Page 77 of Howl for the Gargoyle

"I don't care about him! Ray, I need to get to Rafe," I moaned, the seatbelt strapped across my chest biting into my throat.

Fletcher, whose real name was actually Kirk Fincher, had attacked another woman. It was how he'd received the scars. Not from a werewolf, but after his first transformation. He'd hunted down a young woman, and she'd gouged her handful of keys into his face. But the CCTV footage had been blurry, and Fincher's defense team had made a strong argument that it'd been the woman who'd attacked first, prompting Fincher to defend himself. He'd been charged only with not seeking an appropriate safe haven for the full moon and was out on probation within a year.

I didn't blame the woman. If I'd been ready to defend myself, been facing Fincher's werewolf instead of left vulnerable with my back to him, if I'd known what was coming, I would've struck first too.

But not now. I meant what I'd said to Ray. The police could do whatever they wanted or had to, and I would stay out of their way…up to a point. The point being I needed to get to my mate.

"Please. I don't…I don't think you can stop me, Ray," I admitted, wincing and knowing that might just prompt Ray to cuff me in the backseat of the cruiser to keep me out of the way.

But he sighed. "No, I doubt it too. Can't believe you didn't introduce me to him," he muttered.

Something that ought to have been a laugh huffed out of me. A brief fantasy of dragging Rafe to meet Ray with me at Chicago Diner bubbled up in my head. Ray, meet Rafe, my sex partner who's been helping me with full moon cravings. Rafe, meet Ray, the detective assigned to my case who’s become a surrogate dad to me.

Except then I wanted to cry a little, because I really wanted to have that moment between them. Just maybe not in those exact words.

"Stop!" I cried out, suddenly aware of how close we were, like I'd wound the tether between Rafe and I around my finger and suddenly found there was no more room to twist.

I turned in my seat, and when Ray put the car in park, I tore the seatbelt loose, reaching for the door.

"Hannah," Ray snarled in warning, and I froze, fighting back all the terror and anger and the instinctual demand that I slash him with my claws for daring to stop me from getting to my mate. "Please. At least let us go in together."

I licked my lips, but even my tongue felt dry in this moment, scraping over where I'd bitten too roughly. I nodded. Together. Together, we would help distract Fincher, make it easier for me to get to Rafe.

He was here.

Ray was quick, jumping out of the car before I'd even slid out of my seat, probably wanting to make sure he didn't lose me. He pulled a radio from his left hip and a gun from the right, calling orders into the mouthpiece, demanding backup. But he followed me as I paced a circle around his car, searching for the tether to Rafe. We were at a rundown corner of the neighborhood, vacant brownstones with broken windows facing a carryout with faded window peel advertisements, a faint glow emitting through the chipped illustrations. I paced toward the brownstones and then froze, my gut yanking me backwards.

"Hold your breath and focus for one minute, Hannah, and I swear this will go smoother and easier for us," Ray said in my ear, shoulder to shoulder with me. "Can you feel him? Is he alive?"

I nodded, whining, because Rafe was beautifully alive, determinedly hopeful, and in so much pain.

"You let me and the team rush in first, and you'll have a clear path right to your mate," Ray said as my feet dragged me closer.

For a second the scene, this strange, impossible moment, sank in. There was a street lamp in the corner flickering, and this far from downtown, the sky was a deeper shade of ink blue. If there were witnesses watching from windows, they hid from Ray's police car lights.

But Fincher would know.

"Hannah," Ray coaxed.

I sucked in a breath, trying to see the reason Ray offered, to convince myself that it was the right move legally and logically in this moment. But then a sharp, cracking sound came from inside, and I cried out at the faded echo of pain in my leg, launching myself forward.

Ray cursed, but he didn't grab me or try to settle me again, just charged to the door at my side. His radio was bleating at his hip, but he had both hands on his gun.

"Open the door and stand back," he said to me, pressing himself to the right of the opening, his back to the window. We were both wearing heavy, plated vests for protection, and the wolf in me wanted to disregard every word, charge inside, and follow the magnet drawing me to my suffering mate.

But Rafe had always praised me for how much control I had, teased me for it, and I held onto that, even as my claws flexed in my aching, trembling hands. I opened the door, shielded behind it.

"Kirk Fincher, come out unarmed, hands up," Ray called, but he didn't wait for an answer. His eyes widened on me once more, a new call of sirens rushing closer. "You should not be here," he hissed, one final protestation, and then he twisted and charged inside, gun raised.

He was right, and I hoped it didn't hurt his case, but I didn't hesitate to swing around the open door and follow him in.

"Downstairs," I whispered, focusing on the gut dropping sensation that called me down underground to Rafe. My eyes glanced wildly around the bare shelves and hollow black freezers. A single lightbulb in a cage rested on the floor down one aisle, extension cord trailing into a freezer.

But my instinct only pointed to Rafe's location. A shot thundered through the air, bouncing wildly off metal shelves and glass doors. Ray was faster than me, his arm around my shoulders yanking me to the floor, shoving me toward the dark backroom, just as one of the freezer doors on our right banged open.

"Go!" Ray snapped at me, holding me down by a hand on my back as he stood and turned.

"You found me," Fletch- Fincher shouted, almost jovial, and I spared him one glance. His scar was white and wild, and he was splashed with a strange, shimmering silver that made my heart pound in fear. His eyes were on me. "I told you," he said to me. "We have a con—"

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