7. Silas

SILAS

The sun is low in the sky as I crouch in the underbrush, my wolf form blending seamlessly with the twilight shadows. The cabin is just ahead, nestled in a small clearing. It"s a perfect hideaway—secluded, quiet, and far from prying eyes. My wolf stirs restlessly inside me, his instincts urging us to move closer, to get closer to the source of that intoxicating scent.

Mika.

She has the curtains drawn now. My wolf got a little too close while she was gathering firewood earlier. Idiot. We should've known better, but the sight of her—her scent—distracted us and she sensed us. She"s sharp, I"ll give her that. But she"s also scared out of her wits enough to cut off all her hair and dye it dark. And fear makes a person unpredictable.

From this distance, even with the curtains drawn, I can still see her moving about inside the cabin, her silhouette framed by the dim lights inside. My wolf"s senses are sharper than ever, and her scent—wild and sweet—carries on the breeze, making his hackles rise. It's a scent that feels achingly familiar, stirring memories of the mate who rejected us. But smelling that here doesn't make sense. This woman is human, and I don't have a mate.

My wolf whines softly, urging me to close the distance, to go to her and protect her. But my human side holds back. While both my wolf and I are in agreement that this Henry who hired us is likely someone she needs protecting from, rushing in now could frighten her. And the last thing I need is for her to bolt deeper into the wilderness. No, I need to gather more information, to understand her situation before making my move. I need to find a way to gain her trust, and rushing in there as a wolf isn't the way to do that. Sorry, buddy.

He whines. But quickly stops when she steps outside again, a steaming mug in her hand. She glances around nervously, her eyes scanning the treeline like a trapped animal looking for escape routes. My need to protect her only intensifies. But for now, I stay hidden, watching her every move.

Mika takes a careful sip from the mug, her breath visible in the cool evening air. She makes her way to a wooden chair on the porch, one that looks as if it's seen better days but still holds firm under her weight. She wraps a threadbare blanket around her shoulders and sinks into the chair with a sigh. The steam from her mug curls in the air, mingling with her breath, creating a hazy halo around her face.

I can smell the hot chocolate from here, the scent mingling with hers and making my wolf restless again. Calm down, I mental-whisper to him.

Mika sets the mug down on a small, rickety table beside the chair and pulls a small, leather-bound journal from the folds of her blanket, a pen tucked inside its pages. Her fingers trace over it before she opens it with care, as if it"s a precious relic. Mika"s hand shakes slightly as she begins to write, but then she seems to relax into it, her pen scratching against the paper at an urgent, almost frantic pace.

She's pouring her soul onto those pages, and it's like watching someone bleed but in ink. Every stroke of her pen draws me in deeper, making me want to know every secret she"s hiding. The urge to go to her, to comfort her, to read what's on those pages pushes against my restraint. Easy, I remind myself.

After a while, she finishes her drink and closes the journal with a sigh. Her eyes linger on the horizon, a faraway look clouding their sharpness. I know that look. It"s the gaze of someone searching for something lost, maybe hope, maybe a way out. The more I watch her, the more I realize how damn tough she must be to survive whatever Henry did to make her feel this was her way out.

I should leave her be, give her space. But hell, the more I stare at her, the harder it gets to ignore this pull. Like gravity or some shit. God, I"m a mess.

She glances around one last time before standing up, stretching, and heading back inside. I flinch forward slightly when the journal slips from her lap, falling silently onto the porch. She pauses, possibly listen to the sounds of the brush I just disturbed. But then she just heads inside and she closes the door behind her, leaving the journal behind. I need it. Not only because I want to read her thoughts, but because I need to know how to protect her from whatever nightmare is hounding her.

I wait, count to ten, and then another ten just for good measure before slipping out of my hiding spot and quietly transforming back into my human form. The shift is smooth, practiced, and in seconds I'm standing naked in the shadows. Creeping around outside a frightened woman's cabin in nothing but my birthday suit isn't ideal. But I need my hands to pick up the journal, since my wolf will probably puncture the pages and cover the whole thing in drool.

I take a deep breath, feeling the crisp air bite at my skin, but I don't focus on the cold. My eyes are locked on that small leather-bound book like it's a lifeline. This might be my only chance to understand her, to get inside her head without scaring her off. Silas, you gotta be slick about this.

The wooden boards creak under my weight as I step onto the porch. Damn it, Silas, quiet. The book is just inches away now, and my fingertips tingle, yearning to grasp it and uncover whatever secrets Mika has scribbled inside. But just as I as my fingers brush the edges of it, I hear her talk to herself from inside the cabin.

"Where did I put my journal?" Shit.

I freeze, the journal barely in my grasp. I can almost see my own reflection in her window, a naked idiot caught in the act. If she looks outside now, game over. I can't let her find me here like this.

Quickly, I shift back into my wolf form, the shift complete just in time for the door to swing open.

Mika steps out, her eyes scanning the porch. Her gaze lands on me, a big black wolf now, standing there like I own the place. Play it cool, Silas, I tell myself.

She sucks in her breath and we bother just stand there, frozen, staring at each other. "G-good boy," she whispers, her voice shaking with fear. "You're not gonna e-eat me, r-right?"

I tilt my wolfy head to the side, trying to look as non-threatening as a massive black wolf can. ‘Good boy,' huh? Well, if that"s what it takes, I can play along. I lower myself onto my haunches, wagging my tail slightly. Maybe she'll just think I"m some lost dog, despite the fact that I look like I could take down a bear. Her eyes soften just a bit, and she takes a tentative step closer.

"OK, OK...I'm fine if you wanna stay there. Just…don"t move," she murmurs. Yeah, like I"m gonna go anywhere with that journal still sitting there.

She steps toward me cautiously, eyes flicking between me and the journal. What the hell? Are you seriously going to try to pick that up right now? I can hear her heart pounding like a drum, fear and curiosity battling for dominance.

"Please. I just need…" She reaches out a toe and tries to drag the journal toward herself. With her this close, her scent feels almost drug-like and I'm struggling to keep my wolf's instinct under control, which is how he ends up lowering his head and letting out a soft whine as he nudges the fallen journal toward her with his nose. What the hell? We need that!

Understanding dawns in her eyes, and she hesitantly reaches down to pick up the journal. And my wolf takes that opportunity to flick his tongue out and lick the backs of her fingers. Fuck. I've lost control.

She jumps back, eyes wide, like she's just touched a live wire. "Holy—!" Her voice is a whisper, more to herself than to me.

But here's the kicker: instead of bolting, she laughs. It's this soft, incredulous sound that makes my wolf"s ears perk up. "You're something else, aren't you?" she whispers, almost like she knows she's talking to a person and not just a massive wolf.

I continue to just look at her, and she pulls that bottom lip of her in between her teeth and clutches the journal to her chest like it's a shield.

"I'll tell you what," she continues, her voice still in that low whisper. "If you can let me take a couple of steps until I'm back inside, then I'm OK if you decide to sleep up here or whatever it is wolves like to do on porches. And maybe if you're a good wolf—oh gosh, why am I talking to this thing like it understands?" That last part is said to herself before she shakes her head slightly. And I can"t help it. A rumbling chuckle escapes my wolf throat, and she freezes for a moment before squinting at me.

"Did you just laugh?" Her voice is half suspicion, half amusement. "Are wolves even supposed to laugh?" Oh shit.

That's when I take a step back, turning around and running into the brush. I can feel her eyes on me as I disappear into the shadows of the forest. My heart is pounding, the excitement and confusion surging through me like an electric current. Silas, you idiot. I can't believe I just lost control of my wolf—of myself as well—and did that. I need to be more careful.

I shift back to my human form once I'm deep enough into the woods, pulling out the clothes I stashed behind a thick oak tree earlier. Then I wait a beat before walking back to her cabin so I can keep watch during the night. I'd prefer to be doing this in my wolf form, but he just proved he can't be trusted. And Mika, well, she just proved she"s way tougher and more fascinating than I gave her credit for. That could have gone a hell of a lot worse.