2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Eyes followed her in the darkness.

The woman in the firetruck red coat stuffed her hands in her pockets, desperate for a reprieve from the brisk February chill. Snow-encrusted boots plodded on the icy pavement as Eden Hawthorne swiftly made her way home.

Her small apartment was a haven two floors above a flower shop. As picturesque as it had sounded, it'd also been the only space a penny-pinching scholar could afford without having to share with another. And because this was Chicago, the exorbitant rent still had her skirting the poverty line.

Her breath misted in the air as she readjusted the heavy laptop bag against her hip.

While she could walk all the way around the remaining two blocks until home—and had many times—the slim alleyway between buildings would be shorter. Eden grimaced. In good weather, she didn't mind the extra distance, but it was frigid outside, and her feet ached. It was a shortcut kind of night.

She strode into the dark space, her movements betraying her apprehension. Every nook and cranny became fodder for her imagination, and she couldn't stop from creating a detailed escape plan for any danger that might come her way.

Eden had always been a planner. As she walked through the alleyway, her hypervigilant ways came screaming back into focus. She calculated exactly how to evade a robber that might be hiding behind the dumpster or dodge a stray bullet from a drive by that might come whizzing her way.

In the dark, each shadow screamed danger. As she approached the end of the forgotten path, the tension ebbed from her weary shoulders.

An errant howl whispered over the Windy City.

Pausing abruptly mid-step, Eden accidentally let the bag slip from her shoulder, causing it to tumble into the slush at her feet. Her laptop would be safe inside the waterproof compartment, but her papers were most likely ruined.

An already long day had just become longer. All she wanted was the comfort of her wingback chair, a fuzzy fleece blanket, and a steaming cup of hot chocolate. Eden scowled as she slung the muddy leather strap across her chest and took one step forward.

And froze.

There, standing before her, was a wolf. Eden tried to blame her tired eyes for the impossible threat that was less than thirty feet away. This was one scenario she hadn't planned for.

The sheer size of the animal instantly disqualified it from being a dog. Even the largest of canines bore no resemblance to the one in front of her. The animal's angular features, refined into a wild silhouette that was impossible to mistake, were backlit by the streetlights. Pitch-black fur, matted and mangy, roughed over the huge frame. The wolf's mouth opened to reveal stained yellow teeth, tinged blue in the darkness. It seemed surreal, but his eyes glowed.

The overwhelming urge to bolt skittered through her, but her fear-locked legs wouldn't comply. Even her lungs refused to draw in breath. She couldn't outrun the creature. There was no doorway nearby, and she had nothing to defend herself with. Her mind raced back through the brief research she'd done on wild wolves, and the only thing she could remember was that she should maintain eye contact.

That was when the wolf began to stalk her like prey.

When a growl loosened from its throat, adrenaline kicked into Eden's system, releasing her from the panic response. Scrambling backwards, uncoordinated and lurching, she focused on the animal coming at her.

In three strides, the wolf launched itself into the air, its jaws open and aimed at her throat. On instinct, Eden's forearm came up to defend herself as the massive animal slammed into her like a freight train. It knocked the wind out of her on impact. Unable to scream, she could do nothing as the weight of the wolf pushed her backward into the ground.

Devastating pressure locked like a vice around her forearm as fangs seared into the skin beneath her peacoat. The beast had pinned her to the ground, and all she could think was how she'd die even earlier than she'd expected.

With a yelp, the weight left her.

Eden's arms and legs were suddenly scrambling toward the shadow behind a dumpster she'd spied earlier. The sounds of fighting erupted behind her, but she didn't turn back to look. Her heavy laptop bag, still slung across her chest, yanked her off kilter, but she recognized it for what it was: her only weapon.

Spinning, her back hit the brick wall. A man wielding some type of axe was attempting to kill the wolf, but the beast was fast and quickly joined by another. When the first animal launched itself into the air, the man buried his axe in its neck, but the new arrival took advantage.

Its foaming jaws snapped around the man's leg, yanking him off balance. He went down hard, landing on the icy pavement with a grunt.

Eden didn't even think; she leapt up from her crouch and raced toward them. She grabbed her bag and swung it like a baseball bat directly into the wolf's head. The sickening sound of it connecting with flesh ricocheted through the alley.

The fallen man didn't miss the opportunity. In a move too quick to track, the man had ended the beast's life before Eden could even gasp. All she could do was stare at the dead wolf lying still at her feet.

Her fingers shook, whether from adrenaline or cold she couldn't tell, as they clenched into the supple leather of the bag. Eden's breath came in gulps now, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stifle the ragged gasps.

"Are you okay?"

Too fixated on how near she'd come to death, she mutely nodded, trying to think over the rush of adrenaline in her ears. The man wasn't dressed in a recognizable uniform, had no police or army designations, but his clothes did seem to be a type of armor-reinforced safety gear to her untrained eyes. Whoever he was, the stranger had saved her life, and she needed to thank him properly. The moment their eyes met, his widened.

He had the bone structure of a Greek god and looked at her like she was a phantasm. Golden-brown skin, with no trace of a blemish or wrinkle, hinted at a Pacific Islands ancestry. Dark chocolate hair, shorn into a short faux hawk, played off against a sharp jaw without a single trace of scruff. His eyes were kind, as though he'd never spoken a foul word or broken someone's heart. Eden could've stared into that mesmerizing brown gaze for days without a break. He was undoubtedly the most attractive guy she'd ever seen.

Someone yelled out ‘All clear' outside the alley, startling her from her reverie.

"Thank you," she said. "For saving me."

He blinked.

"Did you … hit your head? Are you okay?"

" You . You're—" He cleared his throat, flustered. "I'm fine. I didn't hit my head. And I'm happy you're alright. You aren't injured, aren't you?"

Eden glanced down at her soiled coat and laptop bag. "I don't think I'm any worse for wear. But that wolf looked like it took a chunk out of your leg."

"Yeah, I definitely was a chew toy for a minute there. Fortunately, a briefcase-wielding Samurai came to my rescue. You took him out like a pro."

Nervous laughter bubbled out of her, underscored by the bone-deep shivers that racked her frame. Across from her, the stranger's concern pulled his eyebrows together.

"Hey, it's okay. It's the adrenaline surge after shock. Just breathe through it, I promise it helps. And before you tell me you don't usually do breath exercises with strangers, I'm Nero."

The stranger extended his arm toward her, as if he wanted to support her, a sort of yearning hope on his face. If her fear response hadn't drained all the blood from her face, she would've blushed.

"I'm Eden."

The sound of another growl broke them out of their introductions, and Nero spun so quickly that she stiffened. At the mouth of the alley, another wolf had appeared, but it was already being surrounded and captured by a pair of men in the same sort of gear her rescuer was wearing.

"What's going on?" Eden asked. "Why were there wolves just running around Chicago? Are you guys from the Wildlife Service?"

Nero cast a look back at her over his shoulder. "The box truck moving them from zoo to zoo was accidentally opened. Total freak accident."

Before she could question the explanation, one of the other men called out, "All clear, Nero! Do we have … clean up?"

"No— no," Nero reiterated. Then, he turned around to face her. "Do you live around here? How far are you from safety?"

"I'm just down the block."

Eden refrained from pointing to where her apartment was. Even though he'd saved her life, she wasn't about to show any axe-carrying stranger where she lived.

"Are there any more wolves out here?"

"We've taken care of all of them," he grimaced, "but I feel like I should walk you home."

"You're … carrying an axe."

She pointed one accusatory finger at the weapon, which he immediately tried to hide behind his back with a bashful smile.

"All the better to protect you with!" With a chuckle that was a little forced, he added, "Can I see you tomorrow to make sure you're alright?"

She mulled through the possibility. He was the literal stranger danger people warned about: someone she met in a dark, risky alleyway, and who had hacked two wolves to death with a wild-looking weapon and given a not completely convincing explanation for all of it. And yet, Nero had saved her life tonight and been nothing but sweet to her.

A part of her was flattered that the most handsome man she'd ever seen wanted to see her again—if only to ensure she was unharmed. She could meet him somewhere public, where she'd be surrounded by other people. The risk was minimal. She'd take her taser.

"Tomorrow, I'll be lecturing at the University of Chicago. One p.m., in the Cobb Lecture Hall." Eden gave him a smile. "You can check up on me there if you'd like."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, Eden."

Something about the way he said it made her realize he was speaking the truth. There was a genuine concern and interest in his gaze, and she found it flattering. It had been too long since anyone other than doctors or nurses had paid any attention to her.

"Good. I'll see you then."

Without looking back, she strode to the front of the alley, still feeling slightly off balance with the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

When she finally made it to the street, she was surprised there wasn't a group of media or onlookers gathered nearby. The only sign that there had been any issue at all were the men standing near a box truck.

Distractedly, she glanced down the street, wondering if she'd imagined the entire episode. One glance at her arm assured her there had been no mistake. The red material was torn along her forearm, the unmistakable sheen of blood dappling the frayed edges.

The flower shop's electric lights welcomed her home. Relief flooded her. Hastily, she fumbled for the outer door key and shuffled inside, swiftly securing the lock behind her to seal herself into safety.

For a moment, she simply rested in the hallway, taking comfort in the small space. A headache pulsed between her temples, a subtle reminder she didn't dare to dwell on. Car honks and street noise, though muffled, continued to stream in, a symphony that always soothed her.

She made her way upstairs, the sound of her cat's meows accompanying her steps and banishing some of the terror she'd held since the attack.

With a very practiced move, she shoved her foot into the space at the bottom of the apartment's door as it opened, shooing Marianne out of the way as she sidled inside. A chorus of welcoming yowls assaulted her ears, but Eden couldn't stall to give her cat the obligatory scratch.

She put the battered laptop bag on a chair, gingerly pried open her peacoat's buttons, and then shrugged off the soiled coat.

Eden grabbed the small first aid kit that lived in a nook above the ancient refrigerator in her shabby kitchen and flipped on the lights in the telephone-booth-sized bathroom. It was the only space in her five-hundred-square-foot apartment that had been recently updated, and the bright lights helped her focus on the task at hand.

Carefully, she edged the sleeve up to expose her injured forearm and sighed in relief.

Only three puncture wounds marred her ivory skin. Two smaller indents bracketed the larger one, and she guessed the middle one had come from the wolf's fang. Grimacing, Eden uncapped the small bottle of hydrogen peroxide and refocused. It sizzled and foamed as she poured it over the wounds. When she visited her doctor tomorrow morning, she'd ask for a rabies vaccine, just to be on the safe side. Not much sense in rushing; her days were already numbered.

Eden patted a clean face towel over the welling blood, applied a spot of Neosporin, then pressed a boxy square of gauze and self-adhering flexible bandage on the arm.

The pain had already started to recede. She toed off her muddy boots and left them abandoned by the door, then stripped off her soiled pantsuit in the bedroom. Craving privacy, she untied her whimsical white curtains, letting them drape softly against the windowpane with its spider-web crack.

She was too beaten up by the day she'd just had to contemplate a shower. Figuring out how to protect her new bandage from the water, then dry her hair and go through all the other feminine rituals that formed her evening routine sounded exhausting. She'd undoubtedly rue that decision in the morning.

Eden had wanted to recreate the atmosphere of a relaxing retreat in her apartment. She decorated the space with flowers and hanging plants, the soft lighting doing a lot of favors to the woefully dated kitchen and the bedroom that couldn't fit much more than her bed and a small IKEA nightstand. Hundreds of books were stuffed into her two small bookshelves, the authors ranging from Bram Stoker to Mary Shelley and Anne Rice. Her favorites, folklore and scholarly literature about the Gothic revolution, were on the middle shelves. Every book in her personal library was cherished and well-loved, and some were decades or centuries old.

The largest wall in her apartment, right behind the couch held up at one end with textbooks, was filled with picture frames of adventures she'd had and of people she loved. Few of those people had remained in her life after she'd been diagnosed. It still hurt, but Eden had decided long ago to not focus on things she couldn't control. No glance was spared on the small army of pill bottles sitting in a closed wicker box on the marble coffee table.

She grabbed her favorite twenty-four-ounce mug from the kitchen and turned the kettle on. It was going to be a two-packets-of-hot-chocolate kind of night, moderation be damned. As she was about to settle into her wing-back chair with her drink, she changed her mind and went back to her cupboards. A giant pink marshmallow joined the chocolatey froth, for good measure. If that wouldn't keep the tears at bay, nothing would.

Carpe diem had become Eden's life motto as soon as she had received her diagnosis. She would seize every day and make memories in an effort to fill the time she had left with meaning. Today had tested that resolve, although she wasn't going to forget what happened any time soon.

She was safe now. Eden could leave the cruelty of her situation behind. There was peace in her sanctuary. A cup of perfectly made hot chocolate, a warm blanket, and a good book could keep the world at bay. Closing the apartment door meant closing out the thoughts that poisoned her future.

She enjoyed every sip of the hot chocolatey goodness, savoring it as something special and crucially important to her mental health. Letting the stress and tension fall off her shoulders, she recentered herself in the small nuances of a restorative night.

The gigantic, cinnamon colored fluff ball that claimed sovereignty of Eden's small apartment leapt onto her blanketed lap. It was odd behavior for Marianne, and Eden frowned at her. Her Feline Majesty blinked innocently back.

The moment was quickly disrupted by the sound of sirens. Though they sounded as though they were coming from downstairs, no flashing lights illuminated the street below. Eden took another look, shimmying closer to the window seat. After waiting for what seemed an eternity, the police car finally came into view, three blocks over.

She watched as it swiftly made its way down the rapidly clearing street, then pulled a left turn a block away and disappeared from view.

Everything about tonight had felt odd. When Eden snuggled into her chair and downed the rest of her hot chocolate, she felt no regret over falling asleep to the subtle purr of her cat.