Page 7 of Spike

Beside her, a bear shifter in his fifties accompanied her. Juan Martinez used to be an enforcer for the clan.

The tension radiated from him, his gaze warily assessing me. I realized he was looking at the patch on my leather cut, and then his gaze shifted to my face, his brow furrowing.

It became apparent that he regarded me as a potential threat.

Katherine's eyes narrowed as she took a step closer, her voice laced with a restrained anger. "Sean Riggs?”

When was the last time anyone called me by that name? I nodded, swallowing the lump that had formed in my throat.

“Katherine, Juan," I greeted, making sure my tone was courteous. "It's been a while."

Her eyes bore into mine, as if searching for answers or perhaps blame.

"You disappeared, Sean. Vanished after the funeral without a word,” Katherine said.

Guilt washed over me, and I found it hard to meet her gaze.

"I needed to get away after what happened,” I muttered and immediately regretted what I just said.

Dang it, but I’d never been good with words. Juan's gaze remained fixed on me, suspicion lingering.

"Why are you here, Sean?” he asked, his voice a low growl.

My inner grizzly surged to the surface, not liking the challenge in Juan’s voice. A growl slipped out of my throat and Juan tightened his grip on Katherine’s arm.

I reeled my beast in, aware that my presence might be unsettling for them.

"Just paying my respects," I explained, gesturing towards Austin's headstone. "I didn't mean to cause any trouble."

Katherine's glare softened, replaced by a mix of sorrow and understanding.

"We miss him every day," she admitted.

Juan's gaze, however, remained guarded.

"Be careful, Sean,” he warned, a hint of the enforcer he used to be lingering in his tone. "Not everyone is as forgiving as Katherine."

With a nod, I watched as they walked away, leaving me standing alone by Austin's resting place.

"Sorry, buddy," I told Austin, my voice carrying the weight of regret.

"Maybe it wasn't a good idea to come here, but I just wanted to see you, hoping..." I trailed off, the words catching in my throat.

What did I hope to accomplish by coming here?

Did I think that visiting Austin's gravestone would somehow put an end to the nightmares and the relentless guilt that haunted my every step?

Shaking my head, I turned away from the gravestone. The cemetery held a solemn silence.

As I walked away, I couldn't shake the feeling that Austin's spirit lingered in the shadows, watching over me.

Mounting my motorcycle, I felt a prickling sensation on the back of my neck, a sense of being observed.

Maybe Juan had informed members of the clan about my visit. Regardless, no one approached me as I revved the engine, preparing to leave Haven Brook behind.

The quiet town held too many memories, too much pain.

"What I need is a drink or two," I muttered to myself.

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