Page 83 of Fated to the Lone Shifter
I snap photos of the corkboard, the burnt fire binder and the box that smells like smoke, which I can’t open. Damaging, yes. But nothing that connects Bode directly to the crimes…yet. However, there might be enough here to get a warrant.
I scan the room for anything the FBI can sink its teeth into. Weapons? None—the wolves are the weapons. Blood-stained clothes? Fur is all they wear when they kill, and I’m not opening that den of snakes to bite any of us supernaturals!
I spot the crew’s production schedule pinned to the wall. I snap a picture. “FM” appears in the notes multiple times. Curious.
I grab his phone. Swipe through texts. Calls. Too clean. Too curated. Just casting schedules and costume notes. No slip-ups there.
Then I see it through the window—flashing red and blue lights bleeding through the trees, cold and accusatory.
My stomach knots. A heartbeat skips. They’re coming—too soon, too bold.
Panic flares in my chest.
“No, Noah,” I whisper. “What did you do?”
I need to intercept. Fast. It’s too dangerous for the police to stumble upon the crew tonight. Or any night.
I slip out the back, with a quick look behind me at Bode sound asleep on the bed. Ducking behind a thick tree trunk, I watch the lights approaching. Too few. Not enough. If they get any closer to Bode’s men, there will be blood. Fire. Carnage. And the last thing I need is a moonlit massacre because someone came to play hero.
I take the long route out, skirting wide around the camp. Two guards lean against a tree near the back trail, half-alert, half-bored.
Perfect.
I sneak up behind them, silent as breath. A quick spell whispered into the air. One crumples from a stun charm; the other I take down with a solid jab to the temple. I grab the handgun off his belt before he hits the ground and throw it in the bushes to buy me time.
A few cabins ahead, I catch sight of more bodies—humans, likely asleep. They don’t stir. Good.
I run as fast as I can intent on getting to the squad cars before the scent enters the camp. With any luck, the highway is upwind.
The road is just ahead when my foot catches on something heavy. I trip on it. It looks like a rock—until I see it glisten.
A claw. A massive one. Dried blood crusts along the tip.
Adrenaline spikes through me. This…this could be the proof we need.
I yank off my jacket, then my shirt, wrapping the claw carefully in its plaid weave before rolling it in layers, putting my jacket back on and zipping it inside. No time to question why the gods saw fit to leave it in my path. I’ll take the win.
I hit the roadside just as headlights crest the hill. Sprinting toward the squad car, I wave my arms in wide, frantic arcs.
“Stop!” I cry. “Please—stop!”
The tires screech on pavement, and the car jerks to a halt. Two officers leap out, guns already raised, until they see me—bare-armed, wide-eyed, barefoot in the dirt.
“There was something in the woods,” I gasp, breath hitching like I’m barely holding it together. “A wolf or... I don’t know. I climbed a tree to get away. I just—I saw your lights and I ran.”
They exchange a look, the older one nodding with a slow sigh. “You’re not the first. Lots of sightings lately.”
I nod like I believe them. Like I’m just some girl caught in a spooky wildlife story. I’m grateful for their easy buy-in. This is a story I can duplicate with the FBI. One I can stick to when I hand over this evidence. It’s simple, believable, and just murky enough to fly under supernatural suspicion.
They usher me into the backseat, and I finally let myself breathe. My hand still clutches the jacket wrapped around the claw. The evidence I needed.
Then I whisper into the darkness,Now let’s burn this whole thing down.
Later, back in my room, I finally breathe.
I text Tori: “Need your strongest salve. “Love bite.”
Then another, to Bode: “Thanks for a great night. Sorry. Had to run. Early shift. I’ll see you in a few days.”
