Chapter 11

Alanza's POV

The Novel Grind

"It's about time I found you."

The new start I needed had to be far away. That's how I ended up in Cedarwood, a little town outside Spokane, Washington. I didn't plan it. I just panicked when I smelled shifters at the train station. A rideshare app and a random pin drop got me out of the city fast.

Now I lived in a storybook.

Cedarwood felt like a modern postcard. The main street, where I ended up, was all brick and quirky little shops. People walked everywhere because there was zero parking. They came for the charm, I guessed.

Two weeks later, I was still here. I was working at The Novel Grind, a bookshop that also sold coffee. Even better, I got the small apartment upstairs. My new boss used it for storage for years, so it was a mess of boxes. Still, it was mine. I loved it.

I still didn't know how I got so lucky. I hadn't smelled a single shifter since I arrived. Everyone said the Blue Storm Pack was easy on humans in their territory. The fear still lived in my stomach, though. It whispered that any day the Pack would find me. They would bang on the door, demanding to know why I hadn't checked in. I pushed the thought away. Future Alanza can handle that mess.

I hoped I smelled human enough to be safe.

The bell over the door jingled. Mrs. Elkins stepped inside. I looked up from shelving a book, a small smile already forming. Her presence always calmed me. She was so cheerful and round I sometimes thought she was married to Santa Claus.

"Good morning, Alanza," she said, her voice warm. Her eyes crinkled in the corners. "How are you today? Settling in alright?"

I nodded, my smile wider now. "I'm doing well, Mrs. Elkins. Thank you again for the job and the apartment. I really appreciate it."

She let out a soft, musical laugh. "Oh, Alanza, you don't have to thank me every day."

Heat rose in my cheeks. "I'm just grateful."

She walked closer and rested her hand over mine. The touch felt solid and kind. "The Novel Grind is a haven, Alanza. It's a place for those who feel like they don't quite fit."

My eyes stung. I blinked hard, trying to hide how much her simple words hurt. She had no idea how much of an outsider I really was.

"I want you to find your happiness here," she went on. She gestured toward the books that lined the walls. "Among the thousands of realities written in these pages. There are worlds of possibilities waiting for you."

I glanced around the shop. Every shelf held a different life, a different story. Maybe I could find my own story here too.

"Thank you, Mrs. Elkins," I said quietly. My voice felt tight. "I think I might." I rubbed the center of my chest. The familiar burn flared beneath my sternum. Nothing ever eased the pain, but the habit helped me focus.

She gave me a knowing look. "I have no doubt, my dear. No doubt at all. Now, tell me, is Cristian treating you well? He isn't hazing my new employee, is he?"

I choked back a laugh. I wiped the wetness from my eyes by adjusting my glasses. Cristian was my coworker. He was a few years older than me, funny, and always looked right at me when we talked. He treated me like an equal. It felt incredible.

"He's been great," I said, a genuine warmth in my voice. "He even helped me figure out night classes for the summer. Since I don't have a car yet, we worked out the logistics."

Mrs. Elkins patted my hand. The bell above the door jingled again. I stiffened, recognizing a familiar scent.

"That's great, dear. Excuse me." She pulled her hand back. "I'll take care of her. You finish with the books."

As Mrs. Elkins walked toward the customer, I kept them in view. I shelved books on autopilot. The female shifter just wanted coffee. She never glanced my way.

My tense shoulders finally relaxed. Of course. No one could have found me this fast. I covered my tracks well.

I shook my head, fighting off the paranoia. The customer left, and a sense of safety settled over me again. Cedarwood was safe.

I turned the key in the lock. The click marked the start of another day at The Novel Grind. Mrs. Elkins was already in one of the plush armchairs, reading a book. She was happy to let me handle the morning chores.

"Keep the door open, dear." She flipped a page and squinted through her bifocals. "An open door brings traffic. And it's such a nice morning."

The heavy wooden door fought me. It took all my strength to drag it open. I wondered how Mrs. Elkins had managed alone all these years. I finally found the right angle and jammed the doorstop in. Sweat beaded on my armpits.

I took a moment to breathe. The pine-fresh air felt cold in my lungs. The sun warmed my face. A soft whine caught my attention. I looked down.

A silver husky sat just outside the door. Its tail thumped gently against the sidewalk. Its eyes were a pale blue, almost white. They seemed to stare right through me. It was like they could see every secret I'd ever kept.

I laughed at the thought. It's just a dog, Alanza.

Still, I couldn't ignore the odd feeling. The husky's ice-blue eyes looked uncannily like mine. A little creepy. They definitely looked better on the dog.

"Does he have a collar?" Mrs. Elkins popped up from behind me. The silver-furred pup wagged its tail at the sight of her.

I stroked the husky's soft fur. A strange pull connected me to the animal. Its eyes seemed to bore into me, making my skin prickle. There was something more to this dog. I shook the feeling off. "No collar," I told Mrs. Elkins.

"Well, we can't have him wandering the streets," she said. She reached for the phone on the counter. "I'll call animal control. They can pick him up before someone hits him."

I hesitated, my fingers lingering on the silky fur. A part of me didn't want the dog to leave. I knew I couldn't keep him, though. I sighed. I scrubbed his fur a few more times with rough affection. "Sorry, buddy. I have to get back to work."

Mrs. Elkins was already dialing. "Did you see his eyes, though? He's a handsome boy. Looks like someone's been missing him, I bet."

I turned to wipe down the espresso machine. I was tired of thinking about that dog. I heard Mrs. Elkins speaking on the phone, giving the address.

"Excuse me," a voice said sharply. The scent of rain and old leather hit me. I spun around. A man in a dark jacket stood right inside the open doorway. The husky stood beside him, still wagging its tail. "Is this your dog?"

Mrs. Elkins paused her call. "No, sir. He just showed up. I was just calling to report him."

The man's eyes were dark, a deep brown. They scanned the room quickly, then landed on me. His expression was serious, almost angry. He wasn't smiling.

"He's mine," the man said. He bent down and clipped a leather leash onto the husky's collar. The collar was the same dark brown as his jacket, impossible to see before. "And he's not supposed to be here."

I stepped back, gripping the cleaning rag tight. Something felt wrong. My chest burned.

The man stood up straight. He looked at me again, his gaze intense. "If you see him again," he said, his voice low and firm. "Don't touch him."