Page 29 of Falling for My Shifter Defender

"Just one," Theo confirms. "And they're already retreating. Our wards detected them before they got within three miles of town limits."

My hands are still trembling. I clench them into fists, nails biting into my palms. "But what if there are more? What if this is just a distraction?"

"It's possible," Theo concedes, "but unlikely. We've been systematically dismantling hunter cells in this region for the past year. What's left are mostly stragglers—dangerous, but disorganized."

I shake my head, unable to accept his assessment. For five years, hunters have been the monsters under the bed, the shadows in the corner, the reason I can't sleep through the night. They can't just be... diminished.

"But what if they come back?" The words escape before I can stop them, raw with fear. "What if they're watching, waiting for us to let our guard down?"

Theo's expression doesn't change. "They will," he says evenly. "But we're ready."

He gestures to another screen, this one showing a detailed layout of Whispering Pines Elementary. "The school has triple-layered protection. Magical wards, physical security, and shifter patrols. No one gets in or out without clearance. Ryan's pack has members stationed on the grounds at all times, and Jenna has direct access to our emergency protocols."

He walks me through the defensive measures, the evacuation plans, the response teams positioned throughout town. It's comprehensive, methodical, and clearly well-established.

"We don't take chances," Theo says, meeting my gaze directly. "But they're not the threat they once were. The hunters who targeted you and Willow specifically? They're gone."

I want to believe him. I want it so badly it hurts. But three years of running doesn't disappear in a few weeks of relative safety.

"I need to see Willow," I whisper, the need to verify her safety with my own eyes overwhelming everything else.

Theo nods, his expression softening slightly. "Take the rest of the day. Be with your sister."

I turn to leave, then pause, looking back at him. "Thank you. For... everything."

He gives me a small, rare smile. "This is what we do, Grace. This is why we're here."

As we walk back through the main office, the adrenaline begins to fade, leaving me hollow and shaky. Embarrassment creeps in, hot and uncomfortable. I'd been ready to grab Willow and run—again. Ready to throw away everything we've built here over a single alert. Ready to uproot my sister from the first place she's started to feel at home.

"I almost ran," I whisper as we reach the parking lot, ashamed. "I didn't even think—I just felt it. That same burn in my chest, that need to move, to flee. Like the ground was breaking under me."

Eli walks beside me, close enough that our shoulders occasionally brush. "Yeah," he says, his voice gentle. "But this time, you didn't. You listened. You asked for help." His eyes findmine, warm and free of judgment. "That's not weakness, Grace. That's strength."

I look away, unable to bear the weight of his understanding. "It doesn't feel like strength. It feels like I'm still broken."

"Broken doesn't mean weak," he says quietly. "It just means you've survived something that tried to destroy you."

The drive to the school is quiet. Eli doesn't push me to talk, doesn't try to fill the silence with reassurances. He just drives, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the console between us. After a few minutes, I reach over and place my hand on top of his. His fingers immediately turn, intertwining with mine. The simple contact grounds me, reminding me that I'm here, now, not trapped in the past.

We arrive at the school just as the final bell rings. I watch as children pour out of the building, their voices rising in a cheerful cacophony. My eyes scan frantically for Willow, heart still not quite believing she's safe until I see her.

And then I spot her—Willow, bouncing down the steps, her backpack swinging, talking animatedly with another little girl. She looks happy. Normal. Safe. Nothing like the terrified child I spirited away in the middle of the night three years ago.

She spots us and breaks into a run, her face lighting up. "Grace! Eli! You're both here!"

I crouch down as she barrels into me, wrapping my arms around her small frame, breathing in the scent of her hair. She smells like crayons and playground dirt and the strawberry shampoo she insists on using. She smells like childhood. Like safety.

"How was your first day, kiddo?"

"It was amazing!" She pulls back, eyes bright with excitement. "I made three new friends, and Ms. Cooper says I'm really good at math, and we learned about shifter history, and did you know there's another half-shifter in my class? Her name is Lily and she can almost shift all the way but sometimes she gets stuck with just ears and a tail and—"

She breaks off, finally noticing my expression. "Are you okay, Grace? You look sad."

I smooth her hair back from her forehead, trying to hide the residual fear. "I'm not sad. I'm just really, really happy to see you."

This seems to satisfy her, and she turns to Eli, launching into another story about recess games and lunch trades. I stand, watching them together—the way he crouches to her level, the animated way she talks with her hands, the genuine interest in his eyes as he listens to every word.

They are my world. Both of them.

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