wasn’t the first one to take a shot at me, and probably won’t be the last. And how many of my Pack members tried to take you out in Minnesota?”
I paused. “That is a point.”
He nodded. “So if you so much as suggest this was your fault, you’ll just piss me off.”
I sucked in a hard and shuddering breath, nodded.
“I’m okay,” he said. “It’s gonna take more than a shitty sedan to break me.”
I put my screen in my pocket, scrubbed my hands over my face until I’d regained some composure.
I understood logically that I hadn’t caused this; I hadn’t driven the car, or asked anyone to hurt Connor. But that didn’t mitigate the fear, the fury, that someone had tried to hurt him—or that they believed hurting him was something I wanted. It couldn’t have been further from the truth.
Connor had become part of my life. An essential part. Despite our beginnings, despite at least fifteen years of mutual irritation, and paths that diverged almost completely. I’d come home to Chicago unwillingly. But I’d found a kind of home here, and he was a major part of it. And in seconds, someone had nearly ripped him away.
Tears breached my lashes. “Damn it,” I said, swiping at them. “I hate crying. And I’ve done entirely too much of it this week.”
“You are having a bit of a week,” he said and wrapped an arm around me. “Sometimes tears are inevitable. But I’m okay.”
I nodded. “It’s just . . .” I swallowed hard, opened my eyes, and looked up at him. And it took all the bravery and composure I had left to let myself be vulnerable, and tell him how I felt. “I’ve never had this much to lose.”
The look in his eyes was . . . majestic. Pride and triumph and joy combined, and I felt myself sink a little deeper in his thrall. He smiled slowly, with more of that Connor-trademarked satisfaction. “How much did that little admission cost you?”
I curled my lip at him. “Watch it, wolf.”
Still grinning, he brought our joined hands to his mouth, pressed his lips, soft and promising, to my fingers. “I don’t want to lose you, either, especially to a coward like the one who sent you that note. But life isn’t fair. So we enjoy what we can, and we fight when we must.”
“I’ll pay for the damage to Thelma.”
“Offer accepted.” The corners of his mouth lifted. “She deserves a little pampering. And possibly a few upgrades.”
The fear had passed; the traces were still there like salt on tear-stained cheeks, but I could think again. And those thoughts were . . . disturbing.
“The stalker is not sane,” I said quietly. “Someone else has to have noticed they’re pretty seriously disturbed. So how are they out and driving and able to send notes via mail and electronically?”
“Maybe the stalker’s a loner,” Connor said. “That wouldn’t be hard to believe.”
“No, it wouldn’t.” I pulled out my screen again, forced myself to read the note again and think about the message. I saw what I’d missed the first time. “The stalker is a vampire.”
“Yeah,” Connor said. “I agree. You should send that to the Ombuds.”
I did. There was only a moment’s delay then Theo responded: petra says message was anonymized, so we can’t track directly. we’re going to look for server dings and we’ll apprise robinson.
“What’s next?” Connor asked.
“The Ombuds and CPD are on the stalker,” I said. “And I’m not going to sit around and cry in the meantime.”
“That’s my girl,” he murmured.
“I’m glad you think so, and I’m going to apologize in advance for this,” I said, and I put a message on my online public profile, as big and bold as I could manage:
Hurting people in my name doesn’t help me. It hurts me. If you’re a true friend, talk to me directly. You know how to get in touch.
I let him read it; he went still, every muscle tense, a predator considering his strike. Slowly, he lifted his gaze to me. “I’m not sure if that was stupidly reckless or brilliantly strategic.”
A corner of my mouth lifted. “I’m not sure, either. But I’d rather have him—assuming it’s a man—aimed at me instead of hurting others. Including you.”
“I’m not leaving your side until he’s caught.”
“Deal,” I said. “But first I need to talk to my parents.”
“They’re back?”
“Messaged me at dusk. I told them not to travel, but . . .”
“They’re your parents.”
I nodded. “Yeah. I need to tackle this one myself—by