Page 4 of Claimed By Werewolf
He studied me for a long moment, the way he always did when he was weighing whether to believe me.“Nothing, huh?You didn’t scare her off?”
“She’s stubborn.”I thought of her chin tilted up and the fire in her voice.“Doesn’t scare easy.”
“That makes her dangerous.”
I didn’t disagree.
“Handle it,” Prez said finally.“If she keeps poking her nose where it doesn’t belong, she’ll end up like her brother.We can’t afford cops sniffing around again.You understand me?”
I nodded, but my jaw clenched.Because I understood all too well.
Handle it.
Which meant one of two things: scare her so bad she ran, or make sure she never asked another question again.Dead.
The second option left a sour taste in my mouth.
I left the office with the Prez’s warning echoing in my head.The sounds of laughter and clinking glasses hit me again, but none of it sank in.
All I saw was Demi Cross’s face.
The way her voice didn’t waver when she said my name.
The way she looked at me like maybe I was the monster who’d killed her brother or the one who could find the truth for her.
And the sick part?
I didn’t know which one I was, either.
Later that night, I stretched out on my bed in the back of the clubhouse.
Sleep didn’t come easy.It hadn’t for years.Too many ghosts.Too much blood.
But tonight wasn’t about old wars or past sins.Tonight, every time I closed my eyes, I saw her.
Demi.
Her stubborn chin.She tried to hide her trembling fingers.The way her eyes caught the light and refused to look away from me.
And the thing I hated most?The part that would get her killed faster than anything?
I didn’t want her to walk away.
I wanted her to come back.
Chapter Three
Demi
The streetlight flickered overhead and buzzed like an insect ready to fry itself on the bulb.The echo of Werewolf’s engine still lingered in the air, and left me with nothing but silence and the pounding of my heart.
He’d walked away.
Correction, he’driddenaway.Left me standing in the middle of a cracked parking lot like some fool who thought she could demand answers from the devil himself.
I wrapped my arms around my stomach and willed myself not to shake.Not because of fear, though.God knew he was terrifying, but I refused to let him get under my skin.
“Sweetheart,” he’d called me like it was some kind of insult.
