Chapter 7
1211 Words
By the time the afternoon rush should’ve started, the shop was quiet.
Too quiet.
The city moved on like it always did—cars sliding past outside, someone arguing on the sidewalk, a siren in the distance—but inside my concrete box, every sound echoed. The clink of a socket, the hiss of the compressor, my own breath.
And under it all, the hollow absence where the SUV had sat.
Good, I told myself, wiping my hands on a rag. Less wolf. Less trouble.
Nyra huffed. Coward.
The bell over the side door jingled.
I didn’t look up right away. “If it’s another survey, I’m hanging up in person this time.”
“Hardly a survey,” a smooth voice said.
My spine went rigid. I lifted my head.
The tall man from last night stood just inside the door, coat dry now, hair neatly combed. No rain halo this time, but the badge on his belt caught the light, same as before. His partner lurked half a step behind, hands in his pockets, eyes everywhere.
“Ms. Thorn,” the tall one said, as if we were old friends. “Good afternoon.”
“Shop’s open,” I said. “But I don’t do inspections, only repairs.”
He smiled. “We’re not here for the car.”
Of course not.
Jake wasn’t around to play buffer—out on a parts run. Typical. I had a sudden, unreasonable urge to drag him back by the hood.
I set the wrench down carefully. “Then you’re wasting both our time.”
“On the contrary,” he said, wandering closer like a man admiring the artwork. His gaze touched the bay, the bent frame, the oil stains. “We had a moment to review last night’s incident. You were very… decisive on the phone. Clear, concise. No panic.”
“Some of us don’t like the sound of our own screaming,” I said.
He chuckled. “Have you lived in this area long, Ms. Thorn?”
“Long enough that your questions are getting old.”
His partner drifted to the far wall, studying the security camera, the back door, the stairs that led up to my apartment. My muscles tensed.
The tall man pretended not to notice my glance. “We’re following up on other reports,” he said. “Unusual weather phenomena. Animal disturbances. Power fluctuations.”
“You forgot plague of frogs,” I said. “I’ll keep an eye out.”
His eyes narrowed just a fraction. “Humor can be a coping mechanism.”
“So can leaving,” I said. “You said last night you’d come back if I remembered anything. I didn’t.”
A beat of silence. He took another step, close enough now that I could smell that same sterile-citrus under note. It made the back of my throat itch.
“You were alone when the car came through your door?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“No one else in the building? Upstairs?”
My heart kicked. “That’s my apartment. And no, I don’t hide any large, unusual animals in my linen closet.”
His lips curved. “Stranger things have happened, Ms. Thorn.”
Nyra prowled just under my skin, ears flat. He smells like cages, she said.
I crossed my arms so he wouldn’t see my hands shake. “Look, I get that you have a checklist. But the only unusual thing around here last night was a rich guy with bad timing and worse brakes.”
“Mr. Hale.” He pronounced the name carefully. “Is he a regular customer?”
“First time,” I said.
“You seemed… acquainted.”
“He tried to kill my door. That creates a bond.”
His eyes finally cooled a degree. “We’d appreciate it if you informed us if he returns.”
“No,” I said.
The word surprised us both.
His brows rose. “No?”
“I’m not your secretary.” My voice steadied as I went on. “I’m not your scout, or your snitch, or whatever it is you think you’re recruiting me for. I fix cars. If you’ve got a problem with his driving, pull him over like everyone else.”
The partner by the wall turned fully at that, interest sharpening. The air in the bay thickened, even without wolves in it.
“Mr. Hale is… a person of interest,” the tall man said, choosing his words. “Certain types tend to attract others. Unstable elements. We’re simply trying to keep the public safe.”
My skin crawled. “Funny. I’ve heard that line before.”
He watched my face like he was waiting for a c***k. “In your previous town, perhaps?”
Ice slid down my spine. “You’ve been digging.”
“It’s my job,” he said lightly. “A girl leaves her pack at sixteen, no further records, shows up here a year later with no family, no references. That is unusual, Ms. Thorn.”
The world tilted for a second. The bay. The tools. The cracked concrete. All of it spun around those words: leaves her pack.
You’re slipping, Nyra murmured. He smells too much like Then.
I forced my lungs to work. “Lot of kids leave bad homes,” I said. “You want to police all of them, or just me?”
He smiled again, all teeth this time. “Only the special ones.”
His partner shifted his stance. “We’re not accusing you of anything, ma’am. Just asking for cooperation.”
“Cooperation is what I did last night,” I shot back. “Opened my door, answered your questions, didn’t throw a wrench at your head. Twice. That’s my limit.”
For a heartbeat, nobody breathed.
Then the tall man sighed, like I was a stubborn child. “Very well. We won’t take more of your time.”
He reached into his coat, pulled out a small card, and set it on the counter with two fingers. It was identical to the one from last night. Same logo. Same number.
“If something… comes to mind,” he said, “call. Before it’s out of your hands.”
Out of your hands did not sound like a metaphor.
I didn’t pick up the card. “Door’s that way.”
He inclined his head as if I’d invited him to dinner. “Have a good day, Ms. Thorn.”
They left. No slammed doors, no harsh words. Just two sets of footsteps receding, cars starting, engines fading into the city noise.
The silence they left behind rang louder than their questions.
Slowly, I walked to the counter. The Council card sat there, neat and harmless and buzzing like a wasp nest.
In the drawer below it, under pens and receipts, Caleb’s black card hummed just as loudly in my mind.
Nyra breathed against my heart. They know, she said.
“I know,” I whispered back.
About me. About then. About us.
And suddenly the distance between my little human life and the world I’d left behind shrank to the thickness of a card and a choice I wasn’t ready to make.
- Writer
