escape it, not even for a day. It was always there, haunting me. Everything I’d failed at, everyone I’d let down… I carried it with me as surely as I carried my knitting.
I took a shaky breath and wiped angrily at my cheeks. I needed to grow the hell up. There was no use sitting outside and crying like a child over something that couldn’t be changed. I shoved to my feet and took a step and pitched forward as I tripped over the damn cat as he raced to twine between my feet.
And once again, instead of falling on my face, I fell against a very broad, solid chest and looked up into Henry’s frowning face.
Chapter 12
Henry
They followed a few tracks from the intersection where Henry had found the witch but lost the scent of the coyotes and wolves in the tangle of city smells and car exhaust. It was the one thing he really missed about Montana: out there, he could track a scent for miles and miles without much effort.
It was also possible for someone—or something—to track him for miles and miles. Not so in the city, not after he’d spent years learning how to disappear.
The team spread out and searched for any other hints of who had decided to encroach on their territory, but there weren’t any clear signs. Without much to go on, Henry signaled them all to go home. Half went back to the old building—the massive industrial factory that had been turned into the original pack house—and he and Silas went back to the witch’s house.
Henry’s pace slowed as they approached the house and saw Deirdre’s car sitting out front with the passenger door open. He sniffed the air, searching for hints of trouble, and caught a whisper of an almost-familiar scent. He ambled to a halt in the middle of the street, frowning at the car. The witch. The new witch, he thought. Not Deirdre.
Silas glanced at him, then at the house. “Something wrong?”
Henry shook his head and forced his legs to move again. The witch, Ophelia, had been near the house, was potentially still there. Was she there by invitation or had she shown up looking to cause trouble? He didn’t look at the other wolf. “Just something unexpected. Maybe a bit of trouble. Too early to tell.”
Silas’s attention wandered to the car, and his eyes narrowed. Henry didn’t know much about the other wolf’s past, other than he’d spent some time in the military or a private military company or something martial, but he was generally a trustworthy and unflappable presence on patrols. Something about the way Silas’s posture tensed and he leaned forward slightly made Henry’s wolf roar to the surface, wanting to protect the witch.
He walked stiff-legged up to the car to evaluate the situation and stopped near the passenger side when he realized the witch still sat there. Her pale face took on a determined expression and she muttered something to herself before pushing to her feet. Henry opened his mouth to ask what she was doing, but before he could get a word out, Ophelia tripped on the cat and crumpled, her arms full of a bulky bag.
For the second time since he’d met her, Henry had to jump in to catch her before she fell. She didn’t weigh much, so it was easy to hold her up against his chest. It took a little maneuvering to avoid having that damn bag gouging into his guts, but then he held her and her head tucked under his chin and everything clicked into place. The world tilted a bit and realigned, and it felt like something that had been missing from his life was suddenly back where it was supposed to be.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath from her hair, unable to move. What the hell was going on?
Silas cleared his throat. “Want me to get the medic, boss?”
Henry shook his head without opening his eyes, exhaling a breath he’d been holding for what felt like eternity. “Nah. I’ll make sure she gets inside.”
“Who is she?”
“She’s Ophelia,” the witch said, her voice muffled against Henry’s chest. “And she can’t breathe.”
Henry loosened his hold on her, though he didn’t let her go. His wolf didn’t want to let her move away, not with another male so close, but he couldn’t justify guarding her as much as he wanted to. She wasn’t his. He didn’t even know her last name.
Silas studied them both with a raised