Page 21 of My Shifty Bodyguard

I rise immediately and follow him into the hallway. “Report.”

Gavin runs a hand through his hair, grimacing. “It’s Violet.”

Everything in me goes still.

“What about her?”

“She’s gone.”

A cold spike drives straight through my chest.

“What do you mean she’s gone?”

“She slipped out. Nobody saw her leave. She’s off pack property—and we have no idea where.”

The world tilts.

My mate is gone. She’s left me. I have failed her, and she is unprotected and alone.

Chapter Eleven

Violet

I’m alone.

Holy Alpaca. I’ve never been alone in my life before.

I’m not alone like I was when I shifted and ran through the woods on pack property. I felt Dax’s presence there, comforting, protective. I didn’t know he was watching me – but I knew he wasn’t far.

I don’t feel his presence here. The distance, the absence, makes me feel cold inside.

I did this. I separated us. I gathered my clothes into a ball that was wrapped in my skirt, shifted, grabbed them in my mouth, and ran.

I ran in the direction of Cedar Run. I’m on the outskirts of the town that I’m not allowed to visit.

One minute I’m running under pine and oak, the paved road cool beneath my paws, and the next Cedar Run opens up like a storybook. Real pavement, real sidewalks, real buildings. So much bigger than my tiny little hometown that I was occasionally allowed to visit.

Downtown Cedar Run is as charming as I’d imagined. Brick storefronts line Main Street, warm red and sun-faded, with striped awnings casting neat bands of shade across the windows. Hanging baskets overflow with petunias and trailing greenery, bright splashes of color against the brick.

There’s a coffee shop with a swinging sign that reads Has Beans, the door opening just long enough to release the scent of roasted coffee and sugar. Down the block, a bakery vents pure temptation with its aromas of cinnamon and yeast.

There’s no farmers market today, it’s only on weekends but I can see the wide open square at the end of Main, bare except for a few benches. A group of women stroll past with shopping bags. A man climbs off a bike outside the hardware store. Somewhere, a radio plays faint country music through an open window.

I slow, letting my gaze drink it in. The normalcy of it all hits me hardest. It’s charming and busy and solid, a place where people build lives instead of being protected from them.

Quickly, I pull on my pink skirt, bra, and my white shirt which is splattered with little pink roses. Lastly, I slip on my white sandals.

There’s a diner sitting halfway Main Street, a low brick storefront gone soft red with age, the name painted in tall cream letters across the front. “The Late Shift Grill”.

A green-and-white striped awning hangs over the sidewalk, sagging at one corner. Two little café tables sit underneath that nobody uses until May. The screen door has a bell In the window, a glass pie case turns slow circles, and a chalkboard leans against the brick with the day's special written in block capitals. The whole place smells of coffee and bacon and butter from half a block away.

I head over to the diner, enter and plop down at the counter. Sitting down, I order a coffee and a slice of pecan pie.

It’s delicious. So sweet and sticky. It tastes like freedom and…loneliness?

Everything would be perfect if I only had my Dax with me.

Big, lying Dax.