Page 47 of A Wolf’s Wound

Ryder

It’s been a long day, but for the first time in a while I feel like I’m making progress. I probably shouldn’t feel this way. We still haven’t figured out who Creepy Man is or made any headway in finding out who left the notes.

The newcomers to Stonehaven that I’ve talked to have all been incredibly nice and kind, which is good for the overall health of the city but bad from an investigatory standpoint. It would have been nice if the first person I’d talked to had obviously been the stalker. Or even the fifth person.

My brothers are reporting the same thing from the newcomers they’ve talked to.

And none of our patrols have turned up any clues or leads.

But at least none of us have turned up any new bodies either.

Or any more notes. Which is kind of a relief although I have to admit, all this waiting is making me edgy.

Still, as I drive back to the cottage, I find that I’m feeling hopeful. I feel like there is an endpoint to all of this mayhem and fear. Like sooner rather than later, life will go back to normal.

I hope that that normal life will give me and Hannah a chance to figure out what we are to each other. Every night I think tonight will be the night we talk. And every night I end up falling asleep instantly, and then having to leave for patrol before she’s awake.

“Tonight will be different,” I promise myself as I park next to the cottage.

“Tonight, we’ll talk.” I think about making dinner for us, asking my mom to bring over some of the nice dishes from the main house.

Maybe a few candles too. Or maybe we’ll eat outside and take advantage of the nice weather and the lingering sun.

But I can tell as soon as I unlock the door that the cottage is empty. I go straight to the kitchen and see a note lying on the table. My pulse immediately quickens. Has the stalker somehow gained access to the cottage?

Then I breathe a sigh of relief as I see that this note is handwritten, not typed. I skim it quickly to reassure myself that it really was left by Hannah, but the more I read, the more worried I become. Then I read it a second time more carefully, and realize that Hannah could be in danger again.

“Dammit!” I swear.

I rush outside and find a guard in the side yard. “Did you see Hannah?” I ask him.

“No,” he says. “I haven’t seen anyone enter or leave the cottage.”

“Then you missed something!” I roar in frustration.

“I’m sorry,” the guard says nervously. “What happened?”

“What happened is that Hannah left,” I growl. “Hannah and Shadow went to the city earlier and you didn’t stop them! No one stopped them!”

I whirl around, not wanting to take out my anger on the guard. He’s far from the only one around, after all. This isn’t all his fault. I don’t know why the other guards missed Hannah leaving; I don’t know why no one stopped her.

But I also know Evan was right with his stupid non-joke the other night.

We shouldn’t have decreased patrols in the forest. If we’d had more guards there, we would have known about the injured animals firsthand and dealt with the situation then.

And maybe we could have even seen who was attacking them.

So I can’t put all of the blame on this guard or any other guard. Some of the blame has to fall on my shoulders. I approved of the plan to draw down the forest guards; I also thought the forest was safe. I should have known better and insisted that we keep the patrols just as frequent as ever.

“Please go and get my brothers and parents,” I say in a tightly controlled voice.

“Tell them to come to the cottage immediately. Tell them Hannah is gone and that she went back to Stonehaven, to the vet clinic, to treat badly injured animals.” This will save me having to catch everyone up, and we can jump right into figuring out how to best protect Hannah.

“Right away,” the guard gasps.

I hear him rush off. I slowly walk back inside. I pick up Hannah’s note and read it again, imagining her standing here, writing it.

I’m glad she left the note. That gives me some sense of security, that I know she was taking her safety at least somewhat seriously. It makes me think that she really will just go to the clinic, work as quickly as possible, and come back to the cottage.

I reread the part about trying to call me, and pull out my phone. Sure enough I see a missed call from her from two hours earlier.

I groan. I’d turned my ringer off when I was on patrol earlier, which seemed like a good idea at the time. But now I realize I should have ensured that Hannah always had a way to reach me.

If she had, maybe I could have talked her out of going to the clinic. Told her that we’d find another vet, someone who could perform the operations these animals need. Or told her to take a couple of guards with her, at least.

And then I would have heard her voice, I think, as a wave of fear crashes over me. What if the stalker is waiting for her? What if this time the Creepy Man doesn’t run away? What if I’ve already heard her voice for the last time?

“Stop it,” I tell myself sternly. “She’s at the clinic. She’ll keep the doors locked and come back as soon as she can.” But I can’t calm myself down.

I pick up the phone and call the clinic. Maybe Melinda’s at the desk and can at least tell me how much longer Hannah will be. But the phone just rings and rings. Finally, I hang up.

Unable to stay still, I pace around the cottage, ending up in the bedroom. Hannah made the bed this morning, like she always does. I smile despite myself, at how neat and organized she is. She even straightened up Shadow’s nest on the floor, a Sisyphean task if there ever was one.

I sit down and stare at her bag lying empty in the corner. At least I know she’s planning on coming back. That’s something, right?

But it’s not enough. I know that. I should have told Hannah how I felt days ago. I should have done it the night we made love. I should have told her how I really feel about her. She deserves to know.

What if it’s too late? The thought that I might have missed my chance makes me feel physically sick.

All this time I’ve been afraid that she doesn’t feel the same way.

I let that fear keep me quiet. I convinced myself that I could wait and get a better idea of how she felt.

I told myself not to go out on a limb, not to risk the humiliation of her saying she didn’t feel the same way.

I see now how foolish and cowardly I was. So what if she doesn’t feel the same way? I can live with that. It will hurt and I’ll be wrecked, but I can live with it. As long as I know Hannah is alive and safe, I can withstand any humiliation and pain that might come my way.

I wish I’d gotten over myself sooner. That I’d just sucked it up and confessed how in love with her I am.

The idea that I might not ever get that chance cuts me deeper than any pain I’ve ever felt before.