Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

DAKOTA

T he clink of cutlery and the soft murmur of conversations formed the backdrop to Dakota's morning as she glided between the various cooking stations in the diner’s kitchen with practiced ease. Despite the warm interior, a chill skittered down her spine as the bell above the door jangled sharply. The scent of bitter anger and cheap cologne wafted in before he even crossed the threshold. Dakota's ex-fiancé, the shadow from her past, stood framed against the harsh light of day, his eyes scanning until they fixed on her.

"Surprised to see me, Dakota?" His voice was smooth, like whiskey over ice, but it held an edge that caused the room to still, eyes flicking to the unfolding drama.

She kept her back straight, her posture radiating a resilience forged from necessity. "You've no reason to be here," she said.

"Can't I just come in here for a piece of pie?" He smiled, but there was no warmth in his reptilian eyes. It was a predator's grin, one she knew all too well.

"Your games and threats won't work on me, not anymore," she said, staring at him through the window between the kitchen and the diner. Her hand tightened around the sauté pan’s handle, the stainless steel a cold comfort against her palm. How she wished it was her chef’s knife.

He stepped closer, invading her space as if he had the right. "Come on, Dakota, we were good together. You can't deny that."

As he reached for her arm, a glint caught his eye—the engagement ring adorning her finger, a symbol of a future he had no part in. The stone was a sparkling declaration, large and luminous, catching the weak sunlight that filtered through the dust-speckled window. It was a beacon of her newfound strength, a treasure compared to the trinkets he'd once given her.

"Looks expensive," he spat out the words, a venomous acknowledgment of defeat. "Guess you've moved up in the world without me."

Dakota felt something primal stir within her, the dormant power of her lineage awakening. She met his gaze head-on, her eyes unyielding. "I have," she confirmed, her voice imbued with a steely conviction. "And there's no place for you in it."

He took a step back, the air between them charged with the unsaid and the undone. The diner’s patrons watched, rapt, as an age-old battle of wills played out in silence. Several people she’d come to know stood up and started forward. She raised her hand to indicate she didn’t need their help but sent them a smile to let them know she appreciated the offer. Dakota was no longer the woman her fiancé had once controlled. She was something more, something elemental and untamed.

With a final scowl, he turned on his heel as if headed for the door, but then changed his mind and found his way to an empty booth. He plopped onto the seat like a sack being dropped on feed room floor. The tension broke like a snapped guitar string, leaving Dakota's heart pounding in the aftermath. She let herself feel the significance of their encounter, her skin tingling with suppressed energy.

But there were orders to cook and customers to tend to. She couldn’t afford the luxury of fear or the indulgence of victory—not yet. As she returned to her tasks, the sense of her inner wolf prowled restlessly beneath her skin, a whisper of moonlight and wildness ready to rise.

Dakota’s hand trembled ever so slightly as she gripped the edge of her chef’s knife. The diner's usual hum of casual conversation and clinking silverware played a discordant backdrop to the tension at the booth where he sat, his anger barely contained beneath the surface of his calculated charm.

Waving the waitress off, Dakota went to where he glowered. "Leave," she said, her voice low and laced with an authority he had never heard before. "Before I do something we'll both regret."

He sneered, the arrogance dripping from his lips like venom. But as he parted his mouth to retort, Dakota acted as swiftly as the pounce of a wolf on its downed prey. With a fluid motion born of suppressed rage and newfound power, she grabbed a full plate off the adjacent booth and upended it over his head. Gravy and mashed potatoes cascaded onto his lap in a hot, messy torrent.

"I’ll make you another—on the house,” she said to the customer.

“No need Dakota, it was worth it just to see that.”

Dakota grinned at him before turning back to her ex. “Consider this your last warning," Dakota intoned, her words slicing through the thick air with the sharpness of a silver blade. "Cause any more trouble, and it won't just be food staining your precious ego."

Silence reigned, punctuated only by the sizzle of the grill and the quiet gasps of onlookers. Then, with a scowl that could curdle blood, he stood, his pants soiled and pride wounded. Without another word, he skulked away, the door chiming a bitter farewell as he exited into the sun-scorched street.

Dakota watched him go, her heart hammering a wild rhythm against her ribs. Pride swelled within her chest, fierce and unyielding. She had faced the specter of her past and emerged victorious. Her fingers brushed the cool metal of the ring on her finger, a talisman of love and the promise of a future written in the stars.

She returned to her work, the mundane tasks of the rest of the day grounding her as she took orders and made food. But beneath the apron and polite smiles, Dakota felt the pulse of something deeper, a connection to the earth and moon that whispered secrets of power and destiny.

The copper sky had been replaced by a velvety darkness pierced with the light of the Texas stars as Dakota hefted the last bag of trash, the weight of it grounding her in reality after the strange encounter earlier. The back door of the diner creaked on its hinges, a familiar sound signaling the end of another long shift. She stepped out into the dusky quiet of the rear alley, her sneakers crushing the gravel beneath her feet.

But the solitude she expected was shattered when the cold press of metal kissed the tender skin at the base of her neck, and a harsh whisper sliced through the silence. "Don't make a sound, Dakota."

It was him—her ex—his presence a stark violation in a place that had become her refuge. His breath was hot against her ear, tainted with the bitterness of whiskey and fury. Every instinct screamed to fight, to unleash the primal force that churned within her veins, but the steel of the gun pressed against her warned of mortal consequences.

"Walk," he commanded, and she obeyed, her heart pounding a frantic beat. With each step, she felt the leash of her self-control fray, her inner she-wolf prowling and growling at the edge of her consciousness. It was a feral reminder of the raw power of the dire wolf lineage that surged through her, begging for release.

Yet, she let him guide her away from the safety of the diner, into the shadowed embrace of the alley. There was a part of her that reveled in this newfound strength, an exhilarating rush of confidence that came with the full force of her power. But the gun—the cold reminder of mortality—kept her in check.

"Where are we going?" Her voice was steady, betraying none of the turmoil that raged underneath.

"Shut up," he seethed, and she could sense his control unraveling, the precarious edge upon which he balanced.

Dakota reached out through the mystical bond that tethered her to Landon, the connection humming like a live wire between them. ‘Landon, I need you,’ she thought fiercely, even as she willed herself to handle the situation alone. The vulnerability of relying on someone else warred with the desire to prove her own strength.

She knew Landon would feel the urgency pulsing through the bonding link, the silent call to action. But she also knew that he was out on the ranch, and the danger to her was here and now. As they moved further into the alley's mouth, the inky darkness swallowing them whole, Dakota couldn't shake the concern that not even her superior DNA could stop a bullet.

Closing her eyes for an instant, she allowed herself to imagine the comforting weight of Landon's hand in hers, the warm assurance of his presence. His absence was a hollow ache within her chest, but it only served to stoke the flames of her resolve.

"Let me go," Dakota said, her words laced with a calm authority that belied the tempest brewing inside her.

"Like hell," he spat back, but there was a tremor in his voice—a crack in the facade that told her he recognized she was no longer the woman he once knew.

As they descended deeper into the alley's throat, the moon approached its zenith behind a cloud, surrendering the sky to a blanket of stars. Dakota's senses sharpened, attuned to the night and the whispers of power that flowed around her. She was a creature of moonlight and shadows, and she would not be cowed by the likes of her ex.

He shoved her into the car he had driven from Cimarron Mesa to Redstone—her grandfather’s beloved vintage Buick. We’ll see how this plays out. Her dark thoughts threading her mind with a dark promise and the seductive pull of the unknown.