Page 93 of Dead Girls Don’t Forget

That pulled a real smile from him. He stepped closer, slow enough that I could have pulled away, and brushed a knuckle gently along my jaw.

“Come on,” he said, voice low. “I’ll walk you in.”

He never pressed for an explanation. Most people would have. Jackson just stayed. We walked to the lecture hall in comfortable silence, and he slipped into the seat beside me without a word. Under the desk, his hand settled on my thigh, warm and steady. Halfway through Hartley's lecture, I found myself leaning into him without thinking.

The rest of the day did not pass quietly.

I went to the grocery store after my afternoon practice. It was busy enough that no one paid any attention to me, which was exactly how I liked it. I moved slowly through the produce section with the basket hanging from one hand, picking up apples and bananas without really thinking about it.

I was halfway through the protein bar selection when my cat went very still inside me, suddenly alert. A second later the scent hit me. Wolf. Male. My pulse stumbled, not because of what I smelled, but because of who it belonged to.

I turned my head casually, pretending to study the prices on the shelf. Nothing stood out at first. Just regular shoppers moving through the aisles—an older woman carefully inspecting tomatoes, a college student pushing a cart loaded with junk food.

Then movement at the end of the aisle caught my attention. A man crossed into the next row, profile only. Broad shoulders, confident gait, dark hair cropped short. I had studied his face on a screen every night for three weeks. I knew him on sight.

John.

For a second the grocery store vanished. I was thirteen again, bleeding through my shirt while my sister screamed somewhere I couldn’t reach her. The memory hit hard enough that I had to lock my knees just to stay standing.

Breathe. I forced air into my lungs.

John shouldn’t have been here. According to the schedule I had been tracking, he was supposed to be on patrol duty right now. But I also knew schedules slipped and shifts got traded all the time. There could be a hundred innocent reasons he was off rotation tonight.

I kept walking, like I was just another student grabbing pasta and eggs. At the end of the canned goods aisle I saw him clearly for a second.

He was talking to another wolf, easy posture, a bag of something in his hand. He laughed at whatever the other man said, and the wolf clapped him on the shoulder like they were old friends. Mundane. Normal. The kind of social camouflage that made people look right past him.

The sight of him like that made my skin crawl. I abandoned my basket between the pasta and the rice and walked straight out of the store without buying anything. The automatic doors opened and cool air hit my face. Only then did I realize how hard my heart was hammering.

As far as I knew, John never noticed me. He never looked my way, never paused, never showed the slightest sign that he knew I existed.

I drew one slow breath, then another, forcing my heartbeat back under control.

The walk home was colder than it should have been. My hands stayed in my pockets, fists clenched. His scent clung to the back of my throat.

By the time I reached my front door the restlessness had settled into my bones like lead. My cat paced inside me, agitated, wanting to run, to claw, to do something. I needed to hit something until my hands bled or my mind went quiet. Preferably both.

When I arrived at the gym an hour later the place buzzed with noise and bodies. Gloves slammed against heavy bags. Someone cursed at a missed combination. Sweat and chalk hung in the air.

I wrapped my hands as I scanned the crowded room. A fight was already underway in the ring, drawing a decent crowd. I ignored all of it and headed for an empty heavy bag near the far wall.

The first impact steadied me almost immediately. Jab. Cross. Hook. My thoughts finally began to quiet beneath the rhythm.

A few minutes later voices drifted over from beside the ring.

“See the girl over there? The brunette? That’s the chick who dropped Tom last month.”

A scoff. “Bullshit.”

“Ask Finn. He still has the video.”

Curious now, I glanced sideways. The man who had called bullshit was tall and broad, dark-haired, with his gloves slung over one shoulder. Our eyes locked.

“Don’t let the size fool you,” his friend laughed. “She’s mean as hell.”

“Mean?” I called out. “I prefer efficient.”

I looked away first, rolled my neck, stepped back from the bag, and took a drink from my water bottle. A moment later he walked over, and the distinct wolf scent hit me before he closed the distance.