Page 23 of Witch's Wolf

Helena doesn’t flinch.

“Yes, I tried. I wanted Edward to see what he’d be missing if he walked away. Your situation is different.”

“Different how?” I ask.

“Edward had the weight of his entire pack against us. They told him I’d hurt him. They were afraid. Of me, of my power. But you? Sam’s brother is with a human. There’s no one trying topoison him against you. This fear of his? It’s his and his alone. That’s why you stand a chance.”

I nod slowly, her words sinking in even as they twist something deeper inside me. A chance. It feels so fragile. So impossible. I glance at the door, desperate for an escape before my emotions get the better of me.

“I should get going,” I say, voice tight. “Thanks for the advice, Helena. You’ve been... helpful.”

“Anytime, dear,” she says with a smile, but her eyes hold a weight that feels like a mirror to my own. “Anytime.”

I turn away, my steps slow and measured as I head for the door. The moment it clicks shut behind me, the weight I’ve been holding back crashes in, bringing uncertainty and confusion. Old, familiar companions that they are, they dig their claws in and drag me down.

I can’t escape my circling thoughts. I’m not who I thought I was. Not human. Not ordinary. And now I have to factor that intoeverything.

I pause in the middle of the hallway, pressing my hand to the cool stone wall to steady myself. Sam. His face flashes in my mind, his scowl, his unreadable eyes. Will he ever look at me the same? No. He’ll turn and walk away. Run, just like I said.

I force myself to move, step after step, as though I can outrun the confusion gnawing at my insides. I don’t know my next step. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. All I know is that I’m not the person I’ve been pretending to be.

And I have no idea how to face what’s coming next.

12

SAM

Adamn distraction.

No matter how hard I try, my focus is shot to hell. Every clang of a hammer or whirr of a drill feels like noise rattling in my skull. I fumble a screwdriver, it clatters to the floor, and I mutter a curse under my breath. My eyes drift toward the workshop door again.

Stop it, Sam. Just stop.

But I can’t. I cross the shop for what feels like the hundredth time today, ignoring Raul’s knowing look. My boots crunch against the scattered gravel on the floor as I lean out the door and stare at the hillside.

I sniff the air, searching for any hint of Erica. Nothing. She must still be talking to Helena. About what? Why couldn’t I have stayed? Resigning myself to no answers, I return to my tasks.

I try to focus. Try to drown myself in work, but it doesn’t help. When we break for lunch, I spill everything to Raul and Ray, as if saying it out loud will ease the tension that’s been choking me.

Raul, ever the level-headed big brother, nods and grunts like he always does. Ray, though? He is having a fucking field day.

“Oh, oh, Sammy, what if she turns you into a toad in your sleep?” he says, barely able to hold back his laughter. “Or what if she thinks your dick is too big and shrinks it? Oh, wait, never mind. I forgot, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Shut the hell up, Ray,” I growl.

Still his words dig under my skin. Not because I believe him, Ray’s an idiot, but because deep down I worry there might be truth in his teasing. Not the toad or the curse, obviously, but… will Erica see me the way I see her? Or am I setting myself up for heartbreak?

I’ve tried to keep her outside, not wanting to risk myself for her. For any human. But if she’s a witch, does that make her dangerous or does it just make her different like me? And if she’s different, why the hell am I still pushing her away?

Hours drag by. My muscles ache from gripping tools too hard and grinding through tasks just to keep my hands busy. Every time I go outside there is no hint of her scent and no red BMW.

By late afternoon, I give up. If she hasn’t come by now, she’s not coming. The mountain roads are dangerous after dark and Erica’s too smart to risk that drive. She must’ve left straight from the library, avoiding me entirely. The thought is heavy and unyielding.

By the time night falls, the workshop is silent and the weight in my chest has only grown heavier. The air outside is cool, the woods alive with the hum of crickets, but none of it settles me. If anything, it drives me forward. I can’t stay still.

I toss my tools aside, shower off the grime of the day, and head out. If Erica won’t come to me, I’ll go to the one person who knows what the hell is going on.

Helena.

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