Page 13 of Knotted By my Pack
Still, I stay. Watching. Waiting. Because Julian is here, and that means trouble isn’t far behind.
Julian begins to explain something, but my mind drifts off. The assistant mayor’s voice drags me out of my thoughts.
“It’s getting late. Let’s move on to the next order of business.”
The crowd shifts, murmurs filling the room as I slip out the back door unnoticed. I’ve done this countless times—show up just long enough to gauge the situation, and then disappear before anyone notices I was even there.
But today is different.
As I get into my truck and pull away from the town hall, my mind replays Cora’s face over and over. Her fire, her determination.
She’s not like the others—those that fall in line when someone with money waves it in front of their faces. No, she’s got something else.
I shake my head, trying to push the thought away. I’ve never been one to let people in. Not after everything I’ve been through. But there’s something about her... something about the way she stood up to Julian like she had nothing to lose.
The familiar quiet settles over me when I arrive back at my cabin. My dog, Rusty,a scruffy rescue I found near the highway a couple of years ago, bounds toward me with a wagging tail.
He’s a mix of some kind of terrier and mutt, small but full of energy. His white fur is speckled with patches of brown, and his ears perk up when he sees me. He’s always been loyal, and I’m grateful for it.
I scratch behind his ears as I enter the cabin. The place is simple, but it’s mine—solar-powered, off the grid, and surrounded by trees.
I’ve done everything I can to make this my sanctuary, my escape from the mess I left behind. But no matter how much I try to block it out, I know I can’t hide forever.
I glance over at the water I harvested from last night’s rain. It’s stored in large barrels just outside. I check it to make sure there’s no contamination, not that there’s much risk.
I trust the system I’ve set up. The rainwater is enough for most of my needs, and I’ve got a filtration system in place just in case.
I take a deep breath and decide to get to work. The night is cool, and I want a fire. The logs are stacked neatly, ready to be chopped.
I grab the axe and start splitting wood, the sound of each swing echoing in the air. There’s something cathartic about the rhythmic motion, the solid crack of the wood as it splits down the middle.
Once I’ve got enough, I head inside and build the fire, its crackle filling the room as I settle into my routine. I light the stove, preparing the steak I’d seasoned earlier.
The sizzle of it on the cast iron skillet brings a sense of calm, something familiar, something grounded. I flip the steak, letting it cook to perfection.
I’ve always been an environmentalist—there’s no question about that. The cabin is powered by the sun, I harvest rainwater, and I try to leave as small a footprint as possible.
But I’ll be honest: I’m not perfect. My truck is a gas guzzler, and I’ll never give it up. And when it comes to food, a well-cooked steak is one of the few indulgences I allow myself.
Once dinner’s done, I sit back in my chair, Rusty at my feet. The fire’s warmth radiates through the room, and I dig into the steak, savoring the medium-rare that I always cook it to. It’s quiet, peaceful, just the way I like it.
But my mind refuses to let go of Cora.
Why does she intrigue me so damn much?
I can’t stop thinking about the way she looked at Julian, how she spoke her mind without hesitation, how her eyes held a fire that didn’t seem to match her delicate frame.
I never thought I’d meet someone like her.
But that’s the problem, isn’t it?
I don’t get involved. I made a vow to myself when I moved here: keep to myself, keep my distance, live my life without the baggage of the past. But it’s hard to ignore her, hard to ignore the pull she has on me.
I grab the remote and flick on the TV, letting reruns of an old show fill the silence. But it’s just noise. Nothing is holding my attention, not even the faces I’ve seen a hundred times.
Rusty shifts, his little head resting on my knee. I absentmindedly scratch behind his ears, my mind still on Cora. She’s stubborn, I can tell. But there’s something else, too.
There’s a vulnerability beneath that fire, something raw, and I want to understand it.
