“I stopped for something to eat on my way home, and she walked into the same diner. Before her scent even reached me, I knew she was the one.”
I could hear Mom sniffle.
“When will we get to meet her?” Dad asked.
“That may be a while yet.” I sighed. “She’s human, Mom, and running just like you did. Only it’s not from humans. One of our kind found her and kept her prisoner, and we just learned he shifted and killed her stepfather in public.”
The silence was heavy, and I knew Dad was probably conferring with Winifred via their link.
“She’s beautiful, Mom, and strong. She’s nineteen. The mutt who had her also kept her little brothers locked away. They are five and four and just starting to laugh and trust us. We’re treading carefully and not pushing for more information than she’s ready to give. That’s why I didn’t tell you right away. And why we might not be visiting for a while.”
“Emmitt, your first priority will be to your Mate. But don’t forget the safety of the pack. The fact that someone’s out there breaking rules and not reporting their infractions according to law is—”
“Unthinkable,” Dad finished for her.
And it truly was unthinkable for our kind. One of our rules stated not to kill humans. And the corresponding unbreakable law was that anyone responsible for breaking the rule, or a witness to the breaking of the rule, must admit the deed to an Elder. It was a law that was essentially a direct command from an Elder, and as Jim had experienced firsthand, a direct command was unbreakable. So how, then, did someone break it?
“Winifred filled me in. The call is going out tonight. Keep in touch, Emmitt. Your Mom and I were starting to worry.”
“I’m sorry. I’m home now and will be here if you want to ring us again.” I hung up and went back to Jim’s place.
“Mom cry?” Jim asked.
“Yeah.”
“She’s happy she’ll have a chance to spoil grand-cubs. Well, unless you screw up again. I wonder how many kneeings it takes to crack a nut.”
Chapter 13
Each day following the revelation of how Richard had died, Michelle sank further into the fearful existence in which she’d lived when she arrived. She woke often at night, walking through her apartment to check windows and doors. During the day, she hovered over her brothers, unwilling to let them out of her sight.
Jim, Winifred, and I each tried to reassure her. Richard had died the month before, and it had been all over the news then. There was no reason for the mutt responsible to believe she was now safely hidden away with us. Our words did little good.
By Thursday morning, she was once again a pale shadow of herself. When she and the boys weren’t around to notice, I prowled my apartment in frustration. I hated the fear that ate at her and the haunted look in her eyes. But what more could I do to help her feel secure here?
She needed sleep. She needed peace and comfort.
By dinner, I couldn’t stand it anymore. She barely ate and didn’t say a word through the whole meal. The boys, thankfully, weren’t taking their cues from her and laughed through dessert, a lopsided cake Aden and Jim had baked. Jim and I worked hard every day so they would feel safe and loved and it seemed to be enough for them.
When Michelle drifted from the room, I went to catch her in the hallway.
She looked up at me with lost, sad eyes when I wrapped my hand around her arm to stop her from climbing the steps.
“I’ll sleep on the couch after the boys go to bed.” I didn’t ask; I told her. And, if me being on the couch didn’t help her sleep, then I’d lay on the bed next to her and hold her all night.
“Okay.”
Her simple acceptance told me just how bad it had gotten.
That night, I helped put the boys to bed and insisted she keep her apartment door open. As soon as the boys were breathing deeply, I let myself in and closed the door behind me. Michelle wasn’t in the living room. I found her already in bed, her eyes closed and her hand tucked under a cheek as she lay on her side.
“Michelle,” I said, gently running my fingers over her hair. “I’m here. Everything is locked