A Promise kept

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

ETHAN'S POV

12:30 AM. RENO INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

Wheels down.

Phone on. It buzzes itself to death.

Luca x4.

`You good?`

`Call me when you land.`

`Don't do dumb shit.`

`Ethan?`

Then one from her. Right on top.

MILLA

`Did you make it to Reno okay?`

8:34 PM

She texted while I was in the air. While I was somewhere over California trying not to think about her being in LA. Beverly Hills. 500 miles away and too close.

"Coward," I muttered.

Nox snarled in agreement. Deep in my chest.

ETHAN

`Yeah.`

12:37 AM

Send.

12:45 AM. HOME

House dark. Too small. Suffocating.

Nox wanted out. Now.

I went to the porch.

I kicked off my shoes, ripped the suit off — jacket, shirt, tie — left it in a heap. I couldn't stand the smell of that country club on me anymore.

Then the shift.

It was silent. Fluid.

My spine popped, lengthened. Shoulders rolled forward. Nails thickened into black claws that clicked against the hardwood. Black fur rolled over my skin like spilled ink, spotted rosettes hidden until the light hit. My jaw cracked, teeth lengthening.

Nox took over. Full black panther. 200 pounds of pissed off muscle.

1:10 AM. OUTSIDE - THE HUNT

Cold desert air. And suddenly the world was loud.

Panther vision at night is stupid. Everything glowed. I could see every rabbit track in the scrub, every gust of dust, the heat coming off rocks that held the day's sun. My ears swiveled — coyote two miles north, owl overhead, the hum of the highway 10 miles out. And smell — blood, pine, dry earth, my own rage.

Nox ran.

Low to the ground, silent. Paws barely touching dirt. Through sagebrush. Over the fence in one leap. This this was stalking, gliding, built for ambush.

A jackrabbit bolted. Nox was already on it.

I felt his focus narrow — heartbeat slowing, pupils blown wide, whiskers picking up vibration. He waited. One. Two. Then pounced. 30 feet in a blur. Jaws around its neck. Clean kill. He didn't eat it. Just needed the kill. Needed to feel something other than her text.

He dragged it to the ridge and dropped it. Looked southwest.

Toward LA. Toward Beverly Hills. Toward her.

She texted. She waited.

And I sent `Yeah.`

Nox let out a low, guttural cough — a panther's growl — and laid down, tail thumping, frustrated.

We ran back. Shifted on the porch — bare, cold, human

again, shaking. I showered the dirt and blood off and went to bed staring at my phone.

She never texted back.