though she was thinking the same thing.

“I know,” I whispered. “I should go to the store.”

Her head snapped up from the kitchen table. “I want to go to the store.”

“You can’t come with me. You might get hurt.”

“Liam, I’ve been training for a whole damn week. I can throwandtake a punch like a lady.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “We’re not flirting with danger.”

“No, but you’ll flirt with your little house pet, right?”

My arms flexed as I tightened them over my chest, irritation dripping from my glare. “You don’t have to be crass about it.”

“You don’t have to lock me up.”

“I’m not locking you up. I’m keeping you safe. There’s a difference.”

She took a deep breath and sighed with her fingers on her temples. “I have a job, Liam. I’m a vet tech. I can’t leave my job.”

“You might be operator of that place now, but they can get on without you.”

“What if I like my job?”

I shrugged. “You can go back when things are safe.”

“Only with your permission, right?”

“You don’tneedmy permission. You just need to stay out of trouble, Anita.”

She smiled bitterly. “Right. Because I’m so much trouble for you, aren’t I?”

“That’s not what I said.”

She pushed on the table to stand up, making her chair scrape the tile.

The sound grated my ears as I marched toward her. “Where are you going?”

“For a walk. Is that okay with the warden?”

“Anita, I don’t want you to—”

She brushed past me. “Just leave me alone.”

She squeaked as she sprinted through the living room. The front door squealed open and then slammed shut. Footsteps pounded the porch. Muffled cries permeated the wood, diminishing as she ran off. I closed my eyes to listen—it sounded like she was cutting through the neighborhood.

That was fine. I could text Jermaine and tell him to keep an eye out for her while she got some space. The house wasn’thuge, but it wasn’t small either, so we were stepping on each other at every turn. With the stressful vigilance and training, we were exhausted.

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