Page 79 of Flare
Andrew Brunborn, his face distorted in a grotesque half-shift, fur sprouting in patches across his visible skin, was prowling around Ward’s back porch.
“Fuck,” Ward growled, horror washing over him in a sick wave.“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
Emily was alone in the house.
“What is it?” Maggie asked.
Ward couldn’t answer. His mind was flooded with images of Emily’s face from just hours ago—the trust in her eyes when she’d curled against him in bed, saying she finally felt safe. The way she’d smiled when he promised her that Andrew would never hurt her again.
“I have to go,” he said, already backing away from the fire.“It’s an emergency.”
“What? Ward, we’re in the middle of—”
“It’s Andrew. He’s at my house. Emily’s alone.”
Maggie’s eyes widened behind her goggles.“Go. I’ll cover for you.”
Ward was already yanking off his helmet, fumbling with the clasp of his turnout coat. He unclipped the radio from his belt, holding it to his mouth as he broke into a run toward his truck.
“Chief,” he panted into the mic.“There’s an emergency at my place. Andrew Brunborn just showed up there. Emily’s in danger. I have to go.”
His uncle Dane’s voice crackled back immediately.“Go. I’ll call it in for you. Be careful, Ward.”
Ward didn’t wait to hear more. He flung himself into his pickup, the engine roaring to life as he stomped on the gas. Dirt sprayed from beneath his tires as he peeled away from the scene.
Ward’s hands tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles whitened. He pushed his truck to its limits.
And then his phone erupted with a shrill, distinctive alert from Emily’s panic button.
Chapter 22
Confrontation
Emily was halfway through her breakfast when the back door disappeared with a deafening crack. The entire doorframe tore free from the wall in a spray of splinters.
She jolted to her feet, heart hammering, as a monstrous figure stepped through the wreckage.
Andrew.
He stood in the doorway, half-shifted into the figure that had haunted her nightmares since fleeing Spokane. Golden-brown fur sprouted in uneven patches across his distorted body, and his face was a disturbing blend of human and ursine features.
His shoulders were hunched, his fingers curled into clawed fists, and his snarl was all sharp, gleaming teeth. His eyes glowed bright gold as they glared at her, and his rage filled the room like smoke, toxic and suffocating.
“You didn’t think you could run from me forever, did you?” he growled.
She shoved her chair back and jumped to her feet. But before she could make a run for it, he lunged.
His furry, misshapen hand clamped around her forearm. Long, curved black claws dug into her skin, drawing blood.“You’re mine,” Andrew snarled, pulling her towards him.
But Emily didn’t freeze—not this time.
“Not anymore.” Her voice shook with mingled terror and fury.
With a sharp twist, she yanked her wrist toward the gap between Andrew’s thumb and fingers and wrenched free of his grip. Pain sliced across her arm as his claws raked her.
She didn’t hesitate. Her fingers flew to the panic button clipped to her jeans pocket. A soft chime, barely audible over her thundering heartbeat, confirmed the signal had gone out.
He reached for her again, but Emily kicked hard, aiming low, just like Ward taught her. The heel of her sock-clad foot slammed into his knee, right below the kneecap.
