Page 79 of Howl for the Gargoyle

"Hannah!" Rafe screamed.

Fincher's grin was wild and forced, all the ferocious energy he'd buried that my instinct had shied away from now revealed. But he didn't fire. Not at me.

I wasn't his mate. It'd taken him months to find me, and it was his search—joining and leaving werewolf group therapies around the city, signing up for and quitting shelters—that had finally left enough clues for Ray to follow. If I'd been his mate, he would've been able to do what I'd done tonight for Rafe.

He was just a man who'd tried to take what he wanted from a woman, and then created a fantasy to support his greed.

I scratched hard at the wound on his leg with one clawed hand, snatched the hand holding the gun with my other, and tackled him onto the stairs. The gun went off, but it was pointed high above Fincher's head, and he was howling and snarling, trying to kick my grip off his injury. I only dug deeper.

"You found me," he snarled up at me, still grinning. His eyes weren't focusing, fully black and dilated, but he was still clinging to his claim, the one some part of him knew was a lie.

"No," Rafe announced from behind me, and then he was looming over my back, one heavy stone foot planting itself on Fincher's chest, pinning him down. "She found me."

CHAPTER 27

Hannah

Rafe's arms tightened around my shoulders, his breath hitching, but he laughed in my ear at my low snarl, and he wouldn't let me turn and glare at the medics who were tending to his wings. Swarms of police and medical officials and journalists flashing camera lights circled around us, but I kept my back to them all, holding on to the only thing that mattered.

My mate.

"I'm okay, babe," Rafe said, pressing a kiss to my temple.

The endearment was placating in a way that felt almost weaponized, but I settled in Rafe's embrace. We had nearly gotten ourselves separated by arguing with the medics about letting him hold me, and Ray had to step in on our behalf.

Speaking of…

I leaned forward, searching the swirling crowd until I saw my friend, head down and shoulders up, heading in our direction.

"Did we mess things up too much for you?" I asked Ray when he reached us.

His lips pursed, and he shrugged in a way that said 'a little.' "No one was here to see you shove me out of the way and run inside," Ray said, glancing at me and raising his eyebrows.

I fought my own grateful smile. "Right. Sorry about that."

He grunted. "But nah. Should be okay. He's talking too much now to make a good case for himself."

"Was he right?" Rafe asked, drawing mine and Ray's attention. "Could he have had a one-sided mate bond?"

"No," Ray and I said at the same time.

Rafe rubbed his cheek against my head, soothing me, and Ray continued, "No, and there's a trail of reports about him stalking women. This is a pattern of behavior, not a romantic impulse or whatever the fuck—" Ray shook his head, turning briefly away, gaze blazing.

"Thank you, Ray," I murmured.

He turned back to me, tension melting. "I'm gonna get you two outta here as soon they're done patching you up."

Behind Rafe, a medic spoke up. "Pretty much there. Gargoyle clotting makes good mortar."

I twisted to shoot a glare at the man, a large and cheerful orc, but Rafe was just grinning.

"Just need to be careful for a couple weeks. No flying, and definitely no pressure on any of the fractures for the next few days," the orc added.

"How many interviews have they put you through already?" Ray asked me.

"Three or four," I said.

He nodded. "I'll clear you. We'll talk after the full moon. You'll introduce me properly," he added, arching an eyebrow and glancing at Rafe significantly.

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