Chapter 12

Alanza’s POV

“You okay, honey? You don’t look so good.”

My smile felt like a grimace. I hated that the cashier noticed me. My body was on fire, but the store air chilled me to the bone. I forced the words out. “Just a little under the weather. I’ll be fine.”

She was a shifter. I recognized the slight tension around her shoulders, the way she tracked movement in the aisle behind me. I had not seen her working here before.

I paid in cash. Tapping the card felt too risky, too traceable. That was a habit I needed to keep.

“Take care of yourself.” The cashier’s blue eyes were sharp. She still looked doubtful.

I nodded and pulled the plastic bag handle tight. Outside, the midday sun felt like a spotlight on my feverish skin. The walk home was worse than the trip here. My legs ached. Every single grocery item felt like a lead weight in the bag.

I had to stop on the corner, leaning against a rough brick wall. The heat rose off the street, making my vision swim. I put the bag down. My lungs burned with every breath. My throat was raw from a dry, hacking cough I could not seem to stop. I closed my eyes for a count of ten, gathering energy for the last block.

Focus. Just get inside.

A prickling sensation ran down my back. I felt watched. My paranoia, likely kicked up by the fever, pointed to the shifter cashier. I blinked and scanned the street. Nothing moved that shouldn't. No shadows, no cars slowing down. Still, the uneasy feeling lingered, heavy beneath the misery of the illness. I grabbed the bag and started shuffling again.

I stumbled through my apartment door. The relief was immediate, a wave of exhaustion that made my knees shake. I dropped the bag on the counter, barely registering the sound. Putting away the milk and eggs took every ounce of effort I had left. The bread could wait. The Tylenol I had bought was still in the bag.

Later.

I heated a can of chicken noodle soup. The scent of the broth was strong, but the thought of eating made my stomach turn. I forced down three spoonfuls, trying to ignore the nausea. My body needed fuel.

I walked to the couch. My whole body was shaking now. I wrapped the soft, thick blanket around myself. It did not help. I pulled the blanket higher. The floor felt safer, lower. My bones screamed at the movement. I settled on the cool wood.

The Tylenol. I should take the Tylenol.

The kitchen was ten feet away. It might as well have been a mile. I squeezed my eyes shut. I did not want to move. I needed to sleep. I needed the nightmares to stop.

They had been coming for four days now.

The dreams always started the same way. Running in a dark forest. Something crashed through the brush behind me, getting closer. I ran until the forest became jagged mountains, and the mountains became a sandy beach. I kept running. It did not matter where I was; the threat was always right at my heels.

Then came the wolf. Pure white fur with a patch of black on her tail. Blue eyes, bright and cold. She did not chase me. She just slipped from the shadows and stared.

That was the end. I always woke up in a sweat, sore, like I had actually run a marathon. Getting back to sleep was impossible. I showed up at the Novel Grind feeling worse every day.

The only bright spot in my new routine was the husky. The silver girl kept showing up at the shop, waiting patiently for Animal Control to pick her up. Cristian joked I should keep her. I just laughed it off. I could not raise a pet. Not when I always had a small part of me ready to pack the bags and run again.

By today, day four of the nightmares, the fever was a constant thing. It came and went, making me shiver one minute and sweat the next. I was out of money for an Urgent Care visit. Building this new life was expensive. I could not afford to get sicker.

A gentle rapping sound came from the door. Two soft knocks.

I froze.

I could not move. I did not want to move. I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders. The sound came again, three quick raps this time. A pause. Then a quiet voice called out.

“Alanza? You in there?”

It was Cristian. I groaned. I was not expecting anyone. My day off was supposed to be silent. I pushed the blanket down and tried to sit up. My head swam.

Just send him away.

“Yeah. Just a second.” My voice cracked. I sounded terrible.

I crawled to the sofa, using it to pull myself up. I stumbled to the door, checking the peephole. It was him. He held a small paper bag.

I unlocked the deadbolt and pulled the door open, keeping the chain lock in place. I leaned my head against the wood frame.

Cristian’s eyes widened. “Whoa. You look like death warmed over. Why didn’t you call in sick yesterday?”

“I’m fine.” I coughed, a deep, painful sound that proved I was lying. “It’s just a bug.”

“‘Just a bug’ that has you shaking like a leaf. I brought you something.” He held up the bag. “Chicken broth, the good kind, not that canned salt stuff. And ginger tea. My mom makes it whenever I get sick.”

My eyes watered from the effort of holding myself up. “You shouldn’t have. Seriously, I’m okay.”

He shook his head. “The girl who doesn't even use a card at the grocery store is not going to buy fancy broth. I know you, Alanza. Open the door.”

I hesitated. Let him in? He was a decent guy. He was only trying to help. But I had a rule: never let anyone see me vulnerable. Never let anyone close enough to know where I lived, not really.

“I can’t. I think it’s contagious. I don’t want you to get sick.” It was a weak excuse.

He stepped closer to the door, his face serious. “I’m a werewolf, Alanza. I don’t get sick from ‘bugs.’ Now, let me put this on your counter before you pass out and hit your head. I won’t stay long.”

My breath hitched. He knew I knew. It was the first time he had ever said it out loud. He was not just a shifter. He was a werewolf. And he was right. They did not get sick like humans did.

I let out a sigh of defeat. The thought of collapsing on the floor, alone, was worse than the risk of letting him see my messy apartment.

I slid the chain lock free. The door opened inward.

Cristian stepped inside, his eyes immediately scanning my face, not the room. He walked past me, placing the bag on the counter. He took one look at the half-eaten bowl of soup on my coffee table, then looked back at me.

“Seriously, your lips are blue. Did you take anything for the fever?”

I shook my head slowly. “I just bought Tylenol. It’s still in the grocery bag.”

He walked back to the counter, pulled the Tylenol out, and tossed it to me. He went to the sink and turned on the tap. “Get two down now. I’ll make you the tea. Sit down, before I have to catch you.”

I caught the bottle. The plastic felt cold against my palm. I stared at him. He was already fussing, a total stranger making himself at home in my safe space. I should be angry. I should tell him to leave.

Instead, I sat on the couch, the blanket pooling around my feet. The fear I carried, the constant worry of being hunted, felt small next to the pounding in my head and the bone-deep chill.

Cristian set a steaming mug of tea on the coffee table. He looked at me, his expression gentle.

“Drink this, then get into bed. You don’t have to run from a fever. You just have to sleep it off.”

I picked up the mug. The warmth felt good in my hands. I looked into his eyes, searching for a sign of anything but genuine care. I found nothing.

“Why are you here, Cristian?” I asked.

He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. He looked strong and completely in control, the opposite of how I felt.

“The silver husky showed up again this morning at the shop. She didn’t want to leave until the Animal Control guy dragged her away. I figured if the wolf is checking on you, maybe I should too.”

My heart stumbled in my chest. The wolf. He had no way of knowing about my dreams.

“That’s not funny,” I whispered.

He frowned. “I’m not trying to be funny. She looked worried, Alanza. You were not at work. I came to make sure you were okay.” He pushed off the wall and walked toward the door. “I’m leaving now. Call me if you need anything. Seriously. Even at three AM.”

He opened the door. He turned back just before stepping out. His gaze held mine.

“If I have to call your emergency contact to help you, are they going to be pissed that you haven’t called them in a year?”