Chapter 12 - Zane

The apartment is too quiet. The kind of silence that gets under your skin, makes you restless. Every tick of the clock feels like a countdown to something we can’t yet know.

I’m leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching Maisie from across the room as she fidgets on the couch, her fingers tracing patterns on her knees. Her hair’s pulled back into a loose bun, and she’s still wearing that sweater she slipped into earlier. Dark, soft. It swallows her whole.

I can’t stop staring at her.

We haven’t said much since the package arrived.

The fake bomb.

It was meant to rattle us. Throw us off. I recognized the signs as soon as Keira called, her voice calm but carrying the urgency of a warning. Do not react. Do not break cover.

Easier said than done, but it’s what we trained for. The Haverwood pack is testing us, waiting to see if we’ll slip up. If we relocate now, they’ll know. And then it’s game over.

I glance at Maisie. She hasn’t asked for details yet, but I know her well enough to see the fear simmering beneath the surface. She’s been quiet since she found the package, and it bothers me. Not because she’s scared but because I don’t know how to help. I don’t know if I even can.

Keira’s words loop in my head: Stick to the cover. Ordinary people wouldn’t react. Ordinary people wouldn’t have even seen it for what it was.

They’re trying to smoke you out.

"Ordinary people." Maisie’s soft voice cuts through the silence, as if she’s reading my mind. She’s been staring at the window, her reflection ghostly in the fading light. “Do you think they’re watching us now?”

I push off the counter and walk toward her, keeping my steps slow and measured. I don’t know how Maisie pulls this out of me, but somehow, she always does.

I settle on the edge of the armchair across from her, leaning forward, elbows resting on my knees.

"Probably," I admit. No use sugarcoating it. She deserves the truth, even if it’s ugly. "They want to see if we’ll crack. See how far they can push us."

She presses her lips together, her eyes still fixed on the window. “I don’t know if I’m cut out for this, Zane.”

I’m not sure what to say to that. “You’re doing fine.”

She meets my gaze, her expression pinched with doubt. “I don’t feel fine.”

I take a breath, considering my next words carefully. I’m not good at this. I’ve never had to be. But there’s no hiding from her.

“You’ve made it this far,” I say quietly. “And you’re still standing. You’ll get through this, too.”

Her shoulders tense, and for a second, I wonder if I said the wrong thing. Then she lets out a slow breath, her posture easing just slightly.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if it had been real,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just kept thinking about it… what if that thing had exploded?”

“It wasn’t real.” My voice comes out sharper than I intended, and I curse myself for it. “They wanted to scare us. That’s all it was.”

Maisie nods, but I can tell she’s still shaken. Her fingers twist together in her lap, her knuckles pale. I reach out without thinking, my hand hovering just over hers. I hesitate for a second, but then I let my hand drop back to my side.

No use blurring the lines.

“They’re watching us to see if we’ll run,” I remind her, my voice low. “We can’t give them that.”

She looks down at her lap, and something shifts in her eyes. There’s a flicker of something, maybe relief, maybe something else entirely. Whatever it is, it’s gone just as quickly, replaced by that familiar nervous energy.

“You’re right,” she says, pulling her hand back toward herself almost too quickly. “We can’t give them that.”

The distance returns just like that.

The space between us grows cold. I stand, pushing the moment aside, and walk back to the kitchen, the steady rhythm of my footsteps filling the silence again.

“Keira said we need to stick to the cover story. Keep pretending we’re just a normal, wealthy couple. No one can know we’re from Rosecreek, for our safety, theirs, and the future of the mission. Potentially the future of all shifters in southern Minnesota.”

Maisie nods, but there’s something fragile in her voice as she says, “I know, Zane.”

I open the fridge, staring blankly at the contents, not really seeing anything. “It’s what we’ve been doing this whole time.”

“I know.” I hear the tremor in her voice.

I grab a bottle of water and twist the cap off, taking a long drink. “It’ll be fine.”

She’s silent. Then, I hear her stand and break for the door. I call her name but she doesn’t stop, leaving me alone in the kitchen, staring after her as she vanishes from the condo.

Her footsteps pound up the stairs toward the roof. She probably wants some privacy. Some space from me.

My fingers tighten around the bottle in my hand until the plastic crumples beneath the pressure.

I could let her go. Give her the space she clearly needs. But something gnaws at me, an instinct I can’t ignore. The unease that’s been crawling under my skin since that package arrived refuses to settle.

We’re being watched. She’s vulnerable up there, alone in the open.

With a heavy sigh, I set the bottle on the counter and follow her, moving swiftly through the hallway and up the stairs. My pulse quickens the higher I go. I hate this feeling, this uncertainty. I hate that since the moment we kissed on the shores of the lake, I haven’t felt like myself even once. I watch myself every day like a stranger.

When I reach the rooftop, the cool night air hits me, sharp and fresh. The sky above is vast and dark, littered with stars. It’s quiet up here, away from the city’s hum below.

And there, at the edge of the roof, sitting with her knees pulled to her chest, is Maisie.

She doesn’t notice me at first. She’s staring up at the sky, lost in her thoughts, her body tense as if she’s trying to hold herself together. I’ve never seen her like this; she looks so fragile, so untethered.

I approach slowly, careful not to startle her.

“Maisie,” I say softly, my voice barely more than a whisper.

She flinches, then looks over her shoulder at me. Her eyes are wide, reflecting the moonlight. For a moment, she doesn’t say anything, and I almost wonder if she’s going to tell me to leave. But then she sighs, her shoulders slumping, and looks back up at the sky.

“I just needed to breathe,” she says quietly, her voice hollow. “I couldn’t... I couldn’t stay in there.”

I step closer, feeling the tension in the air between us. “I get it.” I’m sorry, I wish I could say, but I can’t, and we both know I can’t.

She doesn’t respond. I sit down beside her, keeping a little distance, but not so much that it feels like we’re strangers. I can feel her anxiety, the way her body is tightly wound, ready to snap at any moment.

For a while, we just sit there, the silence between us thick and heavy. The night stretches out around us, a vast expanse of darkness and stars. The city below feels distant, like it’s part of another world. Up here, it’s just the two of us.

I glance at her, at the way the moonlight catches on her face. It makes her look just like she did that first night. She had been nervous then, too, unsure of her place in the world of the pack, just like I was. But there had been a fire in her, a quiet determination that I’d always admired, even if I didn’t say it out loud.

Now, though... she just looks lost.

“You’re not alone in this, you know,” I say before I can stop myself, keeping my voice soft. “We’re a team.”

Maisie lets out a shaky breath, her head tilting just slightly in my direction. “I know. You don’t have to remind me. I promise.”

Streetlights shimmer far below us, spots of impossible light in the darkness. I stare at the high-rise opposite us and wonder about surveillance.

Then, I stare at Maisie and wonder about what it might be like to have her forever.

Maisie turns her head toward me, her eyes shining in the moonlight. There’s something raw in her gaze, something that makes my pulse quicken. She looks at me like she’s searching for something—reassurance, maybe. I don’t know.

“Just in case they’re watching,” I murmur, my voice low, barely audible in the quiet night.

She blinks, confused. “What?”

“We have to keep up the act,” I say, my heart thudding in my chest. “Even up here. Just in case.”

I don’t know why I say it. Maybe it’s an excuse, a way to justify what I’m about to do. Maybe it’s just because I don’t want her to feel so alone.

Either way, I find myself leaning in, closing the space between us.

Her eyes widen as I tilt my head, my lips brushing hers. It’s soft, barely a kiss at all, just a whisper of contact. Her warm breath stutters against my lips, and she doesn’t lean away. I push my lips gently to hers, and her hand skitters out to touch mine at my side.

Just as quickly as the kiss begins, it ends.

I pull back, my heart racing, suddenly unsure of what I’ve done. Maisie’s eyes are wide, her lips parted in shock.

We stare at each other, the silence between us deafening. Far below, impossibly far from our quiet little world up here, sirens wail into the night.