Chapter 3: The Brother
1277 Words
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PATRICIA
The community college library smelled like old paper and desperation as Patricia hunched over her laptop in the corner, trying to focus on the online application in front of her Administrative Assistant, Entry level~Requires two years experience for an entry-level position because the world made no sense.
She’d enrolled in night classes two semesters ago—business administration, because it was practical and cheap and might actually lead somewhere. Now she wasn’t sure she could afford to continue.
Her phone buzzed. Another blocked number trying to reach her.
She silenced it and returned to the application.
The library was nearly empty at 8 PM
Just her, a few other desperate students and the tired work-study kid at the desk who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.
Patricia saved her progress and stood, stretching. She needed coffee, Needed air, Needed to stop feeling like her skin was too tight for her body.
The dreams hadn’t stopped. Neither had the strange sharpness to her senses, or the phantom scent of pine and smoke that followed her everywhere.
She was falling apart, and she didn’t know how to stop it.
The parking lot was poorly lit and mostly empty.
Patricia walked quickly toward the bus stop, keys laced between her fingers the way her mother had taught her. The night air was cold, biting through her thin jacket.
She was halfway across the lot when she heard footsteps behind her.
“Hey. Hey, wait up.”
Patricia kept walking.
“Don’t be like that … We Just want to talk.”
Three of them.
She could hear their footsteps now, spreading out to flank her.
Her heart kicked into overdrive.
“I said wait up.” A hand grabbed her arm.
Patricia spun, yanking free. “Don’t touch me.”
The guy—early twenties, buzzed hair, reeking of beer—grinned. “Feisty. I like that.”
“Leave me alone.”
“Come on, sweetheart. We just want to get to know you.” His friends laughed, moving closer. “Those eyes are crazy. You some kind of freak?”
Fear spiked through her, sharp and familiar. The same fear she’d felt every time her father’s footsteps got too close, every time his voice rose.
But underneath the fear, something else stirred.
Something that growled.
“Back off,” Patricia said, and her voice came out lower, rougher. Wrong.
The guy’s grin faltered. “What the—”
“She said back off.”
The new voice cut through the tension like a blade.
Patricia turned.
A man stood ten feet away, hands in his pockets, posture deceptively casual. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair and features that were almost familiar in a way that made her chest tighten.
But his eyes were different. Colder. Sharp green instead of storm-gray.
“This doesn’t concern you,” Buzzcut said.
The stranger smiled. It wasn’t friendly.
“Actually, it does. See, I don’t like when three grown men corner a woman in a dark parking lot. Call me old-fashioned.”
“We were just talking—”
“No, you weren’t.” He took a step forward, and something in the movement made all three men take a step back. “You were harassing her. And now you’re going to leave. Unless you want to see what happens when I stop being polite.”
The threat hung in the air, quiet and absolute.
Buzzcut looked like he wanted to argue. Then he looked at the stranger again and reconsidered.
“Whatever, man. She’s not worth it anyway.”
They left quickly, muttering to themselves.
Patricia stood frozen, heart still racing, trying to process what just happened.
The stranger turned to her, his expression softening slightly. “You okay?”
“I… yes. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. You’re bleeding.”
Patricia looked down. Her palm was cut where she’d gripped her keys too hard. Blood welled slowly from the shallow wound.
The stranger’s nostrils flared. His eyes flashed—just for a second—with something that wasn’t entirely human.
Patricia’s breath caught.
“Come on,” he said, his voice carefully controlled. “Let’s get that cleaned up. There’s a coffee shop still open across the street.”
She should say no. Should get on the bus and go home and forget this whole night.
But something about him felt…Familiar.
“Okay,” she whispered.
*********
The coffee shop was warm and bright and blessedly normal.
The stranger—who introduced himself as Damon Thorne—bought them both coffee and sat across from her in a corner booth. He handed her napkins for her hand and watched while she cleaned the cut.
“Thorne,” Patricia said slowly. “That’s an unusual name.”
“Family name. We’re… old money. Pretentious as hell.” He smiled, and it was charming in a practiced way. “What about you? What’s a girl with eyes like that doing fighting off assholes in a parking lot?”
“Taking night classes. Trying not to get murdered. The usual.”
Damon laughed. “Fair enough.”
They talked for twenty minutes. Easy, surface-level conversation that felt strangely comfortable. He was studying business too, he said. Taking a few classes to appease his family while he figured out what he actually wanted to do.
But Patricia noticed things.
The way he watched her just a little too intently.
The way he breathed in slowly whenever she moved, like he was scenting her.
The way his eyes occasionally flashed that strange not-quite-human green.
And underneath it all, something nagged at her. Something about the name Thorne, about the shape of his face, about—
“You smell like someone,” Damon said suddenly.
Patricia froze. “What?”
“Sorry. That came out weird.” He ran a hand through his hair, looking almost embarrassed. “I just mean… your perfume. It’s familiar.”
“I’m not wearing perfume.”
His eyes sharpened. “No. I guess you’re not.”
Silence stretched between them.
“I should go,” Patricia said, gathering her things.
“Wait.” Damon pulled a business card from his wallet and slid it across the table. “Look, I know this is weird, but… if those guys bother you again, or if you need anything, call me. Okay?”
Patricia looked at the card. Simple. Expensive cardstock. Just his name and a phone number.
“Why would you do that?”
“Because you look like you could use a friend,” Damon said simply. “And because I have a feeling we’re going to see each other again.”
*********
## DAMON
He waited until she was on the bus before pulling out his phone.
His brother’s scent clung to her like a second skin. Faint, yes—days old—but unmistakable.
Kael had f****d her.
Damon’s jaw clenched.
Of course he had. The perfect Alpha, taking whatever he wanted, never facing consequences.
But there was something else. Something in her scent that made his wolf uneasy. Something almost like pack, like *family*, buried under human fear and exhaustion.
Impossible.
Unless…
Damon dialed a number he hadn’t used in months.
“I need you to look into someone,” he said when the voice answered. “Patricia Kesena. Everything you can find.”
He ended the call and stared at the card still sitting on the table—the one she’d left behind without realizing.
Her student ID.
Damon smiled slowly.
If Kael wanted her, then Damon would make sure he never got her.
Some things were worth destroying an empire for.
- Writer
