Page 2 of Griffin (Pecan Pines #3)

Chapter 2

Griffin

" W hy you would want to spend your free time hanging around sweaty gamers in a crowded hall, I have no idea," Sawyer was saying on the phone.

"What I do in my free time is none of your business," I told him.

“The pack needs you,” Sawyer said dramatically. I rolled my eyes, barely resisting the urge to snort.

"Funny, I haven’t received any urgent calls or messages from Coop. You’re just lonely," I pointed out, grinning as I watched a couple of streamers show off their gameplay on a stage nearby.

"Shifts in the northern sector are always lonely," Sawyer muttered, and I could hear the faint rustling of wind through the phone.

He was on patrol, probably near the old logging road where the reception always got sketchy.

"Well, jokes aside, when are you coming back?" Sawyer pressed, his tone more serious now.

"The convention ends tomorrow," I said absentmindedly, my eyes drifting over the crowd.

And then I saw him. Michael.

A streamer I followed closely stepped out of his booth, his dark hair tousled in a way that looked both casual and annoyingly perfect.

He was flanked by Shawn, another streamer who was about as subtle as a train wreck.

Michael and Shawn had VIP passes around their necks, allowing them to skip the long line.

And here I was, with the other normal folks, waiting to try the game. The waiting didn’t bother me.

Shifters, as a rule, hated crowds.

Too many people, too much noise, and no space to breathe. It messed with our senses, made us feel trapped, and set our beasts on edge.

But my wolf had always been different, calmer. Centered.

My father had been the same way—his beast so composed that most humans didn’t even realize he was anything more than just another guy.

That trait helped both of us survive the brutal rule of our previous lead alpha. Too bad, my brother Noah wasn’t like me and dad.

His wolf was always restless and jumpy.

My thoughts inevitably drifted to my dad. I hadn’t meant to let my mind wander there, but it was hard not to.

The cold morning three months ago still haunted me—when I got that phone call from the hospital, the nurse’s voice calm but somber.

I could barely process the words at the time.

Your father’s been in a terrible accident.

Noah and I had rushed to the hospital, speeding through icy roads with nothing but dread gripping my chest.

I kept replaying it over in my mind—what could’ve happened? He was always so careful, always so aware of his surroundings.

Dad had drilled that into us as kids, teaching us the importance of paying attention, staying alert, keeping ourselves and others safe.

But when we got to the hospital, we found out it wasn’t just any accident. No, Dad had been a hero.

Turned out, he’d saved a little girl. Six years old, human, from being run over by a semi. He’d seen the truck coming when she darted into the street after a dropped toy.

Without a second thought, he pushed her out of the way. Of course, he had to go out like that. Like a damn hero.

But he hadn’t gone out, not completely. He survived the hit, just barely, and had been in a coma ever since.

Noah and I had been there by his side as much as we could—taking shifts, sitting in that sterile room with its beeping machines, waiting for any sign that he might wake up.

The doctors weren’t optimistic.

They’d said something about swelling in his brain, about how long he’d been unconscious.

But that didn’t stop us from hoping, from waiting.

Noah had been the one to push me into going to this convention, though. I almost didn’t.

It felt wrong leaving Dad’s side, as if I’d be abandoning him somehow.

But Noah, ever the optimist, reminded me that it was unlikely Dad’s condition would change overnight.

He practically shoved me out the door, saying I needed a break, that I couldn’t keep living in that hospital room, letting the weight of it crush me.

So, I went. Thinking maybe the trip could help, give me some space to breathe.

But even here, among the buzz of excitement, surrounded by a crowd of strangers who had no idea what was going on in my life, I couldn’t fully escape it.

The quiet moments always brought my thoughts back to the hospital room, to the smell of antiseptic and the quiet hum of machines keeping my father alive.

I forced myself to pull my mind from the past and focus on the present.

The noise around me, the bustle of people excited for the latest games, the hum of conversation—it was all a distraction, but one I needed.

Even if just for a little while.

I watched as Michael and Shawn walked by, a small group of fans trailing after them like moths to a flame.

A few people in line whipped out their phones, holding them up to catch a glimpse or maybe a quick selfie.

Shawn, obnoxious as ever, took out his phone and draped an arm around Michael’s shoulder for a selfie, as if they were best buddies.

Michael blinked, caught off guard, but he handled it like a pro, flashing a quick smile.

Still, I could see a flicker of discomfort in his eyes.

It didn’t surprise me. I’d always gotten the impression that Michael wasn’t the kind of guy who craved attention, not the way Shawn did.

Shawn, in his videos, came off as loud and brash—every bit as obnoxious in real life as he was online.

He thrived on it, the constant validation.

Michael, though? He seemed like the kind of guy who could do without it, but went along with the fanfare because it was part of the job.

I didn’t pull out my phone like the others. It felt... wrong.

Undignified. The streamers were used to it, sure, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t invasive.

Once Michael and Shawn were gone, the excitement in the line settled down, and people returned to their screens, scrolling, swiping, waiting for their turn.

I sighed, glancing at the long queue ahead. At least an hour, if I was lucky.

And just as that thought crossed my mind, I pulled out my phone, only to see the dreaded low battery icon flashing at me.

Great. Just great.

I tapped my pocket for the power bank and pulled it out, but the blinking red light told me all I needed to know.

The thing was nearly dead too. I should’ve brought a book or something to pass the time.

But instead, here I was, phone on life support, stuck in a sea of strangers, waiting for my turn to try out a new game.

An hour later, I finally stepped out of the convention hall, feeling a wave of relief as the cool evening air hit my face.

My muscles ached from standing around all day, and it felt damn good to stretch my legs.

The crowds, the noise, the excitement—it had all been fun, but I needed a break.

My stomach grumbled loudly, reminding me that it was well past time for dinner.

I remembered a nearby diner that stayed open until midnight, perfect for a late meal.

Cutting through the park seemed like the fastest route, and the quiet of the night was a welcome contrast to the bustling convention center.

I could already imagine the greasy cheeseburger and fries waiting for me. But then, something—or rather someone—caught my attention.

A figure sprinted past me.

At first, I didn’t think much of it—people jogged through parks all the time—but my nose picked up the rancid smell of fear.

And underneath that fear was something else… a scent that made my wolf stir, intrigued.

It was subtle, almost hidden beneath the panic, but familiar. Michael?

I stopped, my brow furrowing. It was him. His face had been pale and terrified as he darted by.

What the hell was Michael doing, jogging through the park at this hour? More importantly, why did he look so scared?

Before I could even process it, another person brushed past me, this one wearing all black—baggy sweatpants, sweatshirt, and a hoodie pulled up, obscuring his face.

The overwhelming stench of cheap cologne hit me like a wall, nearly making me gag.

The guy moved with purpose, and as he passed, my instincts flared. Something was wrong.

A normal person might have just let it go, minding their own business.

But Dad had always taught me that when someone’s in trouble, you don’t just stand by. You act.

He drilled that sense of justice into Noah and me from a young age, and it was second nature to me now. I couldn’t just ignore this.

My instincts screamed that Michael was in danger.

And my instincts were never wrong. I took off after them, cursing myself for not reacting faster.

“Hey!” I called out.

Overthinking the situation had given Michael’s pursuer a head start, and they were already disappearing into the park’s winding paths.

I pushed myself harder, my wolf stirring beneath my skin as I tracked the scent of that damn cologne.

It was so strong, so pungent, it practically left a trail in the air.

I followed it, using the sharpness of my senses to guide me through the darkening park.

I emerged from the trees and into a quieter, more secluded part of the park, near a bar’s back alley.

The streetlamps cast long shadows, and there, pressed against a brick wall in a dead-end alley, was Michael.

His eyes were wide with fear, his back against the wall, cornered. The figure in black stood a few feet away from him, blocking his escape.

“What do you want?” Michael’s voice trembled, barely keeping it together.

The man tilted his head slightly, his face hidden by some sort of mask that distorted his voice.

“I just want to talk to you,” he said, though the tone was anything but friendly.

Something in me snapped. I stepped forward, letting my presence be known.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” I demanded.

The masked figure froze, clearly startled by my sudden appearance. For a moment, no one moved.

Then, the guy in black muttered something under his breath and reached into his pocket.

There was a loud bang—a flash of light—and a plume of smoke erupted between us. A cheap smoke bomb.

Coughing through the acrid cloud, I pushed forward, but the guy was already gone, disappearing into the shadows like a ghost.

I cursed under my breath, fighting through the smoke until I reached Michael. He was trembling, pale as a sheet, eyes wide in shock.

“You okay?” I asked, my voice softer now, trying not to spook him any further.

Michael nodded, but it was a shaky, uncertain movement.

“I… I don’t know what just happened…”

I gently took his arm, leading him out of the alley and toward a nearby bench.

He practically collapsed onto it, his breaths coming fast and uneven.

I sat beside him, watching him closely, ready to jump in if he needed more help.

“He’s been following me… a stalker,” Michael muttered, his words tumbling out, barely coherent. “I don’t know… why…”

I frowned. The fear rolling off him was almost palpable, and my wolf growled protectively in the back of my mind.

“I’ll call you a cab,” I said, pulling out my phone.

Michael was quiet as we sat there waiting. His hands were trembling, his eyes staring off into space.

When the cab finally pulled up, I pointed it out and stood to open the door for him.

“Here’s your ride,” I said, but as I turned to leave, Michael’s hand shot out, grabbing mine.

His grip was tight, and a strange sensation shot up my arm at the touch. A spark—something electric.

He looked up at me, his eyes full of vulnerability.

“Can you… come with me?” His voice was small, fragile, and something inside me shifted.

Protective instincts flared stronger than ever.

I didn’t question it. After what he’d just been through, how could he trust anyone? But here he was, asking me to stay.

“Yeah, I’ll come with you,” I said softly, sliding into the cab beside him.

Michael mumbled the address of his hotel to the driver, and we fell into silence as the car pulled away from the park.

He didn’t say anything, but his hand moved from mine to grip the sleeve of my sweater, holding onto me like I was some kind of lifeline.

By the time we arrived at the hotel, the tension in the cab was thick.

“We’re here,” I reminded him gently.

“Right,” Michael murmured, but he didn’t move right away.

He stared at me for a second, and then, to my surprise, he leaned in. His lips brushed against mine, soft and warm.

The kiss sent a jolt through my system, sharp and unexpected.

It had been a long time since I’d been on the receiving end of a kiss like that—so raw, so real.

When he pulled back, Michael flushed as if he’d just realized what he’d done.

He let go of my sleeve, scrambling out of the cab in a hurry. I sat there for a moment, touching my lips, still processing the kiss.

My mind raced, heart pounding as I replayed the moment in my head.

“Hey, you getting out or what?” the cabbie grumbled from the front.

Shaking myself from my thoughts, I glanced at the driver and gave him the address of my own hotel.