Page 49 of Fated to the Lone Shifter
Noah nods, his voice softer now. “Well… thanks.”
Tori arches a brow. “We say, ‘I appreciate this gesture." She tucks her hair back behind her ear, displaying a pointy, fae ear. Noah shakes his head with amazement and sincere respect.
For the first time since I arrived at Firehouse 333, I feel… grounded. Like maybe I’m not entirely alone in this firestorm of secrets. Tori knows my truth. Noah now knows hers. But neither of them knows about the FBI badge I keep hidden beneath the floorboard… or that this entire mission could jeopardize our deepest secrets.
And still, I’m not ready to walk away. Not from the fire. Not from this case. And certainly not from Noah.
Noah doesn’t say much as we leave sick bay, but his silence isn’t neutral—it hums with tension, something unspoken simmering beneath the surface. The second we hit the hallway, he grabs my wrist—hard.
Before I can react, he pins me against the cool concrete wall, his body caging me in, his breath brushing against my cheek.
“So when were you going to tell me?” he asks, voice low and rough.
I could break the hold—I know I could—but I don’t want to. I love feeling the connection to him, even if he's angry with me. But the heat in his eyes isn’t just anger. It’s confusion. Hurt. Maybe even betrayal.
“I didn’t think I’d have to spell it out,” I say, voice even. “Given everything we’ve been through.”
His eyes narrow. He surveys the hall to make sure we are alone. “I’m not talking about the witchy part.”
My pulse kicks harder in my throat.
“I’m talking about the other matter,” he continues. “The black SUV. You dressed in black. You having possession of an item that was turned over to the authorities.” He inches even closer. “You thought I wouldn’t put the pieces together? Let me tell you, you’re not warding as well as your cousin.”
His scent coils around me—smoke and pine and something wild beneath it all. I shove gently at his chest, breaking free with a sharp breath, but I don’t go far.
“You were watching me?” I ask, more curious than angry.
“I’m always watching you,” he says, voice thick. “Because I have to.”
There’s something about the way he says it—like it’s a burden, a compulsion, a truth he can’t escape. His body is still thrumming with adrenaline from the field, from whatever storm is building inside him, but I can’t tell if he wants to kiss me or cuff me again.
Maybe both.
I take a step back, needing space to think, to breathe. “I didn’t lie to you.”
“No,” he agrees. “You just left a few very important details out.”
The air between us sparks, thick with everything we’re not saying. We stare each other down like wolves circling the same fire, neither willing to back down first.
But neither of us is ready to walk away either.
"Spill it!" he commands.
Every bone in my body wants to, but I can't.
My nervous system streams signals in all directions at once like a broken fire hydrant gushing spray. I don't know what else to do.
So I bolt from the firehouse, leaving Noah to burn down behind me. Trees blur past, their shadows streaking across my vision as I crash into the woods, not caring which path I take. The forest greets me with cool earth and the scent of moss, but I barely register it. My mind is spinning too fast.
What was I thinking? Telling Noah nothing when he was clearly watching me? Letting him touch me like that, hold me like he could see through my skin to everything I was hiding?
He knows.
He doesn’t know everything—but he knows enough.
And I know there's no way I can outrun him.
I just need time. Distance. A plan.
