Page 79 of Moonlit Nights & Northern Lights
“Shall we head back to the cottage?” I murmured to Rory.
“I’ll use the bathroom, then we can say goodnight to Uncle Alex and Isla.” He jerked his head to where they stood by a bookcase, finishing their drinks.
As I watched Rory walk away, a peculiar sensation washed over me—something akin to abandonment, as ridiculous as that sounded.
For goodness sake, Theodore. He’s going to the bathroom, not emigrating.
Yet the absurd impulse to follow him persisted. What was I planning to do? Stand guard outside the door? Hold his hand while he pissed? Laughable, but the humour felt hollow against the mounting unease crawling up my spine.
Why was I suddenly pathetically dependent on Rory Thorne’s presence? The man who’d been nothing but an irritation since the day I’d slapped handcuffs on him. The man whose chaotic energy and blatant disregard for procedure had driven me to the brink of professional madness more times than I could count.
And yet here I stood, fighting the irrational urge to trail after him like a lost puppy, terrified of being left alone in a room full of predators wearing human skin. I clutched my tiny china cup of coffee close to my chest, taking minuscule sips so that I’d be busy in Rory’s absence.
Pull yourself together, for fuck’s sake.
“Detective Maxwell.” Tariq Fraser materialised at my elbow, his voice low and measured. “A moment of your time?”
“Of course,” I said, heart sinking.
“I understand your… protective instincts toward Rory,” Fraser said, his tone measured in that particularly Scottish way that suggested he understood nothing of the sort. “But you should know that pack business is pack business. Tonight’s run is a sacred tradition. Humans aren’t welcome.”
I bit back several retorts that would have done nothing for diplomatic relations. “That’s perfectly fine,” I said instead, keeping my voice even. “Rory won’t be attending either.”
Fraser’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “Oh?” He paused, dark eyes cold and assessing. “I have to say, I’m surprised you’re here.”
“Oh?” I mimicked. “And why is that? I’m simply here at my partner’s request.”
“Right. You’re here as Rory’s…partner.”
The way he emphasised the word made my teeth grind together. How much did he know? Was it possible he knew about Killigrew Street? About the true nature of our relationship—or rather, our lack of one?
“Yes,” I said firmly. “As his partner.”
Fraser nodded, that infuriating half smile still in place. “Of course. Well, enjoy your evening, Detective. I’m sure we’ll speak again soon.”
He turned and walked away, leaving me standing alone in the dining room. I scanned the space for Rory, but there was no sign of him. Alex and Isla had disappeared as well.
The remaining wolves cast occasional glances in my direction, their expressions ranging from curiosity to open hostility. Standing here alone was like being a wounded gazelle surrounded by lions.
I pulled my phone from my pocket when it vibrated in my hand.
Rory
Hey
Going on the run. It could be helpful. Will meet you back at the cottage in two hours, max. x
PS: Could you feed Freddy for me? I’ll try and bring him back a squirrel or something, but he’ll want some crackers.
PPS: Phone about to die. Soz.
My fingers tightened around the phone, fury rising like a tide. The utter fool was deliberately putting himself in danger, without so much as a discussion. For a moment, I considered tearing the manor apart room by room until I found him. But what then? Drag him out by his ear like a misbehaving child? Create a scene that would only further complicate our already precarious position? No. He’d made his choice.
The night air bit at my face as I stepped onto the manor’s stone terrace. Stars pricked the inky darkness above, seeming unnaturally bright this far from London’s light pollution.
“I’m going to fucking kill him,” I whisper-shouted at the stars, who twinkled back at me in sympathy.
Trees loomed on the path ahead of me, darker and more menacing without Rory’s presence beside me. Just perfect—abandoned to walk through the Scottish wilderness alone, surrounded by who-knows-what supernatural threats.
