Chapter 8

Anna

The apartment was finally quiet.

Ethan had been dropped off at school—backpack bouncing, superhero lunchbox in hand—and Anna had slipped into her usual weekday rhythm: laptop open, earbuds in, coffee half-drunk, and three emails behind.

She sat on the couch in leggings and a loose cardigan, eyes scanning a redlined agreement for an NDA she was reviewing. A contract that should’ve taken fifteen minutes was taking thirty—not because it was complicated, but because her mind kept drifting.

To last night.

To Michael.

To Ethan’s words.

“There are people outside.”

She tried to shake it, but it lingered in the corners of her thoughts like a fog.

A soft ding from her phone broke her focus.

Dawn.

Dawn:

You home or buried in work?

Anna smirked and sent a quick reply.

Anna:

Both.

Seconds later, Dawn was calling.

Anna answered on speaker, sipping her lukewarm coffee. “Don’t you have patients or something?”

“I don’t start until noon,” Dawn said, her voice chipper. “I’m easing into my glamorous new mental health professional lifestyle. You know, one where I pretend I have it all together while diagnosing people who actually do.”

Anna chuckled. “Living the dream.”

“Anyway,” Dawn continued, “I wanted to check in. You were quiet last night.”

Anna hesitated. “I didn’t sleep well.”

“Oh no. Is it Michael?”

“No,” she said quickly. “Yes. Sort of.”

Dawn paused. “Okay, you’re gonna need to elaborate, because you just checked all the boxes on the emotionally-confused-woman form.”

Anna sighed, rubbing her forehead. “I’m falling for him, Dawn.”

“I know you are. You get this dreamy look every time you say his name.”

“That’s the problem,” Anna said, voice lower now. “It’s too fast. Too intense. I feel like I want to be around him constantly. And the weird part? I don’t want to stop. Even when I try to hold back, I can’t. I’ve never felt like this for anyone.”

There was a long silence.

“…Okay, first of all,” Dawn said, “that’s not weird. That’s called chemistry. Or fate. Or hormones. Or maybe all three.”

“It’s more than that,” Anna whispered. “It’s like gravity. And then last night, when I got home…”

She told Dawn about Ethan. How he’d said there were people outside. How he’d looked scared—serious in a way most five-year-olds didn’t get.

Dawn’s mood shifted immediately.

“You don’t think he was just playing or heard the TV?” she asked carefully.

Anna shook her head, even though Dawn couldn’t see her. “No. He looked… certain.”

Dawn was quiet again, her voice gentler this time. “You think Michael has something to do with it?”

“I don’t want to believe that,” Anna said honestly. “He’s never made me feel unsafe. Ever. But something’s happening. I just don’t know what.”

Before Dawn could respond, there was a knock at the door.

Anna tensed. “Hold on.”

She muted the call, stood up, and peeked through the peephole.

Delivery.

She cracked the door open, and a man stood there in a black polo, holding a stunning bouquet of cream and blush-colored roses mixed with eucalyptus and wild greenery.

“Delivery for Anna Davenport,” he said with a professional smile.

“That’s me,” she said, signing for it and taking the arrangement.

Once the door was locked again, she set it on the kitchen counter and unfolded the small card tucked between the stems.

Anna,

Thinking about you today. Can’t wait to see you Thursday.

—Michael

Her breath caught in her chest.

He always knew just how to show up without crowding her. Just enough to make her feel like she wasn’t alone, but not so much it felt like a performance.

But why now?

She unmuted the call.

“Dawn?”

“Yeah?”

“He just sent me flowers.”

There was a beat.

“Well,” Dawn said slowly, “I think we’ve officially crossed into romance novel territory.”

Anna laughed softly, the tension easing a little.

But underneath it, something still twisted.

Because while Michael was becoming everything she never knew she wanted—

Something told her that she still didn’t know everything about him.

—————

Michael

The morning air outside the estate was crisp and still, but inside Michael’s study, the energy was far from calm.

David stood near the edge of the glass doors leading to the veranda, arms crossed, expression grim.

“Marcus reported subtle movement again last night,” he said. “No visuals. But he caught a faint trace—non-pack signature. Old magic. Disguised.”

Michael’s jaw tensed. “Still no ID?”

David shook his head. “But they’re skilled. Could be a scout. Could be something worse.”

Michael paced behind his desk, his wolf restless beneath his skin. “Anna and Ethan were inside?”

“All night. No breach. We kept distance. No disturbances reported.”

Still, it wasn’t enough.

Every day the bond grew stronger—so strong it felt like his instincts were operating on a delay unless he was near her. Last night, after dropping her off, that same ache returned—a pull in his chest that didn’t ease until he received her text.

Home safe. Thank you for tonight. And the flowers. You’re something else, Michael.

He’d read it twice. Then a third time. And still, it hadn’t eased the worry entirely.

“Double rotation through the weekend,” he ordered. “No lapses.”

David gave a nod. “Understood.”

There was a knock at the side door.

Lydia entered, holding a sealed cream envelope.

“This came from the Council,” she said, placing it on the desk. “Marked urgent.”

Michael’s eyes narrowed.

He didn’t open it right away. Instead, he stared at the envelope, his gut twisting—not from fear, but anticipation.

The wolves were stirring. The old world was watching.

And Anna still didn’t know what she’d stepped into.

But first—he’d take her out Thursday night. No shadows. No fear. Just her and him.

Even if it was the last peaceful moment they had.