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 THE WOLF’S KIDNAPPED MATE

Black Ops Wolf Shifter Romance

Beaufort Creek Shifters Book 11

Layla Silver

Copyright © 2023 by Layla Silver.

All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of the book only. No part of this book may be reproduced,
scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form, including recording, without prior written permission from the
publisher, except for brief quotations in a book review.
 Contents
Chapter 1 - Fred
Chapter 2 - Kylie
Chapter 3 - Fred
Chapter 4 - Kylie
Chapter 5 - Fred
Chapter 6 - Kylie
Chapter 7 - Fred
Chapter 8 - Kylie
Chapter 9 - Fred
Chapter 10 - Kylie
Chapter 11 - Fred
Chapter 12 - Kylie
Chapter 13 - Fred
Chapter 14 - Kylie
Chapter 15 - Fred
Chapter 16 - Kylie
Chapter 17 - Fred
Chapter 18 - Kylie
Chapter 19 - Fred
Chapter 20 - Kylie
Chapter 21 - Fred
Chapter 22 - Kylie
Chapter 23 - Fred
Chapter 24 - Kylie
About the Author
Books by Layla Silver
 Chapter 1 - Fred
I wasn’t sure it was such a good idea.
That wasn’t exactly my mission, to be thinking of whether or not the plan was a good idea, but it was something I kept
thinking about as I set my burner phone on the simple wooden table. Plants circled the kitchen around me, from verdant jade
flooding the window to several pots of cactus and about a dozen miniature pots of succulents crowding the counter.
This place was my sanctuary, my home. It needed to feel like a home if I was going to be here for a while. While Blake
had made it abundantly clear I could stay in the Beaufort Creek pack for as long as I wanted, I got the sense that he was only
doing it because of Virginia.
She’d been trouble from the start, that girl. But I’d done everything in my power to ensure her protection as far as
documents and relocation could carry her. Now she had a home within a pack—and a mate. She’d extended kindness to me by
getting me into this pack too. I packed my old life up into boxes and stored them in the small crawl space above my new cabin.
But without my old office, I felt strange, staring off at the normal-looking items lined up on the compact table near the
entryway of the kitchen. Notepads and pens sat next to a set of keys and a few smaller potted plants, mostly more succulents.
Beyond the doorway was a small living room, and then the adjacent rooms were my bedroom and the bathroom. Small but tidy.
And weird.
Well, weird didn’t even begin to cover it. Everything in here was totally foreign to me. Tangled networks of ivy grew
along the window to my left where I could see the greenhouse that was slowly coming to life. Other than the cloudy pane of the
windows, everything was clean. Cleaning was a byproduct of boredom—and I was going for the gold with boredom at this
point.
“Sharp eyes, soldier,” came a husky voice from the burner phone. “Look alive.”
“But play dead.”
Laughter followed. Then dead silence.
I sighed while leaning toward the old Nokia. Funny how old things still worked just fine even when they’d gone
obsolete by all common standards. “Liam, are you sure this is a good idea?”
“What can go wrong? Tell me.”
“Our cover could get blown, for starts.” I pulled a few white strands of hair from my tattered army jacket. “Your cover
could get blown. I mean, you’re supposed to be hiding. Not completing missions for a different firm.”
He chuckled. “Danger loves me.”
“Or you have a problem.”
“You’ll be having a problem soon if you don’t complete the rest of the mission. Remember? We agreed.”
Yes, that was all very true. We had agreed—about three-ish weeks ago, I’d decided to change my stars for the sake of a
close friend. He was an old friend, and if memory served proper, he was a protective and caring friend. His plans didn’t
always make sense in the beginning, but they were typically successful.
“We did agree,” I replied. “And we owe Virginia a huge thanks for getting me into this pack.”
“Not yet, soldier.”
I sighed. “I know. Protect Kylie first. Say thanks later.”
True, it wasn’t the time for such gratitude. This was a top secret mission, and I couldn’t be handing out thank-you cards
to civilians. Though it wasn’t like I was in the black ops anymore. I had technically gone rogue.
Four years had passed since I had marched out of the black ops. It’d been the same amount of time since I’d last worked
with Liam. Until today, not much had drawn us together. Other than the odd Christmas card here or there, the trimmings of a
succulent, or a random postcard, I didn’t keep in touch.
I closed my eyes with a sense of defeat.
Me. I didn’t keep in touch. Liam did plenty to toss out lines of contact. I just hadn’t wanted to touch any of the subjects I
knew would come up if we were to actually talk on the phone. Like we were doing now.
Except we weren’t talking. I was just staring at the ancient brick of technology like it was a new type of bomb I was
tasked to deconstruct. Time wasn’t ticking on any clocks—I despised analog clocks, personally—and nobody’s life was on the
line. Just me. Just my resolve wavering the longer I stared.
 “How is she doing?”
I drew air through my nostrils like I’d been holding my breath. Heck, I probably had been this entire time. “Your sister
is good as far as I can tell.”
“Have you spoken to her?”
“Not yet. She’s been, uh…” I scratched behind my ear. “She’s been working at the community center as an event
coordinator or whatever.”
He huffed, amused. “She’s always been the better of us at organizing.”
“Wasn’t she the one who came up with Operation Paragon?”
“Yeah, she was the brains. I was the muscle.” He coughed, cleared his throat, made another hacking sound that made it
sound like he might have been sick. He spat whatever he’d collected in his mouth into what I hoped was a sink or a toilet.
“Should have never taken her to fucking Tehran of all places.”
My shoulders dipped together as I bowed my head. “Yeah, well, we can’t change the past can we?” I drummed the table
with the fingers of my left hand. “Anyway, she’s doing alright, Liam. You can rest assured on that.”
“You have to protect her at all costs.”
“All costs?” I lifted my head. “So like, what, marry her?”
He cackled, making the speaker crackle with static. “Not in a million years, my dude. Don’t even dream of it.”
I shrugged. “Well, you said all costs.”
“Look alive. But don’t you dare marry my sister.”
Those were clear orders. I would respect them within an inch of my life. And considering I didn’t have any romantic
plans for Kylie, it was an easy task. “10-4.”
“You should have been the one to come to Tehran. I can’t believe Douglas sacked you.”
“Yeah, well…” Distance grew between us. More than what already existed. And then I felt the urge to run into the
greenhouse. “I should get going.”
“Not before we review the plan.”
One massive sigh later, I was leaning back in my chair. “Alright, hit me.”
“I will if you get my sister hurt.”
“Noted. Now, I already got into the pack through Virginia. Blake and Troy know what’s up. I’ve got to talk to their
security dude. Some guy named Jermaine.”
Liam whistled. “That guy’s a grumpy-ass bear. Be warned.”
“Twice noted.”
“You’ll go over the basics with Jermaine. I’m sorry I can’t be there. I’m sorry you have to deal with my mess.”
I shook my head. “How long were we the grim dogs?”
“I don’t know. Ten years?”
“And in that time, when have you ever apologized?”
My buddy seemed stunned by the question. Or he was trying to quietly scrape more crap out of his lungs without me
being privy to it. Who knew which it would be with him? His reactions weren’t exactly predictable, and it wasn’t like I could
see his face right now.
Sometimes, technology could just be a huge pain in the ass.
“Don’t get used to it,” Liam warned in a flat tone. “I need to apologize to Kylie too. But one thing at a time. I’m
wrapped up in this shit in Canada and—”
Static crowded the line. I took the phone off its barely functional speaker setting and held the brick to my ear. “And you
need someone on the inside. I get it.”
“Bernadetti was spotted in the areas surrounding Beaufort. I don’t have exact coordinates yet. I need you two to draw
him out into the light if he happens to go into town. Karla and Cora should already be en route. They’ll stay nearby.”
“Where nearby?”
He coughed. “Irrelevant. You’ll move Kylie into position, yank Bernadetti out of his little hidey-hole, and the Blonde
Dalmatians will take him into custody.”
I snorted. “Blonde Dalmatians.”
“Listen, they picked their code names. Not me.”
“And what’s your name in all this mess?”
He sighed. “I don’t exist right now, remember?”
Neither should I.
Pops should be yelling down the hallway that I have another customer waiting for me at the counter. Oscar should be
shedding on the stained carpet of my office. Popcorn paint should be raining from the ceiling where I usually hid in the loft to
get what was passable for sleep in those days.
I didn’t exist then. I shouldn’t exist now.
But I did.
I was dragging things out. But who wouldn’t in this situation? “I’m not sure about this.”
“You don’t have to be sure about the plan, Fred. You just have to protect my sister.”
“What if she resists?”
He snickered. “She shouldn’t. Everything should go according to plan.”
“You haven’t told me everything, have you?”
“Don’t sound so unsure.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine. But if things go wrong, I’m coming for your ass first. Got it?”
“Sure, keep it real, dude.”
“I gotta bounce. Meeting in ten.”
Something about shoving my finger into the red button to end the call felt viscerally satisfying. We just didn’t get the
same feelings these days with our technology. Even my computer was one of those archaic boxes that weighed about a hundred
tons just to haul from the damn bar to this tiny home behind the greenhouse. I used it because it was reliable, I could swap out
the parts easily, and I didn’t have to worry about being tracked by any of that new touch-screen stuff.
I took a breath, inhaling the scent of a freshly built home. Blake wasn’t kidding about their builders being quick. Though
the space was compact, it was nice, and it smelled of fresh wood still. They’d built it faster than I could blink, and I was
forever grateful even if I was suspicious of the circumstances. Uncertainty like this was not something I would typically carry
into the field.
But this wasn’t a typical plan, nor was it a standard mission. This was a personal task handed to me by a close friend. It
wasn’t about me. It was about Kylie, who I had watched grow from an awkward teenager into a badass close-combat tactical
soldier. I remembered the phone call that had changed it all back when we were too young to understand what we were doing,
back when the vampire-wolf wars killed her parents and sent her into fight mode.
Every shifter black ops story started off with some kind of tragedy. Hers wasn’t much different. And I wouldn’t try to
pretend that there was a gaping crater of difference between Kylie and me. Because my motivations were similar—no parents,
fight mode. I knew that the smile she wore hid horrors unseen by most people—by most creatures—because I did the same
damn thing.
I knew what kept her up at night. That was why Liam wanted me to protect her. I knew her, and I knew exactly how to
make sure she didn’t do anything reckless.
An alarm beeped from the other room. I launched into the living room and smacked the digital clock, resetting the time
on it to go off again this evening. That would mark my next task—making sure that Kylie walked home safely from her job.

***
“You’re late.”
I grumbled something under my breath while scooting past Jermaine. Liam wasn’t lying. The bear had a grumpy stick
shoved up his backside and it seemed to rigidly twist him around. Blake and Troy sat on opposite sides of the table, putting me
squarely in the middle. I felt like I was about to be interrogated.
 My salute made Jermaine grunt. He popped open a thick folder and dropped it on the table. “Since our last meeting,
I’ve collected intel on every footprint that your Ray Bernadetti character has left in the world.”
I studied the folder. “More than I thought.”
“Much more.” He flipped through a few pages and slid a couple of photographs toward me.
Bernadetti looked just the same, except his hair was thinning on top. Other than that, he had beady black eyes, gray
streaks in his black hair, and sun-spotted skin. He was shoving a bagel into his giant mouth in the top photograph.
“Any leads on his exact location?” I slid the picture aside to reveal one grainy-looking security screenshot of
Bernadetti at an order counter. “Bakeries, huh?”
“He likes to eat.”
I focused on Jermaine. “You’ve got eyes everywhere.”
“I have connections. So does your buddy.”
“I’m well aware.”
Jermaine squinted at me while pointing to the folder. “There’s more for you to review. The task is quite simple. Ensnare
the target in a trap with minimal damage.”
“We’ve got the trap part covered.”
“And I’ll handle the security. But I need you to be cautious here, Fred. Everyone is on edge in this pack because of—”
His head snapped in the direction of his alpha.
Blake calmly waved. “It’s alright. My mother is at peace now. We don’t have to tiptoe around the subject of that war
anymore, Jermaine.”
“I know. It’s just…”
The energy in the room shifted. Metaphorical strings made of fond energy formed between the alpha and his dearly
beloved head of security. I could tell they had plenty of history together.
I could relate to that heavily. “It’s alright. Liam briefed me on the attack on your pack by the Gilberts and Myrtles.”
“So, you understand the gravity of this situation,” Jermaine said sharply. “I’m not taking any chances. I want reports on
everything you do.”
“You’ll have it. No arguments.”
That response eased the bear shifter a bit. He nodded and tapped the folder. “This is top secret for our pack. Nobody
but the people in this room and Liam Mullen have any idea what’s going on.”
Troy frowned while his brows dipped together. “Kylie doesn’t know?”
Blake took a breath and then nodded. “We think it’s best she’s not aware of what’s going on, so her cover isn’t blown.”
Before Troy could argue, Blake added, “And that means her conditions are still the same—she’s not permitted to leave the
pack. She knows that. I’ve already double-checked with her.”
“Won’t it be suspicious that you checked?” I asked.
“No, she’s grown tired of me checking in,” Blake replied with a laugh. “Jermaine usually keeps tabs on her as well. It
wasn’t out of character at all.”
I stared at the folder, absorbing the life of a man who I used to trust. Who Liam used to trust. Who Kylie used to trust.
That man had nearly been the end of everything. And now, I would make sure that things truly ended with him. “Is there
anything else? I need to catch a nap before I tail after Kylie tonight.”
“Oh, there is one more thing, Fred,” Blake said.
Troy leaned forward. “We’ve discussed it at length and believe it’s best you participate in all of our usual customs.”
“Yeah, sure,” I said with a shrug. “I won’t argue with that.”
Blake smiled brightly. “Great, then you won’t mind us announcing you as part of the next mate pairing.”
I choked on air. “The next what?”
“Mates are commonly paired in our packs,” Troy explained confidently. “Blake plans on releasing the next set of pairs
tomorrow during our meeting. He wants you to be one of them.”
I didn’t usually experience panic like this. But I wasn’t one to be thrown into situations like this. Not without being
paid. “I don’t know about all that.”
“You’re one of us now,” Blake said pointedly. “That means you act like one of us. It’s the best way to protect your
mission.”
I glared at the table—because something needed to sustain my wrath, and I wasn’t about to turn it toward any of the
three shifters in this room. I’d reserve most of it for when we caught up to Bernadetti. He deserved it more than anybody.
And heck, it wasn’t like I had to go through with the whole mating ritual thing I’d seen these guys do. No, this was just
part of my cover. I would do my time, pay my dues, and then bounce when everything was said and done.
It wouldn’t take long at all. Three weeks, tops. By then, any sane woman would want me out of her life. I could get back
to being on my own.
Three weeks.
After a deep breath, I nodded. “Alright, fine. But I reserve the right to complain the whole time.”
Everybody laughed.
 Chapter 2 - Kylie
Athleticism was next to godliness if my bestie was to be believed. And right this second, I believed that staying fit was
the only way to provide any kind of divine intervention in my boring life. Maybe I could have biked to the community center,
but why would I do that when I could jog instead?
My legs needed a change from their usual routine. They were used to pedaling rather than pressing heel-to-toe into the
tan dirt of the stony path.
Gray and slate-black pebbles decorated the sides of the path, freshly laid. Tall trees sprang out of the dirt near the
rocks, along with seasonal bushes that displayed some kind of angelic white flower that bloomed beautifully by the time the sun
was high in the sky. I didn’t know a thing about them other than the fact that they smelled nice in the evening when I walked
home. Lanterns hung from iron hooks over the path, also new additions.
Blake and Troy had made plenty of adjustments in the past few weeks that had improved the liveliness of our pack land.
Before all this, before the edits and the languid nights I spent rolling in my bed, I had been overseas—in France, riding
the train to other cities, other countries. Because that was the price I paid for being part of the grim underground of my
previous job. Grim dogs. That was what my brother called us.
Maybe I had sacrificed too many thought molecules to those evenings. I barely had anything left.
I panted as I slowed my pace, trotting in place to keep my legs from locking up. Damn things loved doing that
nowadays. I didn’t have much activity keeping me from a sedentary lifestyle, so I had taken it upon myself to yank Faye from
her cozy apartment early in the mornings for some ocean swim time.
Luckily, Faye wanted to be as active as I did. She never complained, and she always invited me to various events in the
area. But it wasn’t like I could attend much with the rules Blake had set down for me. Troy had agreed to them too when he
took up his co-alpha position. Other than those two men and the security team, nobody knew that I couldn’t leave the confines
of this pack’s land.
And it was so aggravating.
I just wanted to do normal things with normal shifters. The life I had left behind—along with my brother, I mentally
recognized—was part of my nightmares now. Evenings that should have been blissful occasionally turned into relived
experiences. I hated thinking about those memories, and I hated that I couldn’t talk to my best friend about them.
She had no idea who I had been in the past, and she would probably never know. With Liam out in the field again, I
couldn’t say a word. I lived a life of secrecy, one that didn’t even involve me doing anything secretive. There weren’t any
missions for me these days. There wasn’t intel for me to review or operations to plan.
Liam had dropped me off with this pack a year ago. That was too long to go without a mission, or much of anything.
Sometimes, the old team sent some cards—Banks loved those damn Christmas wreaths, Harp was into classic cards,
and my brother usually scrawled something on a random postcard—and the people we rescued occasionally sent a line too.
Normally, those were kept under code names, the most recent being Karla and Cora’s ever clever “Blonde Dalmatian” bit. I
thought they’d sent a pair of Dalmatian photos at one point, maybe three months ago.
Memory didn’t serve me well. And honestly, it wasn’t really something I liked thinking about. Because thinking of the
old team and those soldiers we had rescued made me think about Bernadetti. And I hated to think of that man.
His glassy eyes and sharp demeanor had always made me uncomfortable. I’d often wondered what it was about him
that put me on edge, and then I got my answer when our convoy was attacked.
Tyson and Harvey were in the frontmost vehicle. I was with my brother, the Blonde Dalmatians were behind us, and the
others were spread out. Bombs exploded in my memory, not as loud anymore. But certainly still impressionable.
I stopped jogging next to a bench and plopped onto it, stretching my legs out to keep my muscles from locking up. I bent
forward and stared at the ground between my sneakers, watching sweat darken the soil drop after drop. Bomb after bomb.
A team of four black ops soldiers rescued a team of five black ops soldiers. We were lucky to get out of there alive, but
luck didn’t follow us to the States. Bernadetti spilled every single detail about our missions to our enemies in Tehran, then he
disappeared right off the map, leaving our lives stranded in wild directions.
Like the way my brother had left me here in the south under house arrest.
Karla and Cora have it better, I thought. They have a cute little cottage up in Canada where they grow produce and
sell it at the farmer’s market every weekend.
 I sighed.
Why couldn’t I have a life like that? Those two had found love in each other, while I was stranded here in the middle of
a ranch with two alphas, a small apartment, and a dead-end job.
Oh, and there was always Fred. It wasn’t like he’d said a word to me since he got here, but he was here. He was
around. I saw him sometimes.
My shoulders ached when I sat up. I saw the recreation center up ahead and noticed the growing crowd of people
dwindling through the doors. Right—there was a meeting happening soon. That was the whole point of my jog. When Faye
joined the masses, I launched from the bench and sped in her direction. I didn’t stop until I looped my arm with hers.
She beamed. “I was wondering where you were.” She wiped the sweat from her forehead and sighed contentedly. “I
see we both had the same idea.”
“We did. Where did you go?”
“Around the cornfields to the other side. There’s a little nature trail leading to the beach.”
I nodded. “That’s a good one.”
“I was thinking about doing a swim competition.”
My interest piqued as we wandered into the cafeteria. A low thrum of conversation circulated us as we searched for a
good table. These meetings didn’t usually last long, but I wanted a good spot where I would feel comfortable. Fred was
lingering near the stage at the other end of the room. Our eyes locked.
He looked away. I tried to pretend it didn’t hurt, that after all these years of knowing him I wasn’t offended by him
abruptly joining our pack and then avoiding the crap out of me. No, there were more important things to be offended about.
Like the fact that the snack table was already half empty. I grabbed a plate while keeping my arm looped with Faye’s.
“Did someone really already go through the Oreos?”
“Blame the kids,” Faye joked. “I mean, can you blame them? Oreos are good.”
“Get me some of those chocolate cookies before they disappear.”
She grabbed two and placed them on the plate. “How about some cucumber sandwiches?”
“Nah, I want more carbs—grab some bagels, please?”
“You got it.”
We walked through the line connected at the arms, Faye collecting food while I held the plate. I nudged her softly. “Tell
me about the competitive swimming thing.”
“You ever heard of cross-channel swimming?”
“Yeah, sure. People swim the English Channel all the time.”
She grinned. “That’s what I want to do.”
My heart sank. That was good for her, and I was glad for her. Yet I felt the disappointment gnawing at me like the
hunger pangs in my tummy. I put on a smile and tugged her toward an empty table near the back of the cafeteria. It was the
farthest away from the stage—and away from that awkward tension with Fred.
With the plate between us, I munched happily on a bagel, waiting patiently as the rest of the pack got sorted in their
seats. After a few minutes, a hush fell over the room, and then our alphas walked onto the stage.
Blake held up a microphone. “Thank you all for joining us this afternoon. We’ve got a lot of announcements to cover
today.”
Murmurs traveled through the crowd, mostly curiosities about the next mate pairings.
I rolled my eyes. It was such a weird tradition for such a forward-thinking alpha to keep around. Yet the man insisted he
could hear people’s hearts calling for each other. His co-alpha made the same claim. The guys were already doing me a favor,
so I didn’t want to judge them for their customs.
True love was different than mating, in my honest opinion, but I wasn’t about to say that out loud. So many people here
were convinced that mates were a thing.
Tell that to my ex when he left me at the altar.
Yeah, nope. I wasn’t about to go there today. A few more bites of bagel satisfied my craving for carbs, and partially put
my memories to rest. It was just one of those days, wasn’t it? Nothing a nice swim at the beach wouldn’t fix.
 “You’re all eager for more pairings, I hear,” Blake joked, sending a wave of chuckles through the crowd. “I have more
of them here.” He held up a card.
I snorted. Here we go.
Blake wore his dashing bad-boy grin. I couldn’t deny our Beaufort Creek alpha still had that dangerous charm about
him. While his hunky appearance was attractive, I preferred slimmer muscular builds. It wasn’t like I was counting on finding
that myself any time soon, but it was fine for me to dream.
Especially when those dreams took the place of my usual nightmares.
I nibbled on a chocolate chip cookie.
“Parker Owens and Clay Barker,” Blake announced. “Congrats on being mates.” Some applause broke out while Parker
and Clay stood up to embrace.
Wow, it wasn’t like nobody had seen that coming. Those two had been spotted holding hands every chance they got
while walking around the pack.
Was our alpha losing his razor edge on surprise pairings?
Blake gestured with the card to a table up at the front. “The next pairing is Dahlia Matthis and Sean Combs.”
More applause. This wasn’t that interesting. And I felt like the people around us were also showing growing signs of
disappointment. Mate pairings lately had been rather amiable. Where was the drama? The passion? The rumor mill?
“And the last,” Blake announced, cutting the sound of clapping down to a trickle, “is Fred Duke and Kylie Mullen.”
I dropped my cookie.
There was no way my alpha had just slapped my name into a list of mate pairings like it truly was no big deal. He
slammed me right next to Fred, probably knowing good and well what our history was like with each other. All was friendly in
that world—and nothing more than that.
I lifted my head, noticing the way the crowd turned its attention to me. The heat in my cheeks made me feel like I was
about to start sweating bullets. And maybe I was. Yet no matter how much Faye was patting my shoulder, I couldn’t seem to
break out of the weird funk I was in.
Fred looked right at me. His green eyes sparkled with recognition as a lock of dusty white hair fell to his cheek. He
squinted, that look he had when he was trying to figure something out, and then he offered the smallest of smiles. That smooth
pale skin made me want to reach out for him, like he was inviting my touch.
Oh, that was a relief. Liam would probably throw a fit or something, but of all the people I could have been lumped
with, Fred was probably the best. He was highly intelligent, quiet, clean, and he completed every mission with a zest for life.
There couldn’t have been a more perfect pairing.
Alright, I can get used to this, I thought as I stood tentatively.
Some applause reached my ears. Maybe it was a lot. I didn’t know, because I was too focused on Fred, on his absinthe
eyes drawing me toward him.
I bit my lower lip. A tingling sensation started up in my core. And then that grew into a wave of goosebumps. Yeah, I
could definitely get used to this.
Truthfully, mating still seemed like a silly thing to me. But if I had to do it with anyone, then Fred was my first choice. It
had never occurred to me, and maybe that was why Blake had chosen Fred. I was confined to this pack—maybe being with
Fred would finally get me outside the perimeter.
With a smile, I started walking toward him.
And then his eyes flickered away, and the smile faded. “Alpha, I’m sorry, I can’t do this.”
Fred walked out of the room, leaving me with my breath caught in my throat and my heart thundering in my chest. He
left me there, and the tiny sliver of hope that I might leave my prison left with him. It was like I was being left at the altar all
over again.
At least this time, it was well before the wedding.
 Chapter 3 - Fred
This was definitely a bad idea.
I wasn’t sure what the alphas were thinking, but they must have been up to something sinister when they decided I
should be paired with Kylie. My mission required a certain level of care and discreetness. If I mated with her, then I wouldn’t
just be violating the mission—I would be disrespecting the very clear request of a close friend:
Look alive. But don’t you dare marry my sister.
Was Liam in on this? No, that was impossible. He would have said something. He would have prepared me for it, so I
didn’t offend his sweet sister’s sensibilities. The look on her face when I walked out of there told me everything I needed to
know about her.
Like how she could get hurt over the rejection of a guy she didn’t even care about.
I already knew a lot of things about Kylie—like how she sang in the shower and cycled every morning—and I knew she
didn’t have an ounce of interest in romance. Unless she texted those secrets to Faye. It made me double-check my mental log as
I walked rigidly toward the other side of the path, the part hidden by a line of trees.
Every evening was a lot like this. I napped until my alarm went off, and then I went to watch Kylie walk home. I kept a
good distance, letting my sharpened hearing tell me if anything about her or her situation had changed. It usually hadn’t. She
was often with Faye when she walked home. Today wouldn’t be much different, since the two had been sitting with each other
when Blake decided to make that truly magnificent announcement to the whole damn pack.
There was no way that Liam had signed off on this. The guy wasn’t possessive of his sister or anything, but he was
definitely protective of her. When Bernadetti showed interest some years ago, Liam had drawn a very sharp and bold line in
the sand. This couldn’t possibly be any different. And it wasn’t part of the plan.
I whipped out my burner phone. Sometimes, I wished I could use one of those fancy smartphones everyone used, but it
was a huge security risk. No social media. Not even a damn email outside of the encrypted one I used that was based in
Switzerland. Even that one didn’t have a speck of information on it that could be traced back to me.
Right now, none of that really mattered. I just wanted to get a hold of Liam and get his opinion on this wildly reckless
idea from the alphas I was supposed to trust with my life. And my best friend’s sister’s life.
Was this their idea of fulfilling my mission?
“That was just plain rude,” claimed a high-pitched voice.
I halted behind a huge magnolia. The girls were walking up pretty early by my watch—but we’d just walked out of a
meeting. Or I’d just walked out of a meeting. Everyone else had probably filed out a few minutes after me, seeing as the drama
hadn’t produced much to talk about.
Blake had probably saved the best for last, thinking it was a good idea.
Nope. It was a terrible idea. Hadn’t I been saying that all damn day? I didn’t understand why nobody wanted to listen to
me. Kylie wasn’t my mate. Even if I wanted her to be my mate—which I definitely didn’t—she wouldn’t ever see me as
attractive or appealing. She’d never showed signs of it growing up. Anyway, Liam would have stamped that out quicker than a
flamenco dancer trying to stomp out a fire.
Their footsteps grew louder on the dirt path. One of them kicked a rock that skittered off into a flower bed. I kept my
eyes on the prize, although of course Kylie was much more than a prize, with her aggravatingly positive outlook and sunny
disposition. She was practically a galaxy of giant suns.
Her tan was like an autumn’s brown, and her reddish-auburn hair rested straight against either side of her face, stopping
at her chin. Every time she turned her head, the bob moved with her. Short bangs framed her face, seeming to enhance the hazel-
brown of her eyes. Trim brows appeared to be penciled in a darker shade than her hair, and her face was contoured expertly
with makeup.
How she managed not to break a sweat through her foundation this late in the day, after jogging, was amazing to me.
Kylie was talented like that. She could sport a hot smoky eye and still manage to spot the enemy through her sniper scope.
Nothing really stopped her from getting her job done, and she looked good while doing it.
Not like I was checking her out or anything.
And who in the world was so upbeat all the time? Especially given her experience. I didn’t understand it. But then
again, there were cases of people who left the black ops and turned into the most Zen people on the planet. Some of them even
went on to take vows of silence for world peace.
 That was all horseshit to me. I didn’t think silence did much of anything. Certainly not for the injustices of the world.
And those were just too many to count at this point. Sure, we all did things to cope—I had my greenhouse and my sweet
evergreen, Oscar—but I didn’t want my terrifying nightmares to turn me into some snake-oil peddling shmuck.
“He’s just…he’s so…” Kylie talked about me for what might have been the first time since I’d arrived. “I don’t know.”
Faye rubbed her friend’s shoulder. “Do you know him at all?”
“Not really.”
Even more lies. Great. I rubbed the back of my neck while avoiding a bumblebee. After sliding my burner phone into
my back pocket, I scooted beside the bushes and smaller trees, keeping my distance while keeping the two women within sight.
Look alive.
But play dead.
Faye beamed. “Then it’s not much of a loss, right?”
Ugh, why did they have to be this way? If the rejection hurt, then they should say that. I honestly had expected Kylie to
walk out of there in tears considering how soft she truly can be on the inside. There wasn’t enough Krav Maga in the world to
hide the hurt she harbored in her delicate heart.
You know better, I told myself. You’ve seen what she’s seen.
But how could I know better when all she did was spew those disgusting positive mantras all the time? They weren’t
even mantras. They were cultish phrases that made her seem like a robot. In my head, I didn’t mind the hurt or the fear. I
processed it by feeling it, not ignoring it.
People like Kylie didn’t make sense to me. Good thing we weren’t actually real mates. I’d get tired of that crap real
quick.
“He’s kind of handsome,” Faye added. “Pale, though.”
I snorted and rolled my eyes. Every woman wanted a tall, dark, and handsome guy without knowing whether or not he
could protect her.
Kylie shrugged. “I don’t mind.”
My eyes couldn’t have rolled any harder. Gee, thanks.
Faye tapped her chin. “And the tattoos?”
“Who doesn’t have tattoos these days?”
As much as I despised her attitude, she had a nice way of defending me. Even after I’d rejected her. Maybe she wasn’t
half bad.
Faye wrinkled her nose. “The hair…”
“It’s just white hair, Faye. What do you want? To marry him?”
Faye cackled.
And not one bit of that sound sliced through my heart. Nope. Because I was a steel fortress. And women like them
wouldn’t ever get to me.
Never.
Faye skipped forward a few feet and flipped around, jogging backward to keep her pace with Kylie. “I’m not saying
that. I’m just saying maybe it’s not that big of a deal.”
“Virginia got him a place here. He must be important to her.”
“Then she should mate with him.”
Kylie shook her head. “Virginia already has a mate, remember? Slater.” She sighed. “Fred doesn’t seem bad. He just
seems grumpy.”
Wow, what a vote of confidence. While I didn’t shit rainbows or vomit sunshine, I didn’t think I was that dark. I
retained a realistic view of the world—every bit of its horrifying glory.
“Yeah, he seems kind of…” Faye trailed off while pointing to her right temple. “You know, maybe there’s some screws
loose up there.”
I growled as I shuffled behind a tree and paused for a second. Loose screws? Seriously?
 Kylie stopped and flipped around. “Faye, did you hear something?”
I kept perfectly still behind the trunk, hoping to hell and back I hadn’t blown my cover. Because this looked bad. To
anyone else, I was being a huge creep, not keeping an eye on my best friend’s sister to make sure she didn’t meet a worse fate
than an IED out in the middle of the road.
I was pushing the limits here. But I knew better than to move. So much as a twitch would set her off and I’d be caught
red-handed.
And then I would hear even more statements from Faye about my unworthiness as a mate.
Goes to show what she knows, I thought angrily. I’d make a great mate. If I wanted to be one, I could.
Kylie pursed her lips thoughtfully and then turned back to her friend with a shrug. “Must have been a squirrel or
something.”
“You have some sharp senses.”
“Faye, I’m a wolf.”
Faye giggled. “Uh, duh. We’re both wolves. But I don’t have nearly as much sensitivity as you do. It’s like you were a
spy in another life.”
Close enough.
Kylie chuckled. “I think it’s just from watching my cousins growing up.”
That wasn’t particularly true. Kylie had been at Liam’s side for years after their parents got killed. When Liam said
jump, Kylie did jumping jacks. She did everything with her brother short of going to the bathroom and taking showers. She
didn’t have cousins growing up—none of us did.
She was probably talking about the black ops.
“Did you have a big family?” Faye asked.
Kylie nodded. “Yeah, roots everywhere.”
Considering we’d been stationed in many places, that had a hint of truth. Our missions were relatively small, but we
could end up camping with up to fifteen additional soldiers at a time.
That was back when I was doing it, anyway. I wasn’t sure about the four years following my forced retirement. While
that irritating meeting with my previous boss haunted my mind, I kept a close eye on the woman who had been announced as my
mate.
I truly hoped it was just a ruse put up by the alpha, because Kylie and me together was just plain bad news.
“My brother is around, north,” Kylie continued. “I don’t hear from him much.”
Unfortunately, that remained mostly factual. Liam didn’t like putting those he loved in danger, so he kept
correspondence to a minimum. Usually, something coded came through the mail on a postcard, or there would be an encrypted
email that needed an entire team of cryptologists to decipher.
And it always turned out to say something like, Hey, what’s up. Miss you. Alright, take care.
Ass, I thought. You could be nicer to your sister, you know.
As soon as the girls got to the end of the rocky path, I scooted on to the next tree, trying to stay as casual as I could just
in case people were watching. Nobody was lingering around from the meeting, but I couldn’t be too sure. If it came down to it,
I could just use Jermaine as an excuse.
Kylie paused and clicked the heels of her sneakers together. “Well, at least this means I get a new path.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, I don’t have to worry about Fred. He doesn’t mean anything to me.”
Yet something about the tone of her voice told me that was partway a lie. Being in the black ops for so long had helped
me learn the dozens of ways people could withhold the truth, and all the signs that signal just that. By Kylie’s rigid stance and
stiff upper back, I could tell she wasn’t being entirely honest with her friend.
Then again, Faye had no clue about Kylie’s past. All their walks were void of any black ops information, which was
for the best, and for the safety of everyone in the pack. Besides the alphas, Jermaine, and myself, nobody knew Kylie had been
in the black ops at one point. The same applied for me.
Even Virginia didn’t know about my past. She just knew I peddled in some illegal circles around town. That was the
bulk of it.
Faye huffed and waved nonchalantly. “See? No harm done, right?”
There was no way both of them were that bad at lying.
I stared at the back of Kylie’s head, watching the way her hair bent to the breeze. She seemed to be sizing up her friend,
or maybe trying to get a gauge on how much lying she could get away with this time.
Best to keep it simple, love, I thought. Don’t let the lie turn into another lie.
Kylie shrugged. “Right. No harm done. On to the next mate.”
“Since when do you date?” Faye chuckled. “You don’t even leave the pack.”
“Hey, I go places when you aren’t looking.”
Faye strayed off the path, heading toward the woods. “Want to go for a quick swim? I’m feeling grimy after that weird
meeting.”
But Faye didn’t wait for a response. She took off running, giggling like a maniac as Kylie ran after her. Given the
circumstances, I knew I had to keep a close eye on Kylie in case Bernadetti got any ideas about scoping out the supernatural
scene. One whiff of this pack might send him in this direction—or maybe he wouldn’t care.
There was no way to know.
At the end of the day, I had to cover my bases. I walked briskly onto the path and headed in the direction the girls had
taken. As soon as I reached the trees that separated the path from the ocean, I noticed a couple of things resting on the bushes up
ahead. Two shirts, two pairs of pants, and some shoes with the socks stuffed in.
I rubbed the back of my neck. Liam had said to protect her at all costs.
If the cost was to see her a little bit naked, then hell, I’d take one for the team.
 Chapter 4 - Kylie
I never quite understood why I took a job at the community center. Not much about it felt appealing other than the
organizing side of things. While a lot of folks who came through just wanted to plan a birthday or retirement party, I got a
wedding reception every so often. Sometimes, it was the wedding itself.
Since Blake and Troy were going trigger happy on the mate announcements, weddings were booming. We were taking
requests left and right to rent out the recreation center, the barn, or any other patch of land available on the Beaufort Creek side
of things. Less often, somebody asked to have a party on the beach. Those were easy.
But I was getting tired of parties and nuptials. I was getting sour just from staring at the emails on my screen from
various dating websites. Meet your match today! None of the dating services had really appealed to me, but I was curious
about them. I was curious about meeting someone.
Who am I kidding? I can’t even leave the perimeter. These were just fanciful dreams I was having. It wasn’t like I
could initiate a conversation, let alone actually meet somebody. I was fooling myself. I never clicked on the emails to sign up,
but I thought about it. I really thought about it.
I sighed while stepping into the lobby of the community center. This wasn’t really the life I’d pictured when I went into
hiding. I had thought maybe I’d find a nice little spot to tend to a garden and maybe do the farmer’s market thing like Karla and
Cora. They were living a sapphic paradise dream up in Canada.
Technically, I didn’t need the money from the pack. Liam had dropped a huge sum on my apartment. I wasn’t hurting for
cash or anything.
I pushed on the glass door, letting the breeze into the lobby. I’m just bored.
Something about that public rejection the other day felt weird. I didn’t have any feelings for Fred as far as I knew. Not
the slightest tingle in my gut. My chest didn’t heave at the sight of him, and anyway, what was that supposed to mean if I
couldn’t catch my breath around a guy? Allergies. That was what that would mean.
Men made me feel funny, and not in a creepy way. Just funny. Like I didn’t much know what to do with myself.
Sometimes, a guy would waltz into the community center looking to do something extra with his time—volunteer or something.
I usually handled the lists for that kind of thing. Maybe sometimes it would be a cute guy, or even a handsome guy.
But nothing would happen that made it feel extra special. I didn’t feel compelled to text or, heaven forbid, call to
follow up on a number I’d been given. Guys just weren’t my thing. If I wanted to have fun, I could watch the pile of rom-coms
on my watchlist and drink a bottle of wine by myself.
Who could I date that wouldn’t mind me being in hiding? It wasn’t like I could tell anyone. Fred would have been
perfect because he knew everything about me. I wouldn’t have to lie for once. I wouldn’t have to cower in fear or wonder if he
was going to leave as soon as he found out I could kick his ass right after applying the perfect daytime palette to my eyelids.
I just wanted to be a normal woman going overseas for a normal competition with other normal people.
Shifter status aside, it would be nice to get out. I would accept something as simple as a ride into town so long as it got
me some fresh air. I was getting tired of the mates thing. Left and right, up and down, I couldn’t escape the mates business.
Everybody talked about it. Every person in this place lived and breathed for the mating ceremonies.
The breeze rustled my hair as I stood in the open doorway. People were probably talking about me right now. They
were probably gobbling up that nonsensical rejection, that horribly awkward and quiet way that Fred had trudged out of the
room. Everyone had been quiet after that. Shoot, with so many heartbeats in that room, it hadn’t been quiet at all. It’d been
thunderous.
I could still hear it now, my shameful inability to recover marked by the sticky sweat clinging to my upper neck.
After pushing the door wider, I stepped outside. I walked on the main path for a bit, staring at the structure that had been
erected just a few weeks ago. Right when Virginia and Slater got married, Blake had started building a greenhouse. As far as I
knew, it was probably Fred’s doing.
I didn’t see him around much. When I did, he ducked out of the way like he was avoiding me. Did Liam put him up to
that? Pfft, it wasn’t like my brother had told me a shred of anything since I last saw him. Where was he now? Canada?
I bet he’s having fun with the girls without even telling me. My heart sank. FOMO is such a bitch when I can’t go
anywhere. Doesn’t he know that?
Panic swelled in the back of my mind, forcing me to turn sharply toward the greenhouse. No one really went in there. If
Fred was in there right now, he would probably just leave. It was probably the best place for me to have a panic attack if I was
being honest. Fresh vegetation, foreign plants, trees—heck, I could do with a change of sight and smell.
I picked up the pace, jogging until I reached the door. To the right of the door was a posted ad asking for a plant
caretaker. Funny enough, the actual title was plant caretaker, and it made me think of Victorian houses with thick cobwebs and
creaking doors. A caretaker for plants—wouldn’t that be something different? Wouldn’t it be nice?
I launched inside. A calm quiet fell over me as I just stood there, waiting to feel something happen. Something.
Anything.
But nothing came. Not a sound. Not a tweet from a bird outside. Just silence.
In its simplicity, I felt serene. For once, I didn’t have to listen to the drone of gossip or drama around me. I didn’t need
to heed the panic crawling up my spine over a flashback. I wasn’t forced to engage in small talk or avoid the questions about
why I didn’t have a mate, why I never left the community center, or why I turned down invitations to the events in town.
So quiet. Could the rest of my life be like this too? Maybe someday.
Hope returned, the tiniest sliver of it curling to rest somewhere in my mind. It inspired me to move forward, to study the
towering plants and flowers, the unfamiliar stalks of oceanic blue, and the strange shapes of the pink petals—or maybe they
were leaves—of some plants that seemed to be from another dimension.
A lot of the flora here didn’t resemble the outside world. There was so much verdant green, yet also such vibrant
kaleidoscope shades of red and orange, pink and blue, that I wasn’t sure if it was real or if maybe I had fallen asleep at my
desk again.
Maybe I was drooling all over my keyboard. Or maybe this was another place entirely. Finally, a place that didn’t feel
like a prison, more like a wonderful forest. It was then I realized how much I wanted to be the caretaker of this place. Lovely
dreams might sprout from communing with such pretty plants. Shoot, I needed dreams for once. The nightmares were getting to
be too much.
I paused near a plant with large orange bulbs and plump leaves the size of my hands. With a chuckle, I reached out for
the bulb, surprised by the way the bulb parted, looking more like a huge mouth than a collection of petals and leaves.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
I snapped my hand away just in time for the plant to chomp at me. As I reeled back, I ran into a massive palm tree—
only the palms seemed to whisper something that made me stumble away. I covered my head and ran for, well, more cover to
try to get away from whatever was happening in the greenhouse.
Suddenly, the silence broke open like a crater opening in the earth. Great cracks and booms echoed in my ears, sending
me back to Tehran. Back to the car. Back to the explosive device underneath us.
Beep, beep, KABOOM.
I covered my ears, the deafening roar forcing me to curl into a ball. Cover the ears. Cover the head. Protect the head.
My brother’s words came easily to me, recounting the right steps, the right ways to ensure my success on any mission.
Look alive but play dead.
That was his motto. That would protect me until the very end.
A piercing shriek rang through my ears and then a glittering light beckoned me to open my eyes. I blinked a few times,
staring up into the most delicate irises that reminded me of springtime. Odd, considering the face that held the eyes. The rest of
him was pale with freckles of rusty orange.
I sat up, nearly knocking my head into his. “Fred.”
He hissed while cradling his nose. “Need you to dial back on that alertness, soldier.”
I studied the roman numerals tattooed on his fingers. The ones on his right hand had always been there. But the ones on
his left hand—the same hand holding his nose—were new. “Where did you get those?”
He coughed and then revealed the speck of crimson under his nose. “Uh, from just now, genius. You head-butted me.”
“I didn’t even feel the—” I grimaced while bowing toward my knees. Oops, there it went. The pain. I felt it snap right
through my eyes like a botched lobotomy. “Sweet good goddess, that’s awful, wow.”
A disgruntled snort signaled his position—to my right a few feet away from me—and the sound of a door squeaking
lightly told me he was going somewhere. Strange. I hadn’t noticed any other doors in here. But this was a new building, and I
hadn’t ever been in here, and it seemed to be a playground for Fred, so—
“All that Krav Maga and you still manage to be a klutz.”
 I blinked up at him, clearing the spots in my vision. The pain wasn’t as intense, but the lingering effect of slamming my
skull against his had certainly cracked something open between us.
He shook a bag of ice in front of my face. “Hello. Take it. Seriously, Mullen Two. Worse than your damn brother.”
I snatched the bag from him and plopped it against my forehead. Cool relief had me sighing within seconds. “Don’t you
talk about my brother like that.”
“Sends me one Christmas card, one postcard with that stupid pinup on it, and then lumps you into the equation.”
The bag slid down enough for me to peer up at Fred. “What?”
Fred glared at me. I mean, he really gave me this hard stare like he was trying to laser through the bag of ice and get
into my skull. Was he trying to read my mind?
I lowered the bag. “We’re civilians now, aren’t we?”
“Just me.”
“I’m not in an active operation.” I played with the bag. “Nobody wants to give me a mission. I’m in hiding.”
Fred nodded slowly, absently. “Sure. Nobody wants to compromise your position.”
“Correct. Civilian.”
“You’re not a civilian, genius.”
I snarled. “Would you stop calling me that?”
“Would you stop acting like a genius?”
I gestured widely at his collection of…well, I supposed I could just call them plants. “Want to explain this to me?”
“It’s a hobby.”
“When did this happen?”
He shrugged, averting his gaze. “Years ago. Whatever.”
“Four years ago?”
His gaze sharpened but he still didn’t look at me. “Yeah, something like that.”
I thought about the roman numerals on his fingers, and then it hit me. I stood up, wobbled a bit, and then planted my
hands on my hips. “Those tattoos are your exit date.”
“Real quick on that sniper, aren’t you, genius?”
“I swear to the heavens, if you so much as think of that word in conjunction with me again—”
Fred exploded with chuckles. They were shocking sounds coming from such a stern guy, but boy, did they break the ice
of my irritation. I already had ice. I didn’t need more ice from his attitude, so the laugh—so full of life and warmth—really
eased my anxiety.
When he was through laughing, he wiped his face. Goodness, he couldn’t be any stranger than he had been growing up.
I tossed the bag of ice from one hand to the other. “Where have you been?”
“In town.”
“That explains a lot.”
He studied me quietly, no expression blooming on his face despite his eyes dropping to my waist. “Do tell.”
“I can’t leave the pack, or else I would have probably run into you in town, right?”
His demeanor sank. Was that disappointment I saw in his eyes? “Not with the circles I ran in.”
“How do you know that?”
“I don’t know, Kylie. I don’t control fate.”
I tossed the bag at him, hoping to catch him off guard. He didn’t even have to look when he grabbed it out of the air.
And then he tossed it over his shoulder where it landed in a bin underneath a window.
I squinted at the window. “Is that a kitchen?”
“Are you here for a reason?”
“Yeah, I saw the posting.” I tried to skip around his irritated tone. We used to be friends at one point, right? I didn’t
understand what had happened. “The plant caretaker thing. I want to apply.”
 He made a high-pitched squeaky sound that sounded like he was about to start laughing again. Though I expected his
expression to change, nothing but his eyes seemed to hold liveliness. It was like he was dead everywhere else. Dead from the
missions he had carried out.
Dead from being considered dead for so long, no doubt.
“Well?” I snapped.
It wasn’t like me to act like that, especially not with Fred, but he had really gotten under my skin with that performance
at the pack meeting. One rejection was fine by me. But two?
He had to know the details of why I was hiding here. Why was he trying to make it harder for me? “I guess there’s
always tomorrow.”
There—that did it. That got a reaction out of him. I didn’t know how, but saying that really did it.
“There’s only ever today,” he said stiffly. “At least for those of us who aren’t treated like royalty in a damn castle.”
“I didn’t ask to hide here—”
He snorted. “But you sure have lapped it up, haven’t you? I mean, you’ve gotten really fancy with the damn makeup
these days. It looks good.”
I blinked with bewilderment. “Is that supposed to be an insult?”
“It looks damn good because you have all this time on your hands while the rest of us are cleaning up the tiny fires
leftover from Tehran.”
My throat tightened. “Don’t you dare talk to me about that mission. You weren’t even there. You have no idea how
slimy it felt for Bernadetti to—to do the—” I choked.
Now something really must have cracked between us because there was a moment—a split second, I swore—where
Fred started to move toward me with a sudden spark of concern in his eyes. I knew because the green was typically solid, cold.
But right this second, right when I was about to break, the sharp emerald softened to a forest pine.
Softened. Just for a second.
“Kylie, I—” His face hardened, eyes dropping to the ground. “You should leave.”
“Yeah, I should.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. If I hadn’t known Fred personally, I would have thought it was spite or annoyance—
but I knew it was him resisting the urge to smile. This was my brother’s closest friend, the guy who had been with us from the
very start of our black ops journey.
I knew him. And he knew that.
And part of me, regardless of how much I knew it was useless, wanted to stand firm and fight. I took his command as a
challenge, one that I wanted to pick apart until he was firmly annoyed. Then maybe he would understand the frustration of the
other day, how he had lost something that could have been actually kind of nice.
The way he tightened his lips into a firm line flexed the muscles of his neck—and then I noticed how much the corded
muscle of his arms seemed to follow suit. I’d known he was fit, but damn, I hadn’t realized he had such good-looking arms.
And when he fashioned them expectantly over his chest, ouch. I just wanted to know for a second how they might feel wrapping
around my waist.
Another round of blinking helped me clear away the wonder. I squinted up at Fred and shrugged. “Fine.”
As I spun around to walk away, I noticed the aisle behind me had changed drastically. What used to be a path was now
a huge row of those strange, whispering palm trees. After swallowing my fear, I held my head high and weaved my way
through the trunks to get to the other side.
Each of the palms waved gently over my head. One or two of them tickled my shoulder on the way through, soft
syllables reaching my ears that felt encouraging. A couple of the thick trunks parted. Ahead was the door for the greenhouse
leading back to the outside world. For a second, and just a second, I wanted to stay behind. I wanted to explore the wonder of
these trees and plants.
I paused at the mouth of the tree aisle to peer back, noticing the trunks had created the perfect tunnel leading right back
to Fred.
The same Fred who was once glaring daggers into me now appeared more sorrowful than ever—and I couldn’t figure
out why that made me want to run to him.
 I fought the urge, reminding myself that it was him who wanted me to leave. And as I forced my muscles to obey the
command, I felt something. Maybe it was the first time I had ever felt something for somebody of the opposite sex that wasn’t
pure empathy, but it was definitely something, and it had my thighs aching as I jogged away from the greenhouse.
 Chapter 5 - Fred
I was never one to regret things, but sending Kylie out of the greenhouse was bothering me. That girl made trouble look
mild—and it wasn’t entirely her fault that the hands of fate had molded her life this way.
As I’d already told her, I didn’t control fate. I couldn’t loosen the threads or snip a couple of them to make her web
look different. I just couldn’t do that. But what I could do was follow the carefully laid out orders of a close friend to keep her
safe.
I was doing that, right down to the damn syllable. So, why did I feel like I had just made a huge mistake?
Tending to her was second nature. People who worked in the arena of death just did that for each other. And for Kylie,
her flashback wasn’t surprising, just off-putting. It was too random to be inspired by anything in the greenhouse. But that was
kind of the thing about PTSD in these cases.
Much like the enemy in an active warzone, we never knew when it was going to hit. Her slim, delicate fingers had
locked perfectly over the back of her head as she’d bowed to the ground. It hurt to see her make herself small. She was reduced
to a trembling cocoon.
Interestingly, unfolding her limbs hadn’t been difficult. She seemed to know my touch, her warm autumnal flesh pliant
under my rugged hands. Soft skin like that belonged to a woman who wasn’t weighed down by night terrors. She had sighed in
her hazy day-mare, the flash taking her consciousness temporarily and dropping her somewhere in the past.
When I’d rolled her over, I saw the worry knit into her features, the delicately trim brows warped together and dimpled
with concern. Strands of reddish-auburn hair clung to her lips and cheek. I plucked them away so she could breathe better.
And goddess, that breath she took had sounded like the first inhalation after a coma. Her eyelids fluttered. Her irises
swirled with a hazelnut that blended with dots of green. They were like hazel stones containing the various colors of the ocean.
Her full lips kept drawing my attention like I expected her to say something.
But she’d head-butted me instead.
The memory made me rub my nose. Some flecks of dried blood crackled from my left nostril. While I had wiped up the
mess, I hadn’t exactly put ice on my nose or anything. That girl had a hard head, and she wasn’t afraid to use it.
Sighing, I turned to the trees.
Kylie wanted to tend to the plants. She came in here specifically to ask about the job, and honestly, the only reason I
had posted it was because I knew I would be away from the greenhouse during the traveling part of the mission. Even if she did
look like a natural among the greenery, she would be with me during that portion of the mission. It wouldn’t make sense to hire
her.
One of the whispering palms beckoned me to join them. Though no breeze came through here, their massive leaves
floated about like they were being jostled by a generous wind. On more than one occasion, I’d caught them dancing like the
long legs of squid in the ocean, wiggling in an aimless drift that seemed inspired by a phantom breeze.
Around the trees were the usual plants—the biting bulbs that nearly poisoned Kylie, for example, situated right next to
the teal stalks that hosted leaves the sizes of hands. In the dead of night under a full moon, the leaves often looked like hands. It
was fascinating stuff to handle plants from another dimension. It took up most of my spare time.
It was also hard work. Kylie would definitely be up for the job, considering her commitment to difficult tasks. The
whispering palms adored her. They didn’t say much that wasn’t gibberish, but they were definitely whispering up a fierce
storm because of her. That energy had caused them to create that strange forest in which Kylie could have gotten lost.
That was the thing about whispering palms. They were tricky plants with nefarious purposes. Most often, they were
used for hiding things. Given their shifting nature, they were perfect for planting outside a safe house or war room. A few of
them would do just fine seeing as they multiplied easily.
Yet their confusing restructuring hadn’t deterred Kylie at all. And why would it? She had experienced the horrors of the
human world. It must have been refreshing to indulge in the wonders of the supernatural dimension for a change. Yeah, sure, we
got to see people turn into animals or levitate pretty much all the time. That was the usual stuff.
But these trees? This greenhouse? It was one of a kind. Anybody on the supernatural black market would have literally
sent an army to retrieve the leaves of the kaleidoscope plant. Those healing gems were also psychedelic in nature. Blake
allowed me to grow them for both research purposes and bartering tools.
You never knew when you needed an illegal plant to get somebody to do something.
A palm landed on my head. Though it didn’t say much, I got the message just fine.
 Go after her.
Why would I do that when there was nothing I could do to fix the situation? Liam had said to protect his sister at all
costs—and occasionally that cost might be her emotions. Alright, so maybe Liam hadn’t said to hurt his sister’s feelings, but
what was I supposed to do instead? Coddle her?
Go after her.
I shrugged off the whispering palm and got to the greenhouse door, looking back at the five rows of perfectly prim
plants. Every single one of the whispering palms got back into place like they had never moved. Good. I didn’t need them
acting up too. I had bigger vegetation to worry about cutting down.
Like Bernadetti.
My burner phone buzzed in my back pocket. I whipped it out as I pushed out the greenhouse door. A giant ray of sunlight
like a spotlight smacked my vision, making me cringe. Nothing like the sunny disposition of the daytime to get on my nerves.
I jabbed the green button and held the phone to my ear. “What?”
“Well, hello to you too, sunshine.”
I grimaced. “Shut up, Liam. It’s your sister.”
“What’d she do now?” His tone was playfully expectant.
“She’s just being Kylie.”
He chuckled. “Well, let her be Kylie for a little longer. We got coordinates.”
I stopped in my tracks. Could it really be over so quickly? “No shit.”
“Bernadetti was spotted at a gas station just outside of Beaufort. Looks like he’s heading into town.”
“Fuck.”
I picked up my pace again, easily trailing after the scent Kylie had left behind. My nose twitched at every turn. It was
hard to ignore the distinct scent of rose that carried me toward the community center. In the lobby, the scent faded. A few
passing shifters gave me curious eyes with plastic grins. I tried to smile. The shifters briskly walked past me while huddling
closer to each other.
Well, gee, it seemed my smiles weren’t looking too realistic these days. After brushing off the awkward encounters, I
jogged down the hallway to the right, following the faded rose scent. She had been here at one point, but she wasn’t here now.
Maybe she’d run home.
“Fred,” Liam said into my ear. I nearly dropped the damn phone that I’d forgotten I was holding. “Yeah, what?”
“I sent the coordinates to Blake with an update. He knows what’s going down.”
“Time for a ride?”
Liam coughed and hacked. Must have been that cold again. “10-4.”
I nodded curtly, ended the call, and headed back to the lobby. Empty couches, empty desk. Not much happening in the
way of community these ways, eh? This was Kylie’s world, not mine. I didn’t care much about the children’s paintings on the
wall or the mural just behind the welcome desk. It felt weirdly polished in a marigold color with white stripes.
Hell, everything did when I spent most of my time in a cubicle with a crowded loft above it. Space felt strange when
there was so much of it. And in here, with the scrubbed white tiles and tan walls, I felt like I was suffocating. Like the walls
were closing in on me.
Like I was exposed.
I darted out the door and took a left. More of her rose scent in this direction. I could catch Kylie before she ran off for
the beach or took her bike. The thought of shifting into my wolf form wasn’t particularly appealing because then I would have
to shift right in front of her, and then I’d be naked, and then we’d really have a problem on our hands.
My thoughts jumbled up. I’ve never been worried about being naked around her. Why am I worried about it now?
No, we didn’t have to worry about things like that when our special black ops units were made entirely of shifters.
Wolves had mostly been the top choice for a long time, but we had a few bears and lions as well. Shame didn’t come easily
when shifting would save the lives of many. Nope, not a damn bone in my body carried any hint of bashfulness about being
naked to shift.
But the thought of being naked in front of Kylie made my stomach knot.
 At all costs, I reminded myself as my pace quickened. Don’t get shy about shifting in front of her just because she’s
gonna see your junk, man.
The dirt path forked ahead—to the left was the bustling neighborhood and to the right was the path leading to the fields.
I could cut past the cornfields, duck into the woods, and cut Kylie off before she hit the sand.
Easy.
Doubt crept into my mind as I took the path to the right and broke into a sprint. How did I know Kylie was heading for
the shore? Aside from the information I’d gathered about her since I got here, I didn’t know for sure that she was going to the
beach. Technically, she should have gone back to work given the time, but she wasn’t there.
Her scent led me this direction. I hauled gulps of the alluring rose scent into my lungs, the presence of it inspiring a
feral desire to shift into my wolf form right this second. Adrenaline like I hadn’t felt in ages heated my limbs and encouraged
me to move faster.
Yes, finally, the thrill I had been seeking for the past four years was right here. No wonder Kylie did so many activities
—biking, hiking, running, swimming. It was a rush, and adding a little danger to the mix could really get the blood going. Black
market transactions had initially given me that spring in my step, but only because they were illegal in both the human and
supernatural worlds.
What used to be thrilling had become like an office job. But running after Kylie—knowing that I would be taking her
right into the heart of danger soon—made my blood rush through my body like I was about to encounter the boss at the end of a
long video game.
My heart thumped through my ears as I slowed my pace near the cornfields. From beyond the trees came the distant
sound of waves, though with my superb hearing, I could have very well been standing right next to the ocean. I reduced my run
to a jog and honed in on my hearing, adjusting the volume to a lower level so I could hear everything else in the area.
Years of training had taught me precisely how to handle my enhanced senses. Untrained soldiers had a hard time
separating things like city noise from individual sounds. Because I had a mentor like Liam, I was able to develop my
heightened senses to perform for me in the specific ways that I needed.
Most shifters could just hear everything at a louder volume. Though plenty could pluck distinct things out of a jumble of
noises, it would take a while. And these days, most shifters didn’t need to do that anymore. There weren’t any wars as far as
we could tell, and our pack wasn’t under any kind of threat.
So long as nobody finds out about those poisonous bulbs…
I jogged up the miniature hill to the tree line and stepped over the threshold. Everything changed as soon as I entered the
forest separating the pack from the ocean.
How was it that things could change so drastically from one moment to the next? Just moments ago, I’d been bickering
with Kylie in the greenhouse. Now I was in hot pursuit of her scent to get her back to—
Shit, what was I about to do? Apologize?
Protecting her at all costs came with a cost on my damn pride, it seemed. It wasn’t like I had done anything wrong. I
knew better than to hand her a caretaker job that she wouldn’t even be present to do, and besides, the plants needed round-the-
clock care that was incredibly sensitive to fluctuations. How the hell was she going to balance her cushioned office job with
the demands of a supernatural greenhouse?
Oceanic salt tinted the breeze along with a luscious explosion of roses. I closed my eyes and allowed my nose to lead
the way, using skills I hadn’t touched for a good while. My body acted as a beacon that alerted me when a tree or debris was in
the way of my path. I stepped around or over the obstacles. I shoved things aside. I stumbled out onto what felt like the resistant
sensation of sand clutching my boots.
I opened my eyes, revealing the rich sapphire water winking with white strips of sunlight. Clay-brown, tan, and onyx-
black specks made up the sand, as vast and expansive as the ocean. A few large boulders sat on the sandy waves, leading to the
edge of the water where Kylie stood.
Her hair blew wildly around her head, lit aflame by the afternoon light. Her golden skin reflected a bronze sheen under
the direct sun, drawing me to her like a bug to a zapper on a porch. Logically, I knew that taking Kylie into town would be one
of the last big moves of the mission.
After our trip, I wouldn’t necessarily need to stick around if I didn’t want to.
I stared at her backside, noticing the amber halter top that she had pulled up to expose her midsection. White shorts
hugged her curvy hips and accentuated her round bottom, stopping mid-thigh where her delicate skin resumed. As I approached,
more of her profile came into view, and I noticed her shoulders bowed forward toward her hands that were clasped in a prayer
position at her chest.
She was lost in thought. And something about the way she was staring at the ocean made me want to stand guard. There
was a slight furrow to her brow, a worrisome crease to the corners of her mouth that were sloping toward her chin. That kind
of deep frown didn’t come from arguing with me. No, it had to be more than that.
I had to find out what it was.
“Kylie,” I said—but the wind swallowed my voice. “Kylie!”
She whirled to face me, eyes round as moons with vibrant sea-like colors living inside the hazel brown. Her thousand-
yard stare went on for a few minutes as her hair was whipped around her face by the ever-changing wind. Sea salt burned my
eyes. Roses tickled my nostrils.
She squinted. The worry dissipated, but what I saw there didn’t exactly feel that much better. It was a kind of strange
disappointment that came with rejection.
With my rejection.
Maybe turning her down in front of the pack hadn’t exactly been one of the smartest things to do. At all costs didn’t
include mating with her. And really, it contrasted the orders I was given. What the hell had Blake and Troy been thinking when
they paired us?
A second later, Kylie stumbled toward me. Her chin tilted back as she approached so she could hold my gaze. I always
forgot how short she was until she stood right in front of me. The uneven sand started to swallow my right boot.
“Come on,” I said over the breeze, “we’re going out.”
She blinked. “What?”
“I’m taking you into town.”
“For what?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Do you like anything in town?”
She grabbed my shoulders. “I swear to the goddess herself, Fred, if you’re joking right now—”
Goddess, the way her fingers burned through my cotton shirt was like radiant fire. It pulled me right toward her
unwillingly—though I wasn’t complaining much about proximity with her eyes keeping my attention.
“I’m not joking,” I assured. “Blake’s orders. We’re going into town.”
Hope twinkled in her eyes. Though the rest of her expression drooped a bit, she seemed alright with the statement.
Alright enough to loosen her grip on my shoulders.
But she didn’t let go. And she didn’t step back. “I like boba. And waffles.”
I nodded. “Then we’ll get some.”
“Right now?”
I glanced at the dim screen of my brick-like Nokia. Right now might be too soon for Liam to set everything up with the
Blondes. Tomorrow would be better.
I took Kylie’s hand and tugged her toward the trees where the ocean and the wind weren’t roaring in my ears. Again,
the burn came through her fingers, a singular flame seeming to exist in her palm that encouraged me to hold tight to her.
Allegiance might have inspired that kind of feeling—or something else.
But I didn’t want to think about it.
“Tomorrow,” I told her as I marched forward. She tugged on her hand, but I wouldn’t let her go. “You’ll go tomorrow.”
“Fred, why are you dragging me through the woods?” she groaned as she fought against my grip.
I laughed. “I’m not even holding you that hard.” I peered over my shoulder. “What’s wrong, genius? Have you lost some
of your strength?”
She tipped her head back with a defiant smirk as she dug her heels into the ground. My shoulder and elbow made a
resonant pop sound as the joints were abruptly pulled taut. The motion allowed me to pivot about on my heel, so I was back to
towering over her. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out how to wipe that aggravating smirk off her lips.
It would have to be something smart, something that she wouldn’t expect.
Like a kiss.
 “Oops,” she said with a shrug. “Guess I don’t know my own strength.”
I released her hand. Heat slicked my palm where our skin had practically fused together, the sudden sensation of cool,
salty air making me feel like I was missing something without her hand in mine.
She rubbed her palms together, and it made me think perhaps she felt the same thing, until she opened those plump,
glossy lips of hers. “If we’re not going now, what are we doing, soldier?”
“Going back to base.”
My eyes scouted the trees, branches, anything that moved—but never once did I feel like avoiding her gaze. Every
chance I got, I looked right into those hazel delights, trying to tell myself that the warmth growing inside me was just excitement
for the mission ahead.
Just for the mission. Not for Kylie.
And certainly not for the hope that sparkled in her eyes.
 Chapter 6 - Kylie
I stood on my front porch with my hands shoved in the pockets of my pleated skirt. The tank top I wore was the shade of
pink coneflowers with a few swirling ivy designs on it in an elegant green. White tennis shoes, scuffed up from wearing them
for everything but tennis, covered my feet decently enough. Maybe I needed new ones.
My eyes never left the dirt road. A couple people had passed by this late afternoon, but it had mostly been quiet since
I’d come out here and leaned against the freshly painted posts. Faye was probably in her apartment—sectioned in half, so the
left side was mine and the right side was hers—doing that sweaty yoga stuff she went on about. It got a bit musky in the foyer
that separated our apartments on the days she practiced it.
I zoned out while staring at the cobblestones leading to the dirt road.
One year in hiding had pretty much robbed me of any good socialization. I mean, I couldn’t fault my pack for being
weird with me—I was technically still a stranger around here—but I wasn’t sure how to interact with them. I didn’t know how
to join their celebrations or talk to other people inside the community center.
Those compact offices were usually pretty busy most days, and I found myself drawn to the crowds just as much as I
wanted to go for a ride on my bike. Yet no matter how much I tried to indulge myself with other people, I just missed too much.
Like the part where I got to act like everything was normal.
Because I had to face it at some point—I couldn’t leave the pack. I couldn’t waltz beyond the perimeter marked by that
grumpy bear, Jermaine. If I stepped a toe out of line, Jermaine showed up with the troops and I was escorted right back to what
was deemed a much safer zone.
One year of that had made me feel a little stir-crazy. So, when Fred had said he was taking me out of town—well, I sort
of lost my mind.
After he’d authoritatively marched me off the beach, I’d parted ways with him at the forked dirt path leading to the
community houses. Mostly, it was family cabins situated next to various homes sectioned into separate apartments that had
gorgeous green yards, Christmas lights in the windows, and awnings decorated with flowers.
So many flowers grew here. So much greenery sprouted from every part of every yard. Outside in the human world,
most lawns were just lawns. They were for showing off how short the grass could be and how barren the yards could get. One
of the things Id liked when I first arrived here with Liam was how much they utilized their spaces.
And neighbors were actually neighborly. That was how I had met Faye and gotten to be so close to her.
Or as close as someone in hiding could get to anyone.
Maybe I wasn’t as bad at socializing as I thought.
I heard the truck before I saw it—and then I had to cover my mouth while the tank shuddered up to the stony curb. Fred
leaned out of the open window on the driver’s side and patted the spotty metal like it was the most spectacular vehicle he had
ever driven.
After a couple of hesitant steps, I realized the pride on his face wasn’t for show—it was real.
I rounded the front of the rugged truck, noticing how the metal bumpers had plenty of scuffs and dents. The faded teal
paint had dozens of sun spots. The side mirrors were larger than my head. I felt like I was hauling myself up the side of a cliff
after I yanked open the hefty door to get inside.
The engine rumbled. Fred toggled the gear shift while the behemoth chugged forward.
“Isn’t she gorgeous?” he called over the center console—which I noticed was made of torn white leather with bright
green stitches. It reminded me of his eyes.
The same eyes that were staring ahead at the road with a simple contentment shining through them. A second later, he
was casting that shimmering glee in my direction, revealing a more striking verdant shade dashed with flecks of yellow. In his
eyes, brand new worlds existed, ones I hadn’t seen before.
I beamed. “I expected you to get mad about me taking too long to get to the truck.”
“What kind of asshole would do that?”
I shrugged while ignoring the voice in the back of my head mentioning the ex-boyfriend who had ditched me at the altar
—Drew.
To Fred, I smiled and said, “Good point.”
 “Just because I see the realistic side of life doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy things, Kylie.” He toggled the gear shift again as
he yielded right, turning toward the road that would take us out of the pack.
My heart raced.
Was this really happening?
“Sure,” I agreed. The truck lurched, sending me into the passenger door a bit harder than I anticipated. “Goodness, she
handles like a boat.”
“Isn’t she dreamy?”
I chuckled. “Fred, I’ve never seen you excited about anything that wasn’t a homemade bomb.”
But it was like he didn’t really hear me as he ran his hand over the dashboard. “This baby has seen some real history.”
“What is it with you and old stuff?”
The corner of his mouth—the side that faced me, anyway—twitched up. It was like a smile was slicing into his cheek.
Honestly, it was a bit intimidating because Fred, the guy who spent most of his time hunched over a keyboard, barely did much
grinning unless something was really interesting.
Like this truck, for example.
“I like vintage things,” he admitted as he shifted to second gear. We were hitting the twenty-something mile range of
speed. “Blake has a Jeep in better condition, but I’ll save that for a rainy day.”
I was starting to feel our increased speed as the wind snapped through the wide-open windows. I rested my arm on the
metal, feeling the heat of this morning’s sun glowing there. I felt like I was waking up after a long, deep sleep.
With the engine making that guttural roar and the breeze flinging my hair about, I felt like I was on the edge of something
brand new. We waved at Jermaine in the security booth, and right as we paused at the mouth of the pack entrance, I felt my
heart jump into my throat.
This was it.
I was venturing out today for the first time in a year.
A whole damn year.
As the truck lurched onto the main road, I couldn’t help the smile on my face. Tears stung my eyes as the lump in my
throat exploded, sending pressure right through my chest and to my core. Excitement consumed my very being as we hustled
right up to twenty, thirty, and then forty miles per hour, each threshold marked by Fred adjusting the gear shift to the appropriate
number.
I didn’t much understand manual vehicles, seeing as we had plenty of automatics, but the sheer joy that reverberated
from Fred right now—the jovial pleasure that poured out of his eyes as he dared to look over at me—shoot, nothing could beat
that feeling of satisfaction.
Nothing at all.
We didn’t speak much as we headed into town. It wasn’t until he pulled up to a normal-looking street in the most
normal-looking part of Beaufort that the sensation truly hit me.
I wasn’t on pack land anymore.
I shivered as I hopped out of the tall truck, wincing as I forced the door shut. “Might as well name it Goliath or
something.”
Fred appeared from around the front of the vehicle and stood near me with the keys twirling on his right finger. They
didn’t make a sound as he spun them around the digit, eyes glowing with interest as he stared down at me. He tucked his left
hand into the pocket of his baggy charcoal-black pants, dipping his shoulder in that direction in a sort of nonchalant, bad-boy
kind of stance.
His black shirt had gray stripes and looked like it had seen better days. It hung loosely around his muscular frame,
hiding what I knew to be defined pecs and abs underneath. It almost seemed unfair to hide that statuesque physique on such a
warm day—but who was I to judge his poor fashion choices?
I fixed my hair and glanced around, feeling overwhelmed by the sight of beautifully constructed tar roads with
sidewalks, decadently trimmed trees, and shops as far as the road extended. Boutiques, antiques, tourist spots, and local cafés
made up this road. I wanted to go inside every single shop and talk to every single person in the vicinity.
I was practically salivating over the idea.
 But as I tried to brush past Fred, he caught my shoulder, his touch like lightning against my bare skin. “Boba first.”
“But I wanna—” My faraway stare stopped short at the sight of his thin lips parting.
Oh. I hadn’t realized how close I’d stepped, or how he had drifted toward me to keep me from walking off, or how he
was bowing toward me, his white hair scooting over his eyebrow and drifting toward his mouth…
I pushed the lock of hair behind his ear. Right then, I felt the whole world shift, like we were two wolves standing on a
rotating disc. Too much weight in one direction would topple us off, so we had to stay still. I had to stay still, or else I might do
something weird with the guy who didn’t even have the dang balls to tell me no to my face.
“Sorry, I just…” His attention dropped to my mouth. No way were we both doing the same thing right now. He tried to
give me some excuse for why he had stopped me. “I just didn’t—”
“Want me wandering off?”
Neither of us moved. Were we just frozen in time now?
He blinked. He stepped back. He looked away.
And I tried to pretend like that didn’t make my heart sink.
He seemed to shake off the funk and put his usual steel mask into place. Sharp eyes, stone expression, a flat line for a
mouth. His brows were relaxed, but I could tell he was watching everything, even if he didn’t look in any specific direction.
He nodded toward my right—there was a boba shop right frickin’ there. I’d been so distracted by the street, by the fact
that I was free, that I just hadn’t noticed it.
Among other things.
He opened the entrance door for me, guiding me inside by the small of my back. The slightest pressure there made heat
blossom in my core. I stepped up to the counter, inhaling the rich smells of baked goods and freshly brewed tea. Everything
looked so good that I couldn’t figure out what I wanted to get.
Behind the counter, the short attendant wore a visor with cat ears over their red hair and a thick mask that had whiskers
on it. Their smile was evident in their crimson-brown eyes even though their mouth was hidden. They wore a typical barista
uniform made of a black collared shirt, slacks, and a matching black apron with a giant kawaii cat paw printed on the front.
Fred leaned toward the counter and ordered quickly in a husky voice. “Two strawberry milk teas, half sugar level, star
jelly pearls, regular sized.”
The attendant quietly tapped the screen in time with his order.
“Two mochi waffles, one chocolate and the other—” He narrowed his eyes at me like he was trying to read my mind.
“—and the other brown sugar.”
I just couldn’t stop blinking at him. I couldn’t believe he was ordering for me. I couldn’t quite grasp how he was just
figuring things out as he moved along. It wasn’t like we were on a mission or something.
“And a sitting cup of coffee for whoever wants it.”
I raised one brow at him. “Sitting coffee?”
“It’s for people who can’t afford to buy a cup of coffee,” the attendant explained. “Coffee on reserve.”
I nodded with a grin. What a lovely thing to do for a stranger. It made me look at Fred differently for a second—
because it didn’t seem like something he would do. Yet in all the time I had known him, it wasn’t like he was an asshole.
Not necessarily nice. But not an asshole either. I was impressed.
Fred plucked a duct tape wallet from his pocket, handed over a few bills, and waved off the receipt offered to him.
“Tell Mauve I said hi.”
“You got it, Fredster.”
The attendant smiled at me with their eyes and then wandered off to complete our order.
I was plain stumped by the time Fred got me to move down the long black counter to the pick-up window on the other
side. “How—why did—how did you—?”
“You really think I spent the last four years living under a rock?”
“No, it’s not that. It’s just—” I gaped up at him and added softly, “Has it really been four years since I’ve seen you,
Fred?”
Faded memories seemed to be playing in his mind as he shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “I paid attention on the
few missions we shared.”
“The brown sugar was a great guess.”
“Liam mentioned how he used to make you two—”
“Brown sugar waffles,” we said simultaneously.
My heart lurched in my chest like it was a gigantic manual truck being driven by a grumpy shut-in named Fred.
I smiled weakly. “I miss him.”
“I know. Me too.”
“Is he okay?”
He shrugged. “He’s fine. You know Liam.”
“Yeah. He knows me.”
“I know you too.”
Our eyes locked, and goodness me, the way the world tilted again made me nauseous. Something was happening here,
something much stronger than Fred just inviting me out on a whim—no, on Blake’s orders.
“I don’t know what you did,” I admitted gently, “or why you changed your mind—but I’m glad you did, Fred. I haven’t
gone anywhere in a year.”
He nodded slowly. “Took some string-pulling, but Blake allowed it in the end.”
“Is that because he wants us to be mates?”
That word sounded bizarre coming out of my mouth, and I noticed how Fred squinted at the statement like it was a
poisonous snake.
His gaze drifted south past my nose, my lips, my chin…
“We’re not supposed to be together, Kylie,” he said in a low voice. “We just don’t match. We don’t get along.”
“Because we’re definitely not getting along right now.” My words were teasing, but my stomach was doing that flip
thing that happened when I looked over the edge of a tall cliff.
I felt like I was about to fall over.
“It’s not that.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “We’re total opposites. You’re all fashion and makeup. I’m practical.”
I chortled while tugging on his shirt, stretching the worn cotton thin. “I can see through this. That’s how fragile this poor
thing is.”
“You’re missing the point.”
“I think I’m enhancing the point.” I straightened my posture so that I was standing as tall as possible next to his
somehow-still-tall-while-hunched position. “Opposites can attract.”
“Are you making a case for us being mates?”
My whole face stiffened while I froze up. “I mean—I didn’t say—I wasn’t trying to make us sound good together.”
His eyes grew brighter as his pupils blew open wide. “You’re cute when you’re fumbling over your words.”
“And you’re just cute.”
Just as we became statues again, the attendant brought our order over. We gathered it up and went outside, settling in at
a black table with a huge umbrella over it. More cat paws and kawaii designs. It was too cute, too overwhelming, too sweet. I
didn’t want to go back home, but I knew that moment was coming since our trip was already halfway over.
I lifted the cup of milk tea, shook it, and then popped one of the oversized straws through the plastic kawaii film on top
so I could slurp up a few tapioca pearls. Flavorful jelly exploded over my tongue while I hummed contentedly, continuing to
slurp the sweet stuff greedily until one of the beads tapped my uvula. I choked, sputtered, and then covered my mouth while
trying to catch my breath.
Fred slid one of the mochi waffles over to me on wax paper. “Try not to die before you eat this, genius.”
“Try not to be so sour about everything.”
“You know what they say about old habits.”
I sniffled and cleared my throat. “And you know what they say about opposites.”
 He gave me a critical glare that held a hint of a smile behind it. But before he could really smile, he shoved the giant
straw into his mouth and took a long sip. Now I wasn’t the type to really pine after someone, but if it had to be anybody, Fred
was a great choice. He had gorgeous eyes, smooth pale skin, and this whole grouchy bad-boy façade that would have been
perfect for the lead in a murder mystery film.
He was plain hot. I didn’t have any problem admitting that. What I did have a problem with was how he treated me like
I was a problem.
I set the boba aside to lift the waffle. Heavenly sweetness filled every bite, causing me to hum so much that Fred gave
me an inquisitive look. I didn’t care that it seemed like I was a prisoner suddenly experiencing the outside world for the first
time in several years. (Technically, that was true.) I was just happy.
Happy.
And it was all thanks to Fred.
Our eyes locked again. I had half a mind to smile, but my mouth didn’t want to work well enough to thank Fred for the
outing. Whatever he had done to make this happen—or whatever had motivated him to do it—I was beyond grateful.
Say something. Sitting like this, I was level with his gaze, able to meet him head-on. It felt good to be on the same
level. It would make my thanks feel more meaningful. Just say it, Kylie. Stop stalling.
“Fred?”
His brows twitched up. “Yeah?”
“I just wanna say—”
“What?”
I nipped my lower lip. “The sunset looks really nice from here, right?”
He started to respond, but held up a finger while reaching into his pocket instead. Goodness me, that Nokia had to be a
thousand years old at this point. How was it still working? He pressed the green button and held it to his ear.
Without breaking eye contact, he listened. He nodded. He ended the call.
Concern swirled in those verdant seas. Who called him? What did they say?
“We have to go,” he said pointedly. His gaze flickered over my shoulder, to the truck, to the road behind him where the
tourist shops were located. When his gaze fell on me again, he sharply snapped, “Now.”
 Chapter 7 - Fred
Kylie reluctantly climbed back into the truck that Blake had allowed me to borrow. While I wanted to spend more time
talking to her about the sunset, I knew we had to drive back to Beaufort Creek pack land—slowly, diligently.
Like we weren’t setting a trap.
Silence fell over us in the cab. I kept my eyes peeled, my senses sharp. Everything came in striking contrast through the
mildly scratched windshield. Sunlight bounced off the window, blinding part of my view of the street. We had to get back
before the sun set completely.
Kylie cradled her boba cup and the half-eaten mochi waffle. “Thanks.”
I paused with my hand on the ignition. The key was in place, the dash was blinking to signal that the key was just sitting
there. I was holding it there. I was waiting for something to happen.
My attention spanned left to right, up and down. I couldn’t lose sight of our surroundings with what I knew. Liam had
called to tell me that Bernadetti was officially in town—that meant we had to make our presence known without getting caught
in a trap.
Kylie reached out to touch the radio. I gently pushed her hand away. “No, we should ride back in silence.”
She snorted with disbelief. “This thing won’t allow it.”
“Don’t you call her a thing,” I warned as I turned the key in the ignition. The engine fired up, sounding like a
remarkable gem of the past. “She’s a she. And she has feelings.”
“Well, sounds like you found your mate.”
I couldn’t for the life of me understand the ire in her voice. Sure, it should have been a playful jab, a joke. But it didn’t
sound like that. She made it seem like I was really choosing the truck over her.
What was with her and the whole mate business? It wasn’t like we would ever actually get along. She was starting to
get on my nerves about it.
My tone soured as I popped the truck into gear. “At least she doesn’t act like the sun is shining right out of her ass.”
Liam would have cracked the hell up if he were here. Perhaps he would have suffered Kylie’s irritation along with me.
I felt her anger while I cautiously peeled away from the curb and drove up the main street. Sunlight winked off shop windows,
car windows, signs. Nothing made me lose sight of our surroundings.
Nothing except for the way Kylie leaned over the center leather console and frowned with as much menace as she could
muster. “You are such a grump. Do you know that?”
“I’m realistic.”
“You keep using that word.”
I nodded curtly, tapped the blinker to signal I was about to turn right, and stopped at the stop sign. After checking that
the street was clear, I turned right, managing the gear shift as the truck picked up speed. Everything was muscle memory at this
point. I didn’t need to pay much attention.
Until Kylie poked my arm. “Say you’re sorry.”
“For what?”
“For being rude!”
I chortled as I came upon another stop sign. Blinker. Right turn.
Kylie poked me again. “Liam would make you apologize.”
“Or he would join my team and gang up on you.”
“I’d have to punish him too if he did that.”
A nostalgic smile crossed my lips. Not many of those these days. Not much happiness inside me. Thinking of Liam
definitely made me smile, though. It wasn’t so bad when I thought of the old days.
Well, until the old days turned into recent days. Those memories weren’t great.
My smile faded. “Yeah, well, he’s not here.”
“Why do you sound so mad about it?”
 “Aren’t you?”
She quietly sat back while the engine chugged on in the stretch of silence. That was a lot less awkward than whatever
passed as pop music on the radio these days.
She shrugged it off. “Liam does what he wants.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“Did you two have a lovebirds fight or something?”
I cocked my right brow in her direction without losing focus on the truck. “Why do you say it like that?”
“I don’t know. Because you two are so close.”
“Not closer than you.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched her plop her chin into her hand and look listlessly ahead. The boba cup sat
between her knees. The mochi waffle was largely untouched on her left thigh. With how much the truck vibrated, it was getting
ready to jiggle right off her lap. She absently blocked it from falling toward the center console.
Her nostrils flared. She probably sighed under the growling engine. “You’d be surprised.”
Damn, that wasn’t a very good look. Here I thought my best friend would at least keep in touch with his sister more
often than me. I guessed he wasn’t impressing us in that department.
I hated to see her upset about it. Nothing was worse than watching a star have her shine dimmed by depressing
realizations. Granted, I wasn’t the type to be positive, but if she needed a boost, then she needed a damn boost.
Even if it was at the expense of my ears.
“Alright,” I said louder, “turn on the damn radio if it would help.”
She popped upright and reached for the knob without wasting a second. Crackling sounds came through the speakers
first, then the upbeat clang of a guitar rhythmically following a basic bass beat.
I hunched toward the steering wheel as I reached the stoplight that would take us out of town. The brakes squealed a bit
as we came to a stop, my hand firmly on the gear shift. Now it was just pop music and the engine chugging, and merciful
goddess, Kylie was singing along to whatever this crap was called.
The more I had to listen to it, the more my shoulders crunched in. She pressed her arms to the ceiling and tilted her head
back, wiggling to the rhythm—or what passed as rhythm, I guessed—as she shouted the lyrics. A car pulled up next to us with a
couple of guys far more interested in her than I liked.
Kylie didn’t mind. She was lost in her own world, pink-decorated eyelids closed and glossy lips in a wide smile.
Smooth skin hosted the perfect contour that didn’t make her pores look big like it did on some women who weren’t as
experienced with foundation, or whatever it was called.
Nothing but joy on her face. Happiness on her lips. Smiles and more smiles.
It looked good on her.
The guys in the car to our left, a beat-up looking Honda that probably needed an oil change by the smell of the exhaust,
honked a few times to get Kylie’s attention. I growled while turning the volume down and leaned over the console.
“Hey!” The guys stiffened when they saw me. “Yeah, you. Why don’t you stare at someone else, huh? Pick up your jaw
off the ground and mind your own goddamn business!”
As soon as the light turned green, I took off, subconsciously reeling from how much those guys were pissing me off.
Seriously, they had acted like they’d never seen a gorgeous woman in their lives. Kylie was dreadfully adorable today with her
colorful halter top and pleated skirt. The tennis shoes were a nice touch.
It was like I was protecting the Girl Next Door. But she was actually more of a Girl Who Could Kick Your Ass. Looks
could be so deceiving. That was why I appreciated Kylie’s company. She didn’t try to act innocent or play off hurt. She was
real. She was honest.
And I didn’t think it was right to let some weird guys annoy her for having a good time.
Kylie laughed while clutching the door handle and the center console at the same time. The boba cup was fine between
her knees, but the mochi waffle had completely disappeared. I hoped she’d eaten it. I hoped it wasn’t on the straw-covered,
filthy floor of this truck. She was a beauty, but she was also in desperate need of detailing and a coat of paint.
The truck, not Kylie.
We cleared another light where I retained my speed. “What’s funny?”
 “You scolded those guys so hard—” Her cackles grew louder as she bowed forward to hug her stomach.
I made a left at another light and joined a long two-lane road that would take us to the highway. And that would take us
back to the pack. Hopefully, my cruise through town had helped Bernadetti get some eyes on us. The Blonde Dalmatians were
in position, so I didn’t have to worry about alerting them or Liam.
I just had to get Kylie home in one piece.
Both gigantic mirrors reflected an empty road behind us. I relaxed a little bit, allowing my stance to become more
casual than the hunched grump clutching the wheel and gear shift. Those guys had gotten under my skin just by gawking at
Kylie.
Needless to say, I took my responsibility to keep her safe at all costs very seriously. Once her laughter faded and she
took a huge sip of her boba, she collapsed into her seat, taking gulping breaths of cool air that thickened with the scent of salt. I
smelled roses right over it—that was Kylie.
And for some reason, the scent of her drew my attention. I looked at the way she reclined with her seat belt snug over
her lap, arms sprawled on either side of her, hair wild around her face. The lip gloss had smudged a bit, but everything else
was perfect. The shadow and eyeliner were top-notch.
She looked natural. She looked like she trusted me.
My heart twisted in my chest. I turned back to the road, trying to resist the urge to look at her again. Another distraction
would get us hurt. It wasn’t like I didn’t have eyes in the sky and on the ground to keep us safe. But I didn’t want to get caught
off guard.
That wasn’t something I wanted Kylie to relive.
Once the entrance sign appeared ahead, I slowed the truck. I flipped my signal. I took a smooth right onto the gravel.
Now that we were back, I didn’t have to stay as guarded. Jermaine was at the security post where he saluted us. We saluted
right back. In her neighborhood, I felt a creeping paranoia that put me on edge.
I parked in front of her apartment and shut off the engine. “Maybe I should come inside.”
“For what?”
“To hang around.”
She gave me a curious look that sent her trim brows right into her hairline. “To hang around?”
“What? I can’t hang out with you?”
“The other day, you wanted nothing to do with me. You barely said hi to me before we were announced mates.”
I scoffed. “Yeah, well, that’s different than—”
“Yesterday, you laughed at me when I said I wanted to be a plant caretaker. Then you chased me down to the beach
where you demanded to take me into town.”
I glared at her. “Hey now, I didn’t demand—”
“Oh, no. I’m not done talking.”
She held up a finger while slurping the last of her boba. The sound rattled my nerves, but I didn’t want to argue with her
if she was going to make a point that let me get into her apartment so I could check the windows and locks.
After she smacked her lips, she sighed. “You take me into town, treat me to something so delicious it makes me want to
cry, and now you want to hang out with me even though you said, and I quote, we’ll never get along.”
My glare turned into a shameful stare. She wasn’t wrong. I just hated hearing it out loud like that. Without the
appropriate context, I just sounded like a wishy-washy jerk.
“So, you must have a truly good reason for wanting to come up to my apartment to hang out,” she continued. She slurped
a tapioca jelly pearl into her mouth as though it intensified her point—and it did. “Please and thank you.”
A good reason? Well, I had several damn good reasons to go up to her apartment right this second and do a security
check. Come to think of it, the yards needed to be inspected as well. And what about her little friend, Faye? Did she need to be
questioned for any particular reason?
Aside from that woman, Kylie didn’t truly hang out with anyone else. Was there a reason for that? Maybe she wasn’t as
bright and sunny as I remembered.
Regardless of those facts, I had to do something to ensure her safety. Promises were important to me. Just because it
was part of my mission to protect her didn’t negate the sincerity of my promise to Liam that his sister would be safe in my care.
I meant to do right by that assurance.
At all costs.
“I want to hang out,” I started with an even tone, “because I want to see if we can be mates.”
Kylie stared at me for a while. Her eyelids fluttered as her mouth twitched into a temporarily hopeful grin. Then she
broke into a full-on witchy cackle. She popped open the hefty truck door, hopped down, and grabbed her mostly empty boba
cup from the seat.
“Mates,” she mocked with traces of laughter lingering. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
She slammed the door, the pressure of it whacking the frame and reverberating through my body. Her laughter faded as
she walked up the cobblestone path to her apartment home, but I could still feel it in my bones. I felt it vibrating like the engine
when I started the truck.
It hurt. I couldn’t figure out why, but it did. More than that, I was about to break a promise to a friend.
My Nokia went off. I yanked it out of my pocket and checked the screen, translating the coded text in my hand to an
alarming command from Jermaine to get Kylie the hell out of Dodge.
Shit.
I had to think of something else to make sure she was protected—and I had to do it fast.
At all costs.
 Chapter 8 - Kylie
“What a day.”
I say that to my apartment like it can respond. With the way things have been lately, I wouldn’t be surprised if the walls
started spitting back some things I’d told them in confidence. These old mustard-yellow walls needed a fresh coat of paint.
That would probably perk them back up, no doubt, and I kept thinking about it as I stared at them.
This half of the house was mine. I had a tan carpeted staircase on the right side of the living room that started at the
entry door. To the left was a fireplace that sandwiched the doorway leading to the kitchen. Sparse furniture surrounded me,
picked through from yard sales, thrift stores Faye had visited, and a few items donated from the pack when I first arrived.
Three beanbag chairs, two couches, and a coffee table somehow fit into this cramped living area, but it felt good to
stand here. It felt good for something to be stationary and mine. And yet, at the same time, it felt odd.
Because I didn’t have Liam with me.
Fred had dropped me off an hour ago. Or I should say that I left Fred an hour ago, sitting in front of the cobblestone path
next to the mailbox in his borrowed truck as I laughed my way back to my apartment. I stepped onto the porch, unlocked the
main door, and walked inside to head to the left where my side of the house was located.
It wasn’t until I was inside that I realized he had left. The truck’s engine had roared to life and then chugged off when he
drove away. Somehow, it left me feeling empty.
I shook my head as I wandered into the kitchen. Yellow and clay-red tiles made up the floor, and the walls were
covered with lighter yellow wallpaper hosting little dancing marshmallows. I remembered when Faye had helped me pick it
out. We’d spent an entire Sunday decorating the kitchen. Sandy tan counters held plenty of appliances and pots. The sink sat
against the far wall under the window, with the fridge on the right and a door leading into the backyard. The door was bolted. I
never really used it much. It was too overgrown back there.
As I glanced around, I furrowed my brows. “What did I come in here for?”
Maybe tea. Maybe a change of space.
Maybe nothing at all.
I went to the fridge with a sigh. Nothing appealing. Great, now I was stuck in my head while trying to figure out what in
the world had changed Fred’s mind about giving the mate thing the old college try. He’d been pretty firm about us not being
mates. One trip into town had done…what? Given him perspective?
Cool air hugged my midsection that was exposed by my pink crop top and white spandex shorts. I shivered and shut the
fridge door.
Fred was up to something. I couldn’t determine what precisely, but I could tell he was hiding some pretty big details
about our trip to Beaufort. The offer was sudden, my presence was demanded, and then he received a strange phone call on his
ancient Nokia phone while we were out that had changed his entire energetic structure.
It was like he was watching out for danger.
I frowned at the marshmallow wallpaper. Is he up to something with Liam?
My jaw ached from pressing my teeth together. Goodness, I was going to get a headache at this rate trying to think up
things that didn’t even exist. I had no proof of Liam even being involved. My brother was sneaky, but he wasn’t that sneaky,
and he was a terrible liar.
Then again, I hadn’t seen him since he dropped me off last year. Things had been bumpy since then, and at the same
time, I felt like I’d been able to experience a completely different world. This one was safe, kind, and boring. Excitement was
few and far between these days—and that was why I’d let Fred kidnap me with his monstrous truck and grouchy demeanor.
I had loved every second of it. I adored the way he took care of my body, guided me, and ordered for me. Never in my
life had I experienced someone taking the lead with the intent to please me instead of impressing me. Because Fred gave zero
F’s about whether or not he was impressing someone.
My ears twitched, and then I was at the kitchen sink staring out the window into the dimly lit yard. Part of me felt like I
was being watched. That was a feeling that kept coming these days. Maybe it was partially paranoia, or maybe it was the fact
that I had Jermaine and his security detail keeping tabs on me.
Was someone back there tonight?
I want to hang out. Fred had said that like we were old friends. Yeah, duh, it was true. We were old friends. We had a
long history of being friends.
But we weren’t close. He’d never even looked at me before the other day, during that meeting. And the look he’d given
me then was one of those attractive, soul-stopping kind of looks. It drew me to him like a thirsty animal to water. Until he’d
turned to our alpha and said he couldn’t do it.
A shadow passed over the window. I blinked a couple of times while my instincts took over. Moving slowly and
deliberately, I shut off the kitchen light. I stood in front of the sink and focused on the old house, hearing the muted sound of
Faye’s pop music playing in her upstairs bathroom—which was up and to the right from my current position.
Another shadow flitted over the windowpane. I felt a sparkling paranoia that tickled my upper back and made the hair
on my neck stand at attention. I was trying to steady my breathing, to keep my heart from kicking into high gear, but it had been
so long since I sensed anything like this. It had been a whole year.
What was going on?
My hands rested calmly on the sink, yet the rest of me stiffened. After a few seconds, my muscles slacked a bit,
allowing me to turn my neck. I heard a shuffling sound from the living room—like someone was inside my apartment.
Sometimes, Faye came over and just lounged on the couch. It could be her. But she usually announced herself when she
came inside. Besides, the door was locked. She would have had to use her spare key. Which was a sound that was tuned in to
my body whether I wanted it there or not.
It had been quiet the whole time I was thinking. Yet my thoughts had been loud enough for me to drop my guard.
What’s going on?
Paranoia slammed into me as I flipped around to face the shadows in the kitchen. Nothing but the doorway spilled light
into the room, enhancing the shadowy corners and making me feel like I was being swallowed by the void. No one was here.
But I could feel something.
I took a tentative step forward, and then another, carefully tuning out my fear so I could focus on the cabinet to my left.
Taped inside the door was my hunting knife. I could grab it to defend myself and then—
And then, I got drowsy. The room spun. Everything went dark.
I was deep in sleep, and I couldn’t get back to the surface.

***
Disorienting light welcomed me back to the world of the conscious. Since I couldn’t see, I used my remaining senses to
figure out what the hell had happened to me—maybe there would be a clue about why I had passed out in the kitchen lingering
nearby.
Had I not eaten enough after I got home? Sheesh, that was a question for the ages. Because I never skipped meals. I was
a scheduler and an organizer—so everything was planned right down to the millisecond. Usually. Typically.
Evidently, not today.
A shuffling sound echoed from my right. It moved to the front of my awareness, revealing a scent that felt eerily
familiar.
Evergreen.
That was the scent of the greenhouse. That was the smell that had gotten my attention on the beach even when I’d
thought I was alone. Evergreen dragged me the rest of the way up the metaphorical tunnel to the surface of everything, right on
top of a wooden chair in the middle of a sparsely decorated room. Something pungent tinted the air.
I was most certainly not in my apartment anymore. Some kind of glittery trails swirled around my head. My shoulders
stiffened. My body froze up. I was stuck. I couldn’t move—yet there wasn’t a speck of rope in sight from what I could see. No
duct tape. No handcuffs.
Just the swirls.
“You’re awake,” said a gravelly voice. The evergreen scent intensified at the sound. Because that was a sound I knew
all too well. And the way his voice shifted made my heart skip a beat. “Sorry I had to do this to you, but you wouldn’t let me
in.”
My eyes flickered north. There stood Fred, the guy who had taken me into town hours ago—or how long had I been
here at this point? Rage started at the base of my spine and worked its way up through my body. Even though I couldn’t move, I
could say everything I needed to say right now while he was standing there.
But no matter how much my nerves tingled, my tongue flicked forward, or my nostrils flared to draw and exhale air, I
couldn’t speak. My lips felt like they were glued together. More of the glittery swirls gathered at the front of my mouth. As they
drifted south and out of view, I felt them lace around my throat.
Oh, that was just cheap. If he was using magic to retain me, then he was breaking about a dozen supernatural laws. Not
to mention the human world and their legal jargon. Any higher-up official in the supernatural world was going to have a field
day unraveling the conventions getting broken here.
Aside from it being totally immoral, and the fact that it was a practice that had been banned from the black ops since the
seventies, it was just plain cheap.
And that made my rage boil to a breaking point.
Through my eyes alone, I expressed my disdain, pupils expanding as wide as possible so I could get every detail of his
stance and demeanor. The cold stone mask he frequently wore was traded for one of unfortunate regret—and that was just too
much. I couldn’t handle seeing that.
Because if he regretted this, then that meant I couldn’t predict his actions.
I was screwed.
“Your brother said at all costs,” Fred whispered huskily. His eyes dropped to my lap, sorrow clinging to his pinched
brows and tense jaw muscles. “I’m sorry, Kylie. I couldn’t think of another way to protect you.”
What?
“I told him it wasn’t a good idea.”
My chest flared with hot rage. What is going on?
“I told him I had a bad feeling about it. I just didn’t think it would work.”
He laughed bitterly. What made it so horrifying, aside from being so abrupt, was the fact that his expression didn’t
change at any point during his laughter. Fred could really be scary at times. Did he know that? Was that why they’d forced him
out of the black ops?
He shook his head and then sat down across from me. “You should sleep, Kylie. We have a long night ahead.”
Good goddess, how could he recommend something like sleeping when I was strapped to a chair by an invisible force
that glittered in the orange light?
In warm light. Like firelight.
I tried to crane my neck, but I couldn’t really look around. Fred had plenty of connections in the black market from what
I understood. That meant he had access to magic untouched by the usual supernatural world. Whatever it was had a potency that
made me panic.
More than that, it felt silky. It felt calm. I didn’t feel threatened by what held me in place, and maybe that should have
been a comfort, but I couldn’t help assuming the worst.
My brother had taught me to be suspicious of everyone, no matter what. Because the cost could be so much greater than
the disappointment.
Right now, disappointment circulated my system as fast as my blood. I didn’t know what to do with it or how to process
it. I was too tired to fight against my restraints and the magical glue that held my lips together. So, I really didn’t have much of a
choice other than sleeping.
I didn’t like that.
Fred sat up while studying the door. It was barred with enough iron to scare the fae away. “Don’t worry. I won’t sleep.
I’ll keep an eye out.”
For what? Neither of us were in danger, unless he had done something after he dropped me off.
Had my hiding place been compromised?
Had Liam gotten hurt?
More panic swelled with the tears that blotted my vision. They were hot and they burned my eyes as they spilled over
my cheeks. None of my training could have ever prepared me for such an experience. An old friend, not really a close friend,
but close enough, had just kidnapped me. We were alone in what appeared to be a one-room cabin somewhere that probably
wasn’t Beaufort Creek pack territory.
 I didn’t know what was going to happen. But I needed my strength.
With reluctance, I let my gaze drop. I focused on the floor, noticing the way Fred’s boots were only a foot away from
me. He was within touching distance. How was I supposed to trust him enough to sleep when he was that close to me?
His boots shifted. I saw him lean forward. And then—
The dizziness came again. A flicker of shadows came next. And I was thrown once again into the blackness of sleep
that I couldn’t control.
Trust him? Shoot, I didn’t really have a choice anymore.
I didn’t really have any control.
 Chapter 9 - Fred
My melatox plant had come in handy once again. Kylie fell asleep as soon as I tapped her forehead with the cotton ball,
sending her into a peaceful snooze that I hoped would prevent her from panicking again. While I couldn’t read her thoughts, I
could tell by the panicked flicker of her eyes searching mine for a thread of truth that she was freaking out inside her head.
I disposed of the cotton ball inside a plastic bag, being careful not to touch the side soaked with melatox. That stuff was
largely harmless but wickedly potent. A tap could put just about anyone or anything to sleep within two seconds. I’d seen
dragon shifters in their skyscraping dragon forms go down from a drop of this stuff.
The bag rustled as I set it on the table to my right.
The magical binds were for her safety and mine. I knew she wouldn’t trust me. I knew she wouldn’t let me convince her
to come inside her apartment, and I wouldn’t be able to get her out of her apartment without raising too much suspicion. So I
did what any soldier in my position would have done.
I kidnapped her.
Strange how the fire haloed her creamy skin. She was in a pink crop top and white spandex shorts, the kind that hugged
her hips to accentuate her curves. The way the firelight danced around her form, her skin appeared lit up with golden hues.
Glittery tendrils—the binding spell—floated around her body, close to her flesh.
She looked like a glowing goddess. Her hands were calmly set over her thighs. Her shoulders were slouched forward
slightly as her chin drooped toward her chest, but she didn’t look uncomfortable. I’d been assured by my contact that this
particular spell, done with a simple strip of magical tape to the nape of the neck, would never cause any discomfort or harm.
It would simply keep her from moving around and talking. Eventually, her lips would be freed as that part of the spell
wore off, but the rest of her would stay still. That was it. That was the spell. Minimal damage.
Well, the physical damage was minimal. Emotional damage? That was for a philosophical debate later on in the
evening when I chose to release her from the binds of the spell. Though I wanted so much to avoid arguing with her, I knew I
would have to let her out of the spell eventually.
She would need tea, food, a bathroom break. She would need to sleep on a cushioned surface on her own terms.
She would need to talk my ear off about the conditions of her kidnapping.
I stood from the chair and went to the window, tracing the windowpane that had been diligently painted with a clear
film of magical paint. This place was just outside Beaufort Creek pack land, tucked deep in the forest away from the main
roads. I made sure to cover our scent using a bottle of skunk urine that Jermaine had loaded into the Jeep for me to use.
His caution matched mine. When he’d sent me that text earlier, I drove directly to him at the mansion to trade out my
gorgeous hunk of a truck for the Jeep that Blake had originally offered to me. That hour had been spent preparing—and then I’d
gone to collect Kylie.
My goddess-given talents weren’t merely confined to computers and technology. I was a remarkable chameleon for a
wolf shifter, and I had my ways of ensuring my safety.
Now that my safety included Kylie, things looked a little different.
Clouds roamed the darkened sky. It was close to midnight now. Whenever Kylie woke back up, I would make sure to
get her some tea. Sitting and staring at her was technically my duty, but I wasn’t complaining much. She looked sweet when she
was asleep.
For someone who usually shits rainbows, yeah. She was sweet. I figured the rest of the mission wouldn’t be difficult
once I tuned her in to the plan.
My ears tingled, causing me to turn around. The Nokia sat on top of the black bags I’d brought with us, vibrating on the
lowest setting. I picked it up and checked the screen for the coded texts that the Blondes were sending me.
Their safety had been compromised. My heart sank as I read the details, feeling defeated by the mere notion of anyone
getting hurt on my behalf. Though I knew going into it that the mission would be messy, I wasn’t thrilled that we’d gone off
course.
At least one part of the mission was a success—and that was Bernadetti spotting us while I drove around town. He
hadn’t followed us out of town because he’d gotten distracted by the Blondes. Everything had been going according to plan
until the Blondes got jumped.
Jermaine had sent a small team of three wolves to intervene. Once the Blondes had been taken to safety, Jermaine had
alerted me that Kylie needed to be removed from the pack. She had to be taken out of sight. We had to cover our tracks.
Hence the skunk urine.
Another text rolled in. Jermaine reported that the pack was safe. They’d been able to shake Bernadetti and put everyone
on lockdown. More guilt rattled me as I returned to my chair and focused on Kylie.
Her eyelids fluttered. She was about to wake up.
The small kitchenette behind me held a wood-burning stove and a miniature ice box. Other than the bread box on the
small counter, there wasn’t much else. This place had the essentials—a small pantry for dried goods and nonperishables, a cot
in the corner near the fireplace, a table and a couple of chairs—so it was perfect for hiding.
Not for long. But for a little bit. Enough to catch our breath and regroup.
I poured water from a pitcher into the kettle. I set it on the stove, lit a match for the wood inside, and shut the iron door.
The way it thudded seemed to echo through the room behind me, reminding me how close Kylie was to me at all times. Only a
few steps away.
That should have been the terms from the start. If Blake had wanted me to be her mate as a cover, then I would have
been able to play along. But pride had gotten the best of me. And then I was just plain irritated at having a wrench thrown into
my plan. I was supposed to stand guard and watch, not mate with the damn girl.
But as I listened to the water start to boil inside the kettle, I glanced at Kylie. I watched her serene expression twist as
she woke. I noticed the tip of her nose was red from crying earlier, and her cheeks were flushed too. Perhaps the room was too
warm.
After briskly walking past her, I kicked some sand into the flames, watching them die down a bit and take some of our
light.
“W-what?” Kylie croaked behind me. Sounded like part of the spell was wearing off now. She whimpered and then
groaned, “Wow, my neck hurts.”
I walked past her without looking at her. “Sorry about the spell.”
She smacked her lips together a few times. “I can finally talk. Damn.”
“Sorry about that.”
“We both know you’re not actually sorry, Fred.”
Alright, I probably deserved that, but she didn’t have to say it so rudely. “Yeah, well, you talk a lot when you’re
stressed.”
“And you make rash decisions.”
I pursed my lips angrily while taking the kettle from the stove. It barely had time to whistle. Her tea wouldn’t be
scalding hot, but it would do the trick. It would calm her nerves and make it easier to talk to her.
The tin on the counter only had loose chamomile leaves in it. I had gathered some berries earlier, so I popped those into
the metal mesh tea holder that had a clay mushroom hanging on the end of the chain. With a little brown sugar and a dash of
coconut cream from a can, it was ready.
I carried it to Kylie who frowned at her hands. “I can’t move them.”
I glumly set the mug on the table to the right. “Right—my bad.”
I reached around her neck, noticing how her eyelids fluttered rapidly before snapping open to reveal her hazel-brown
irises. Shocked pupils opened wide as I located the magical tape on the nape of her neck. She just kept looking up at me
without tilting her head, breathing so erratically that I thought she was about to sneeze.
She winced when I plucked the end of the tape up. I slowly peeled it away from her skin, watching how her cheeks
flooded with golden heat as I cradled her now lolling head. Being careful not to touch too much of the sticky part, I folded the
magical tape with my thumb and forefinger as I massaged the back of her neck.
I was bowing over her now, monitoring the way her body responded to having full control again.
Her eyes never left mine. “What are you doing?”
“Bodies can be finicky. Nerves are weird,” I explained softly. “I didn’t want you to convulse and fall over. I’m trying to
ease your nerves.”
Her eyelids batted once and then snapped open again. A soft groan vibrated her throat. Her knees moved slowly,
bumping into my legs and drawing my attention to her lap. She idly rubbed the tops of her thighs, forward and back, slow lines
that seemed to match the rhythm of my fingers against the back of her neck.
From this angle, I saw every exposed inch of her flush with goosebumps. It started at her throat and then trailed to her
cleavage, exploded along her arms, and rolled in waves over her thighs. Magic did weird things to people.
At least she wasn’t yelling at me.
“It’s nice in here,” she whimpered. “It’s so…hot…”
“Too hot?”
She arched in the chair while stretching her arms on either side of her. As she raised them up, I stepped back, carefully
releasing her neck.
Something broke in me. Something strange happened that made me want to scoop her into my arms and never let go. I
wasn’t sure why I felt so drawn to protecting her, or why I was urgently trying to recover my stance. The way her breasts
plumped up as she breathed through her stretch made my cock twitch.
I folded the tape again, and then again, trying to ignore how she widened her legs and did another round of stretching.
As soon as she righted herself in the chair, her eyelids were drooping, and she was grinning sleepily.
I lifted the mug and extended it to her. “Better?”
“As good as it can be after being tied up by my brother’s best friend.”
Add that to the list of things I never thought I’d hear come out of her mouth.
That list was starting to get long. Among the most popular were her saying that I was cute back at the boba shop and her
saying that we got along.
Do we get along?
I studied her delicate fingers cradling the mug. Just then, the fire sparked back to full intensity, the light of it splashing
over her thick thighs as she turned to observe it. “That’s so nice. It’s cozy here.”
“You’re shockingly positive about this whole thing.”
“I can’t change much now that I’m here.”
I stared at her. Was there a damn thing on this planet that bothered her at all? Originally, she’d appeared pretty upset
over the whole mate rejection thing. Then when I had suggested it later, she laughed. It was like she had gotten over it already.
Was that true?
And if it was, why the hell did it irritate me to see her so serene about it?
“That’s true,” I agreed. “I’m sorry it has to be like this, Kylie.”
Her head snapped around, eyes smoldering with fury as she spat, “You sure have a lot of explaining to do, mister.”
She was right about that. I sure did.
I guessed I’d better start talking now.
 Chapter 10 - Kylie
There was absolutely no reason for the removal of that magical tape to feel as sensual as it did. Even as I felt my
agitation rise up again, pouring out of my gaze and from every pore of my body, that passionate and mesmerizing gesture had
me stunned. My thighs ached as my slit reminded me that no one had dared touch me with such tenderness in many years.
I had spent so much time investing in my skills as a makeup artist and a soldier that I hadn’t bothered with tending to the
other things I needed. Like getting laid or having a good time. Those things weren’t important in the middle of war zones or
behind abandoned buildings that weren’t so abandoned.
Never did I have a reason to think of it—until Fred peeled that tape off the back of my neck.
Rippling cold waves roamed my body as I sipped the tea. I smiled weakly at the surface of the milky liquid. “Brown
sugar and—” I licked my lips. “Coconut milk?”
“It’s what we had.”
“Lucky me.”
Fred huffed slightly, a kind of resolved sound, like he was amused by my unsurprising reaction. It was a known fact that
I loved brown sugar. Anybody who knew me decently could state that confidently.
Really, it did feel lucky to have a comfort item in this limbo-like space. I finally got a good look around, confirming my
previous impression of a sparsely decorated cabin as correct.
I looked at the dark window to my right. “Where are we?”
“It’s a cabin just outside of Beaufort Creek land.”
“What’s going on?”
Fred took a crackling breath. That sound was enough to grab my attention, turning me around in my chair as he settled
back into his. The legs wheezed under his weight, then fell silent as he turned into a frigid glacier.
“Your brother is on a mission in Canada,” he explained in a low voice. “He called me before I joined your pack about
a mission I needed to complete here.”
I stared blankly at him.
He rubbed his chin, avoiding my gaze, those ardent emerald eyes glancing at the flames behind me instead. Reflected in
those orbs were dancing spires of carroty-red light. “The mission was simple—I was tasked to protect you from any harmful
side effects of what we needed to accomplish.”
I wasn’t a fan of his tone.
Every syllable carried with it a hesitance that reminded me of when parents skirted around important subjects with their
children. Before my parents were taken from this world, they had done the same thing. They’d tried to lie to us about the
severity of the wolf-vampire wars.
We had been at risk the whole time, but they hadn’t once allowed us to know that information. I’d made peace a year
ago with the fact that they had simply been trying to give us a childhood free of looming danger.
Not that it helped much in the end when they were slain.
But they had tried. They had done their best.
The mug shivered in my hand. I set it on the table to my left and folded my fingers together in my lap.
“Fred, you’ve never been vague,” I stated blandly. “Spit it out. Please.”
He met my gaze then, such a terrifying fervidness that made me think about how close he had been, bowing over me
while he removed that tape. Care. Caution. Concern.
Was that a hint of desire that burned in his eyes—or was that just the flames in the fireplace?
“Operation Paragon.” Fred closed his eyes, swallowed hard, and then resumed holding my gaze. “Bernadetti was never
captured, right?”
“Right.”
His brows twitched together and then parted just as quickly. The way his lips parted and the way his tongue squirmed
around the corner of his mouth made me shudder again. “He was spotted in the States recently. So, Liam called with a plan. If
he got close enough to Beaufort, if he was spotted in town, then—”
 My vision tunneled. “No.”
“I swear, Kylie. I tried to tell him it was a bad idea.”
“No, no, no.”
I gripped my knees while lurching forward. Nausea had abruptly slammed into my gut, making it feel like I was about to
lose every ounce of tea I had just consumed. No, this wasn’t happening right now. It couldn’t be real.
Uncomfortable memories floated to the front of my mind as I stared at the ground. “I know exactly what you did, Fred.”
“Your brother wanted me to protect you while—”
“While you both used me as bait.”
Silence crowded the space between us, so thick that I would have mistaken it for a curtain given how hazy it made my
vision. My heart was slamming against my ribcage. My lungs were burning with the air I was forcing into them. My back ached
while I dug my fingers into the flesh around my kneecaps.
Bernadetti was in every single one of my nightmares. Ever since that explosion, I hadn’t been able to sleep without
seeing his smug smile and hearing those disgusting things he used to say to me whenever no one else was nearby.
Fred dropped to his knees in front of me. It was weird seeing his stern demeanor break into pure guilt.
Ah, so that was the guilt he was feeling earlier. He couldn’t handle deceiving me so badly, could he?
I sneered. “You did this.”
“I told him it—”
“But you still did this.”
Fred bowed his head as he slouched forward, collapsing onto his haunches. “Kylie, I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“You don’t know that.”
I practically catapulted myself from the chair—then stopped when I realized I was barefoot. I wiggled my toes. I stared
at them the same way I did after a lengthy shift in my wolf form.
Fred didn’t miss a beat. He drifted to a pile of black bags I hadn’t seen from my vantage point in the chair and dug
through one of them. When he returned to me, he slapped some socks into my hand.
Grumpily, I yanked on the socks and went to the cot in the corner of the room. That wasn’t a whole lot of distance, but it
was enough to make me feel like I was getting some space from Fred.
I was livid with him and my brother. This whole time, I had trusted my brother to protect me. I’d trusted the pack he
had dropped me in to keep me out of danger’s way.
Yet apparently, there had been an end goal to my presence there.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “You gave me hope.”
Fred looked lost. Even with his height, he somehow appeared to make himself smaller by slouching. As if by doing that
he could absolve his guilt. “About what?”
“About us.” I pointed to my chest where my heart was currently breaking into several pieces. “You gave me hope about
being my mate, and then you rejected me. I knew it was suspicious when you tried to snap it right back. You were using me.”
I tightened my arms over my chest to hug the hurt away.
“Oh, goddess,” I whimpered. “Everyone was using me. Blake set the whole thing up, didn’t he? That’s why he
announced us as mates. That’s why—”
I covered my mouth. It felt like I was about to be sick.
Fred closed the space between us and took my shoulders. “Hey, listen to me.”
I stared fearfully at him with my hand over my mouth. Was it vomit? An angry tirade? Sobs?
No clue. And I didn’t want to find out.
“Listen,” he insisted softly as his thumbs scoped the edge of my crop top’s sleeves. His fingers warmed my skin. They
roved beneath the fabric and captured my attention harder than anything in my life.
I was most certainly listening.
“I am sorry, Kylie,” he whispered mournfully, “because it was wrong to make you the bait without your knowledge. We
should have involved you.”
I glared at him while dropping my hand. “You did involve me.”
“We should have asked—goddamn it, Kylie. You know what I mean.”
The hiccup that surfaced caught me by surprise. I was about to start crying again. Good thing I had washed all that
makeup off right when I got home. I hated it when my mascara ran because of crying. Fretfully, I wiped my cheeks,
preemptively trying to wipe the tears away.
No use. They were coming whether I wanted them or not.
As my anger turned into betrayal, I started to shiver. No longer did I have hot waves of agitation to warm me. I was
robbed of that warmth, consumed by icy layers of disappointment. In my brother. In Fred.
In my pack.
Despite how much my body protested, I shook Fred’s hands from my shoulders and marched to the table to collect my
tea. I plopped in front of the stony hearth, taking deep, shuddering breaths as I tried to collect myself. I couldn’t change what
had happened. I couldn’t make it go away either.
I had to think of something else.
If Fred was supposed to protect me—if the mate thing was a setup—then I had to stop reaching for him. I had to stop
seeing him as the only person in the vicinity who understood my constant uphill battle of a recovery from being in the black
ops. Clearly, he knew many things about me.
But he didn’t seem to know just how big of a mistake he had made.
I choked on a sob. “Where are we going next?”
“We have a rendezvous point set up in Buckhannon, Virginia.”
I nodded at the fire, ignoring the steamy tears that trickled down my cheeks. “10-4, soldier.”
“You can’t hide that you’re hurt, genius.”
“Oh, I’m not going to do a damn thing to hide my hurt, you fucking putz.”
I whirled to face him, sending every aching molecule of anger in his direction. He flinched and stepped back almost
like it had worked. But I wasn’t fooled. I knew Fred. He could easily recover from any kind of offense, if he felt any offense at
all.
In this case, he seemed genuinely upset. However much that was true, it wouldn’t last long. He would erase those
feelings in favor of the mission. Because the mission would always take precedence over everything else.
I rolled my eyes back to the fire. There wasn’t much use fighting the pain that took residence in my chest. It would take
years to reduce the ache, but I was willing to do it so long as it meant we put Bernadetti in his place. And soon after that, I
would have plenty of words for my brother and Fred.
“I assume the objective was to lure him out of hiding,” I said with enough snark to sour the tea in my mug. “Did you
catch him? Did it work?”
I knew the answer to that question. Because if it had worked, I would have gone to bed in my apartment without
knowing a thing about the situation. Maybe my brother would have called and debriefed me. Maybe. So long as it didn’t
compromise any of his plans, of course.
Fred sighed as he walked toward me. I could feel the prickling sensation of my irritation inflaming my skin. It was a lot
like my instinctive awareness of proximity which was sending red alarms through my brain the closer he got to me. A mixture
of defiance, fear, and longing swept through my body fast enough to bring the nausea back.
I closed my eyes.
After all that crap, all that uncertainty, all that joy that came from yesterday and the resulting disappointment today, I
still wanted Fred to hold me. I still wanted to feel his soothing touch, his attentive and tender gaze. I wanted the problems to
just go away so I could just sit with him here in front of the fire and—
And what? Kiss him?
I squeezed my eyelids harder.
When he touched my shoulder, some of my muscles relaxed. “Kylie, it worked. We got him to give away his position,
but…”
Oh, I hated that word so much.
 “…the Blonde Dalmatians got hurt.”
My eyes snapped open. “Karla and Cora?”
“Yeah, they’ve been here for a bit.”
“I see.”
He slid his arm around my shoulder. I let him pull me into him, not fighting the way my body screamed with
simultaneous relief and irritation. I was tired of fighting my emotions. I was tired of fighting everything.
“I think Bernadetti has a team he already planted around here helping him out. I don’t know for sure. It’s just a feeling.”
I snorted, quoting my brother without hesitation. “Feelings aren’t facts.”
“Shut up, Mullen.”
“Make me.”
His grip on me tightened—and that was when I noticed the closeness of his lips to my earlobe. Torrid breaths coasted
my ear, soft static marking the sound of his inhale and exhale. His fingers trailed north over the sleeve of my top, tickled my
neck, and then pushed my hair behind my ear. A few silky strands rebelled and fell back into my face.
His forefinger traced a line from my chin to my jaw. The way his fingers dropped back to my throat sent a sweltering
breeze right to my core. My thighs ached again. Goosebumps flooded my breasts and stomach. That taunting and defiant
statement was being taken very seriously right now. I could feel it.
Right as the flames crackled in the fireplace, his fingers cradled my chin with his thumb tilting my face toward him. My
hair fell over my face. His hair blocked his features. Ragged breaths caressed my mouth as he drifted closer…and then
closer…
He released my chin and drifted away.
Oh, that was so cold. That was so harmful. I turned back to the fire with such a defeated feeling, utterly lost in my head.
Had I done something wrong just now? Was I too trusting of Fred?
A heavy fur draped over my shoulders, nearly causing me to spill my tea. Fred dropped to the ground beside me with
his own, took the tea from my hands to set aside, and then yanked my upper body into his lap.
“Sleep,” he commanded as he stroked my hair out of my face.
Tears returned with a fierceness—and he wiped them away.
He wiped every single one of them away.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
been no paralysis, and the hemorrhages were probably not the
immediate cause of death.

Durand-Fardel gives a table of supposed causes in 21 cases of

persons over fifty: 8 of these were connected with either habitual use
of liquor or a debauch; 9 had an attack immediately after a meal.

After naming all these causes, it must be said that in many cases it is
impossible to find any reason for the occurrence of the hemorrhage
at the particular moment it comes. A person may go to bed in
apparent health, and be found some hours afterward unconscious
and comatose, or unable to stir hand or foot on one side, or to
speak. Gendrin, as quoted by Aitken, states that of 176 cases, 97
were attacked during sleep. The attack may come on when the
patient is making no special muscular effort and under no special
excitement. It is simply the gradual progress of the lesion, which has
reached its limit.

SYMPTOMATOLOGY.—If we take as a point of departure the fully-

developed attack, such as most frequently is found with a large and
rapid hemorrhage into the cerebral hemispheres, pons, or
cerebellum, the symptoms are those usually spoken of as an
apoplectic attack, shock, or stroke, or, as the Germans say,
Hemorrhagische Insult. Trousseau quotes as a satisfactory definition
the words of Boerhaave: “Apoplexia dicitur adesse, quando repente
actio quinque sensuum externorum, tum internorum, omnesque
motus voluntarii abolentur, superstite pulsu plerumque forti, et
respiratione difficili, magna, stertente, una cum imagine profundi
perpetuique somni.”

Loss of consciousness, abolition of voluntary motion and sensation,

and usually stertor, the appearance of the patient being that of one in
deep sleep, are found in the extreme cases. In others the loss of
consciousness and sensation are not complete; the patient can be
aroused enough to utter a grunt or raise a hand to his face in order
to brush away a fly or the hand of the physician who is trying to raise
his eyelids, or can make a grimace to show that he is hurt, the face
returning to its indifferent expression as soon as the cause of
irritation is removed. Although the grade of action, both sensitive and
motor, seems to be a little above the purely reflex, it is but very
slightly so, and probably is not sufficient to remain an instant in the
memory.

The rapidity with which this condition comes on varies widely, from a
very few minutes, or even seconds, to some hours. It may even
diminish for a time and return. The cases in which unconsciousness
is most rapidly produced are apt to be meningeal and ventricular,
and presumably depend upon the rupture of vessels of considerable
size, although the location among the deeper ganglia, where the
conductors of a large number of nervous impulses are gathered into
a small space, will, of course, make the presence of a smaller clot
more widely felt. Even in these, however, the onset is not absolutely
instantaneous, and the very sudden attack is rather among the
exceptions. Trousseau denies having seen, during fifteen years of
hospital and consulting practice, a single case in which a patient was
suddenly attacked as if knocked down with a hammer, and that since
he had been giving lectures at the Hotel Dieu he had seen but two
men and one woman in whom cerebral hemorrhage presented itself
from the beginning with apoplectiform phenomena. In each of these
the hemorrhage had taken place largely into the ventricles.

Lidell gives the following case: A colored woman, aged forty-nine,

was engaged in rinsing clothes, and while in a stooping posture
suddenly fell down upon her left side as if she had been struck down
by a powerful blow. She was picked up insensible, and died in ten or
fifteen minutes. The hemorrhage was chiefly meningeal, and
especially abundant about her pons and medulla oblongata. The
fourth ventricle was full of blood, and there were clots in the lateral
ventricles.

A woman, aged about forty, had been hanging out clothes in an

August sun. She was observed to run out of the house screaming,
and fell to the ground unconscious. This was at 1 P.M., and she died
at 3.30 P.M. Her temperature just after death was 107.2°. The
neighborhood of the posterior surface of the pons Varolii was
occupied by a broken-down-looking mass, appearing like an
aggregation of small apoplexies (hemorrhages), involving and
breaking down the middle crura of the cerebellum. There was no
fatty degeneration nor any miliary aneurism. (I do not know upon
how thorough an examination this last statement rests.)

In a large number of cases it is difficult to say, in the absence of any

observation, intelligent or otherwise, exactly how rapid the onset of
the symptoms may have been, but in those which occur where the
patient is watched or is in the company of observant persons it is
almost invariable to meet with symptoms less than unconsciousness
which denote the actual beginning of the hemorrhage. From the
nature of the lesion it can rarely give rise to symptoms which justify
the epithet of fulminating in the sense of struck with a thunderbolt.
The unconsciousness, so far as can be known, does not depend on
the injury of any one special small point of the brain in which
consciousness resides, but upon the compression of a considerable
portion, which must necessarily take place gradually, but with a
rapidity proportioned to the size of the current which issues from the
ruptured vessel and the ease with which pressure can diffuse itself
over a large area. It is undoubtedly the greater facility offered to such
diffusion by the communication of the hemorrhage with the so-called
cavity of the arachnoid and the ventricles which gives to these forms
a peculiar severity. The difference between a hemorrhage spreading
through all the ventricles or over a large surface of the brain, and
one which is limited to a focus in the substance of one hemisphere,
being restrained by more or less firm tissue, may be illustrated by the
gain in power in the hydraulic press from the transfer of the stream of
water from a small cylinder to a larger one.

Vomiting is a symptom of some importance in diagnosis, being not

very common in cerebral hemorrhage, but very frequent in
cerebellar.

Whether of sudden, rapid, or slow development, the apoplectic

attack is, in its main features, described in the aphorism of
Boerhaave given above. The muscular relaxation of the face imparts
to it an expressionless, mask-like character; the limbs lie motionless
by the side, unless they can be excited to some slight movement by
some painful irritation or are agitated by convulsions, or in a
condition of rigid spasm; the face may be pale or flushed; the cheeks
flap nervelessly—le malade fume la pipe.

Swallowing, in the deepest coma, is not attempted. The fluid poured

into the mouth remains, and distributes itself according to the laws of
gravity without exciting reflex movements of the pharynx. When the
depression is less profound, it may excite coughing or be swallowed.
An attempt to swallow when the spoon touches the lips indicates a
considerably higher degree of nervous activity. Respiration may be
slow, but when the case is to terminate fatally rises with the pulse
and temperature. It is often stertorous and difficult, the obstruction
consisting partly in the gravitation backward of the soft palate and
tongue, and partly in the accumulation of fluids in the pharynx.
Hence stertor is in some cases only an accidental phenomenon,
depending upon the position of the patient on the back, and can be
relieved by turning him on his side and wiping out the mouth as far
back as can be reached. Cheyne-Stokes respiration occurs in severe
cases, though not confined to necessarily fatal ones.

The general temperature in cerebral hemorrhage has been studied

enough to make it of considerable value, especially in prognosis. In a
case which extends over a sufficiently long time several stages can
be distinguished which in shorter ones may be wanting. An initial
period of depression is described by Bourneville17 as occurring
immediately after an attack, in which the temperature falls a degree
or two below the normal, and, according to his view, continues
depressed if death takes place rapidly. He gives the case of a man
who died very shortly after an attack (his second one), where the
temperature, taken in the rectum at the moment of death, was 35.8°.
In cases which survive longer this initial fall passes either into a
stage where it oscillates within the neighborhood of the normal or
immediately begins to rise; the latter occurrence indicates an
impending fatal termination (unless, of course, something else can
be found to account for it). In the former condition we find patients
whose life may be indefinitely prolonged for days or weeks, when, if
a fatal termination is to result, the thermometer again indicates a
rise.
17 Études cliniques et thermométriques sur les Maladies du Système nerveux, 1872.

The initial fall of temperature is not so likely to be observed except in

institutions like the Salpêtrière, where large numbers of old persons
are collected and under close medical surveillance; and, indeed, it
may be doubted, even from Bourneville's own table, whether the rule
is one without exceptions. At any rate, the rise is a more important
phenomenon than the fall. When the rise of temperature is
interrupted by a fall, and then continues again, it is due, according to
the author already quoted, to a renewal of the hemorrhage.

These changes of temperature may be noted with various locations

of the lesion, but it seems probable that further study might make
them useful in diagnosis as well as prognosis. Hale White reports the
case of a boy aged six and a half years, who was found unconscious
with right hemiplegia, and who afterward had many and various
paralyses with hyperpyrexia, the highest temperature being 107°. He
lived long enough for secondary degeneration to extend down the
crura and into the anterior cornua. A small soft patch a quarter of an
inch in diameter existed at the anterior part of each corpus
striatum.18
18 Guy's Hosp. Rep., 1882.
 FIG. 37.

The chart W. H. (Fig. 37) is from a man aged fifty who fell in the
street while returning from work at noon, and whose axillary
temperature was taken at 5 P.M. and every two hours thereafter until
death. The hemiplegia was not very marked, but the hemorrhage
was extensive, involving the pons and left crus cerebri, the external
capsule, left crus cerebelli, and medulla, bursting through into the
fourth ventricle.

FIG. 38.
The chart M. M. (Fig. 38), as taken from Bourneville, represents the
course of the temperature in a rapid case: each perpendicular line
denotes an hour.

The difference in the temperature of the two sides has been

variously stated, and probably depends on a number of factors
besides the length of time that has elapsed since the first attack.
There is probably, however, a tendency to excess of heat on the
paralyzed side soon after the attack, owing to vaso-motor paralysis;
and this difference will be more marked in the hands than in the
axillæ. After a length of time which may be from days to months the
temperature becomes equalized, or more frequently the relation is
reversed, the paralyzed side being colder as atrophy takes place.
Lepine19 gives a case where the axillary temperatures of the two
sides continued the same within a small fraction of a degree for three
days, and then separated very slowly, until at death the paralyzed
side was six-tenths of a degree (Cent.) hotter than the other, in both
being inferior to the rectal (107° Cent.).20
19 Mémoires de Société de Biol., 1867.

20 The chart in the original, and as reproduced by Bourneville, is wrongly lettered. The
text says that the left side was the hotter.

FIG. 39.

The chart C. M. (Fig. 39) shows the excess of temperature in a case

of meningeal hemorrhage. The dotted line is from the paralyzed side.
The first observation was made two and a half hours after the attack.
A very interesting case is reported by Johnson21 of crossed
hemiplegia, where the temperature was about a degree higher on
the paralyzed side of the body, and, corresponding to this, the
sphygmograph showed a great diminution of tension; the lesion is
supposed to have been a hemorrhage in the pons. Johnson, in
commenting on the statement of Lorain that in all cases of
hemiplegia the pulse is more full on the paralyzed side, says that it is
incorrect for ordinary cases of hemorrhage into the corpus striatum,
though true in his own case.
21 Brit. Med. Journ., Jan. 6, 1877.

The most marked differences of temperature have been observed

where the lesion has been in the neighborhood of the pons, crus
cerebri, or medulla oblongata. In a case reported by Allbutt there
was a difference of 1.6°; the radial pulse was softer and fuller on the
paralyzed side, and the cheek upon that side was flushed.22 The
pulmonary hemorrhages which have been noticed by Brown-
Séquard and others in animals after cerebral lesions, and the
extravasation, congestion, subpleural ecchymoses noted by Ollivier23
in cerebral apoplexy, are probably to be referred to vaso-motor
disturbances.
22 Med. Times and Gaz., Dec. 4, 1869.

23 Archives générales, 1873, 167.

Much more attention has been paid to the pulse than to the
temperature, but it is less easy to lay down definite rules in regard to
it. It may vary in either direction. When the case is approaching a
fatal termination the pulse is apt to accompany the temperature in a
general way in its rise, though not necessarily following exactly, as is
seen in the chart in Fig. 38.

The throbbing or bounding of the arteries often described may

indicate increased activity of heart, but means at the same time
vaso-motor relaxation. The urine and feces are often passed
involuntarily.
In some rare cases symptoms closely resembling those produced in
animals by section of the sympathetic have been seen. These are
false ptosis, narrowing of the palpebral opening and sinking of the
globe of the eye into the orbit, diminution in the size of the pupil,
higher temperature on the paralyzed side of the face and the
corresponding ear, abnormal secretion of the eye, nose, and mouth
on the same side.24 They are supposed to indicate a paralysis of the
sympathetic.
24 Nothnagel, quoted by Grasset.

The condition of general relaxation may be so profound as to cover

up everything else, but in many cases true paralytic symptoms may
be discovered or provoked, which even at an early period give us
information as to the locality and nature of the lesion.

A greater degree of muscular relaxation may be manifest on one

side of the face than the other; the forehead may be a little smoother
on one side, the corner of the mouth drooping, the downward line
from the ala of the nose flattened, and the cheek flapping. There
may be a little greater resistance to passive motion of the limbs on
one side; one hand on being raised may drop helplessly back to the
bed, while the other is laid slowly down; the right hand when pinched
lies motionless and without power to escape the pain until the left
comes to its assistance. Irregularity of the pupils, if present, is an
important sign, but its absence signifies nothing.

One of the most significant signs is the conjugate deviation of the

eyes, both eyes and the head being turned strongly to one side or
the other. When the lesion is above the pons and is irritative, as in
the early stage of hemorrhage, the deviation is toward the side of the
body affected and away from the lesion; when paralysis is
established, away from the paralysis and toward the lesion. Below
the pons the rule is reversed. The spastic stage of conjugate
deviation may coincide with stiffness (early rigidity) of the paralyzed
limbs. This deviation must not be mistaken for an accidental position
of the head. The patient should be addressed from the side away
from which he is looking. Sometimes the eyes can be brought to the
median line, and not beyond. An attempt to turn the head forcibly
beyond the median line occasionally causes pain. The value of this
symptom in diagnosis has been denied, but a part at least of the
apparent contradictions have arisen from the neglect to notice
whether it were of a paralytic or spastic character.

As the condition of unconsciousness gradually passes off, the face

regaining, at least in part, its natural and more intelligent expression,
the eyes trying to follow the movements of surrounding persons, an
attempt being made, perhaps only by an unintelligible sound or by a
nod, to answer questions, the tongue being protruded, or at least an
attempt toward it made, and some motions being made with the
limbs,—the exact extent and intensity of the paralysis become more
apparent. Conjugate deviation, if it have existed, may disappear
before the other symptoms, or, if it has been of the rigid form
depending on an irritative lesion, it may become paralytic, and is
then in the opposite direction. The patient is then usually found to be
in a condition of hemiplegia, and at this point the history of
hemorrhagic apoplexy becomes identical with that of paralysis from
hemorrhage where no truly apoplectic condition has been present.

Lidell states that in more than one-third of all cases of cerebral

hemorrhage hemiplegia is developed without loss of consciousness
or coma. In some, the paralysis precedes unconsciousness, which
then slowly supervenes.

Hemiplegia (ἥμι, half, πληγη blow) is a paralysis or paresis of a part

of the voluntary muscles of one side of the body, and a few, in some
cases, on the other, and is undoubtedly to be referred to a lesion
interrupting the nervous communication between the cortical centres
of motion and the nuclei of the motor nerves, cerebral and spinal; the
conductors passing through the corpora striata, the internal capsule,
the peduncles, and crossing in great part to the other side above or
at the lower border of the medulla oblongata, and passing down the
crossed pyramidal tracts of the cord, to be finally connected with the
anterior gray columns of the cord. The portion which does not
decussate passes down the inner border of the anterior columns
under the name of columns of Türck. The amount of decussation
which takes place varies somewhat, and the suggestion has been
made, in order to explain certain cases of paralysis occurring on the
same side with the lesion, that possibly in some rare cases there
may be no decussation. It has never been shown, however, that this
condition, highly exceptional if even it ever occurs, is present in such
cases.

It may be said in a general way, although exceptions to the rule can

be found, that it is those muscles trained to separate, specialized, or
non-associated movements which are chiefly affected, while those
which are habitually associated in function with those of the other
side are less or not at all so. It would not, however, be in the least
correct to say that specialized or educated movements of any set of
muscles are alone paralyzed, since the fingers, which are trained to
the most independent movements, are often just as incapable of
making the slightest movement of simple flexion as of writing or
sewing.

We have in ordinary hemiplegia more or less paralysis of the upper

facial, the patient not being able to close his eye or to wink quite so
well as on the paralyzed side. The forehead may be smoother on the
paralyzed side. This condition is usually slight and of short duration,
but varies in different cases. Paralysis of the lower facial angle of the
mouth and cheek is usually better marked, but not absolute. The
corner of the mouth droops, perhaps permits the saliva to escape;
the naso-labial fold is less deep, and the glabella deviated away from
the paralyzed side. The cheek flaps with respiration. The difference
between this facial paralysis connected with hemiplegia and that
dependent upon a lesion of the trunk or distribution of the nerve
(Bell's), as in caries of the temporal bone or the so-called rheumatic
paralysis, is very striking, the latter being so much more complete,
and, by affecting the orbicularis palpebrarum so as to prevent
closure of the eye, giving a very peculiar expression to the
countenance. This distinction between the two portions of the facial
seems to make an exception to the rule stated above, since in most
persons the movements of the corner of the mouth and of the cheek
are quite as closely bilaterally associated as those of the eyelids.

Paralyses of the third, fourth, and sixth pairs upon one side of the
body are comparatively rare in hemiplegia, and when present are
usually referable to localized lesions in the pons. They are to be
looked upon as something superadded to the ordinary hemiplegia.
These nerves, however, are affected in the peculiar way already
spoken of as conjugate deviation, which phenomenon would seem to
denote that muscles accomplishing combined movements in either
lateral direction of both eyes, rather than all the muscles of each, are
innervated from opposite sides—i.e. that the right rectus externus
and the left rectus internus are innervated from the left motor
centres, and vice versâ. Exactly the same remark will apply to the
muscles of the neck which cause the rotation of the head seen
together with the deviation of the eyes. The muscles controlling
deviation to one side, although situated upon both sides of the
median line, are apparently innervated from the side of the brain
toward which the head is turned in paralysis.

The tongue is usually protruded with its point toward the paralyzed
side; and this is simply for the reason that it is pushed out instead of
pulled, and the stronger muscle thrusts the tongue away from it. The
motor portion of the fifth is, according to Broadbent, affected to a
certain extent, the bite upon the paralyzed side being less strong.

The hand and the foot are the parts most frequently and most
completely affected, but one or the other may be partially or wholly
spared, though the latter is rare. The muscles of the limbs nearer the
trunk may be less affected, so that the patient may make shoulder or
pelvis movements when asked to move hand or foot. In severe
cases even the scapular movements may be paralyzed. The
muscles of the trunk are but slightly affected, though Broadbent
states that a difference in the abdominal muscles on the two sides
may be perceived as the patient rises from a chair. The respiratory
movements are alike on the two sides. A woman in the hospital
service of the writer had a quite complete left hemiplegia at about the
seventh month of pregnancy. There was some return of motion at
the time of her confinement. None of the attendants could perceive
any difference in the action of the abdominal muscles of the two
sides, although, of course, the usual bracing of the hand and foot
upon the left side was wanting. The pains were, however, generally
inefficient, and she was delivered by turning. Muscular weakness
often exists, and in some cases the non-paralyzed side shows a
diminution of power.

The sphincters of the bladder and rectum frequently, and in severe

cases almost invariably, lose their activity for a time. It is possible,
however, that in some cases of alleged inability to retain urine and
feces the defect is really mental, and akin to the dirty habits of the
demented. The involuntary muscles probably take no part in
hemiplegia, with the very important exception of the muscular coats
of the arteries, which apparently share to a certain extent, and
sometimes the iris.

Speech may be attempted, and the words be correct, so far as they

can be understood, though the patient is apt to confine his remarks
to the shortest possible answering of questions. It is, however, thick
and indistinct, since the muscles of the tongue and lips are but
imperfectly under the control of the will. This condition may be
connected with paralysis of either side, and is to be sharply
distinguished from aphasia or mental inability to select the proper
word or to determine the necessary movements for its pronunciation.
Aphasia is almost invariably connected with paralysis of the right
side, and will be minutely spoken of hereafter. There is, of course,
nothing to prevent the coexistence of the two conditions, but aphasia
cannot well be shown to exist until we have reason to suppose, first,
that the patient has ideas to express, and secondly, that the
paralysis of the muscles of the lips and tongue has more or less
completely disappeared. The patient may indistinctly mumble a word
which, however, can be understood to be appropriate to the occasion
(defective articulation, glosso-labial paralysis), or, on the other hand,
pronounce with distinctness an entire wrong word or a number of
sounds without meaning (aphasia).
Sensibility—that is, ordinary cutaneous sensation—and, so far as we
can judge, the special senses, are not greatly affected after the deep
coma has passed off, but exceptions to this rule will be noted later.

Having described this most typical but not most common form of
cerebral hemorrhage—that is, the form in which both lesion and
symptoms are most distinct and can be most clearly connected—we
have a point of departure for conditions less clearly marked and less
easily explained.

It is probable that cerebral hemorrhage is much less likely than

cerebral embolism to take place without any disturbance of
consciousness or abnormal sensations; but there can also be little
doubt that a certain amount of paralysis is often accompanied by no
other symptoms, and post-mortem appearances often show the
remains of small hemorrhages which have passed unnoticed or are
lightly estimated. It is highly probable that small hemorrhages may
give rise to symptoms which pass for only a little accidental vertigo
or a slight feeling of faintness, until a later and more serious attack
gives a more definite explanation.

On the other hand, we have a set of cases in which all the symptoms
of cerebral hemorrhage may be present without the lesion. Many of
these are of course due to embolism, which will be considered later;
but besides this condition, recognized as softening for many years,
we find described under the head of simple, congestive, serous, and
nervous apoplexy cases where sudden or rapid loss of
consciousness occurs with general muscular relaxation, which, when
fatal, show nothing beyond changes in the circulation—i.e. in the
amount of blood in the cerebral vessels or of serum in the meshes of
the pia or at the base of the brain.

Besides these, there are cases of temporary unconsciousness with

complete recovery—the coup de sang of the French, or rush of blood
to the head, which are attributed to congestion of the brain—a theory
difficult to prove or disprove, but not in itself unreasonable.
Trousseau, without denying the possibility, or even probability, of
such a condition, says that which has been called apoplectiform
cerebral congestion is in the greater number of cases an epileptic or
eclamptic accident, sometimes a syncope. Simple epileptic
vertigoes, vertigoes connected with a bad condition of the stomach
or diseases of the ear, are wrongly considered as congestions of the
brain. He speaks of various conditions, such as violent attacks of
whooping cough, the expulsive efforts of women in labor, the
congested faces of laborers under heavy burdens, to show that
cerebral congestion does not give rise to an apoplectiform attack;
and it is undoubtedly true that, as a rule, no long-continued attack is
the result; but it must be within the personal experience of almost
every one that decided cerebral disturbance is produced for a few
moments by such efforts, as, for instance, blowing a fire with the
head down. Besides this, a laborer under a heavy load is
presumably healthy and accustomed to his work, so that his arteries
may be supposed capable of maintaining a due balance between
arterial and venous blood in the brain; and, again, although the
ordinary efforts of women in labor do not cause unconsciousness,
puerperal convulsions, involving a longer period of violent muscular
action, may do so, and even give rise to hemiplegia.

Whatever name we may adopt for the temporary cases which

recover, there are others, and fatal ones, which are not explained by
any change in nomenclature. Epilepsy may, it is true, occur under
such circumstances that no convulsion is observed, but, on the other
hand, convulsions may accompany not only an attack of
unconsciousness, but actual cerebral hemorrhage.

Cases of sudden death with no discoverable lesion furnish abundant

opportunity and temptation for conjecture, and it is well known that
too much dependence must not be placed upon the post-mortem
appearances as to the amount of blood in the brain before death,
and probably just as little upon the amount of serum, except as
indicating a condition of atrophy.

Syncope, either from over-stimulation of the pneumogastric or from

simple failure of the heart, may be put forward to explain some cases
of sudden death, but seems to have no advantage as a universal
theory over the older one, which meets with so little favor. Lidell
gives no less than seventeen cases which he classifies as
congestive or serous apoplexy. They are not all equally conclusive,
and were almost all of alcoholics. In some of these there were
absolutely no appearances which could account for death. The two
most characteristic of congestive apoplexy were, first, a young
negress who experienced a violent fit of passion, became
unconscious, with stertorous breathing, and died, having had some
tonic spasms. The brain contained a large amount of blood in the
vessels, but no effusion. Second, a semi-intoxicated woman, aged
thirty, became very angry, fell insensible, and expired almost
immediately. The brain contained an excess of blood, with no
effusion. In both these cases the patients were subject to fits under
the influence of strong excitement, but in both the author took pains
to inquire into and negative the probability of epilepsy of the ordinary
kind; and a change of name does not go far toward clearing up the
pathology.

Lidell's case (XXII.) was that of a man accustomed to alcohol, thin

and pale, who had an apoplectic fit with coma and hemiplegia. He
regained consciousness on the second day, and the hemiplegia
disappeared in a fortnight. This rapid and complete recovery,
exceptional to be sure, cannot be regarded as proof of the absence
of hemorrhage or embolism. In fact, the latter is highly probable. It is
possible that the clot may have been partially dislodged, so as to
allow some blood to pass by it, or that an exceptionally favorable
anastomosis allowed a better collateral circulation than usual to be
established.

The following case occurred in the service of the writer: An elderly

negress, who had extensive anasarca and signs of enfeebled action
of the heart without any valvular lesion being detected, after washing
her face was heard to groan, and found speechless and unable to
swallow, with complete right hemiplegia. There was a slight
improvement in a few hours, but she died two days later. The
autopsy disclosed some hypertrophy and dilatation of the heart
without valvular lesion. A careful search failed to discover any
change in the brain or obstruction in its vessels, although there was
chronic endarteritis.

The relations between epilepsy, apoplexy, and syncope are

interesting and important, but are certainly far from clear. Little is
gained by shifting obscure cases from one category to the other. If
sudden deaths be synonymous with apoplexy, we shall certainly
have to admit that apoplexy does not always demand for its cause
cerebral changes sufficiently marked to be recognizable after death.
If, on the other hand, we refer them to heart disease, we shall have
to admit that a heart without valvular disease or extensive changes
in its muscular substance may cease to beat under influences as yet
not well understood.

Since the paralysis arising from hemorrhage resembles so closely in

its progress that dependent upon occlusion of the cerebral vessels, a
further description will be deferred until the latter lesion has been
described; but this remark does not apply to the premonitory and
initiative symptoms, which may be of great importance, and which
are not always the same with the two or three sets of lesions. There
are many of them, but, unfortunately, no one among them taken
alone can be considered of high significance, unless we except what
are sometimes called premonitory attacks, which are in all probability
frequently genuine hemorrhages of so slight extent that they produce
no unconsciousness, and but slight paralysis easily overlooked. A
little indistinctness of speech or a forgetfulness of words, a droop of
one angle of the mouth, or heaviness in the movement of a foot or
hand, lasting but a few moments, may be real but slight attacks,
which may be followed either by a much more severe one, by others
of the same kind, or by nothing at all for a long time. They are
sufficient to awaken apprehension, and to show in what direction
danger lies, but they give little information as to the time of any future
attack.

Retinal hemorrhage is admitted by all modern authors to be

connected with disease of the vascular system, and hence also with
renal inflammation and cerebral lesions. The writer is greatly
indebted to Hasket Derby for the following facts: Out of 21 patients
who had retinal hemorrhage, and of whose subsequent career he
had information, 9 had some sort of apoplectic or paralytic attack; 1
had had such an attack before she was examined; 3 died of heart
disease, 1 suddenly, the cause being variously assigned to heart
disease or apoplexy; and 6 were alive when heard from, one of
these, a man of forty-eight, being alive and well fourteen years after.

Bull25 describes four cases of his own where retinal hemorrhage was
followed by cerebral hemorrhage, demonstrated or supposed in
three, while in the fourth other symptoms rendered a similar
termination by no means improbable. He quotes others of a similar
character. The total number of cases which were kept under
observation for some years is, unfortunately, not given. In a case
under the observation of the writer a female patient, aged fifty-seven,
who had irregularity of the pulse with some cardiac hypertrophy, was
found to have a retinal hemorrhage two and a half years before an
attack of hemiplegia. The hemorrhage was not accompanied by the
white spots which often accompany retinitis albuminuria.
25 Am. Journ. Med. Sci., July, 1879.

In a case reported by Amidon26 retinal and cerebral hemorrhages

seem to have been nearly simultaneous a few hours before death.
There was diffuse neuro-retinitis and old hemorrhages besides the
recent one.
26 N. Y. Med. Rec., 1878, xiv. 13.

The highly interesting observation has been made by Lionville27 that

when miliary aneurisms are present in the brain, they may often be
found in the retina also. In one case where they were very numerous
in the cerebrum, cerebellum, pons, and meninges, aneurismal
dilatations were found also in the pericardium, mesentery, cervical
region, and carotids (the latter not being more minutely described).
There was very general atheroma and numerous points of arteritis.
The retinal aneurisms varied in size from those requiring a power of
ten or twenty diameters to be examined up to the size of a pin's head
or a millet-seed. He thinks they might have been recognized by the
ophthalmoscope.
27 Comptes Rendus de l'Acad. des Sci., 1870.

The hemorrhages accompanying idiopathic anæmia and other

diseases with a similar tendency are not to be taken into this
account. Hemorrhage accompanying optic neuritis is likely to be due
to some disease of the brain other than the one under consideration.

Mental disturbances of various kinds have been considered as

significant, and Forbes Winslow gives a great many instances of
different forms, but they are to be looked upon rather as indicating
chronic cerebral changes which may result in various conditions, of
which hemorrhage may be one, than as furnishing any definite
indication of what is to be expected. Loss of memory should be
regarded in this way. Some acute or temporary conditions of
depression may affect the nutrition of the brain in such a way, without
having anything to do with hemorrhage actual or anticipated.

Aberrations of the special senses are often observed, such as noises

in the ears more or less definite, the sight of colors (red), or being
unable to see more than a portion of an object. The fact to which
these testify is probably a localized disturbance of the circulation
which may not precede rupture of the vessels.

Distinct hallucinations of hearing, followed by those of smell and

succeeding irritability, sleeplessness, were observed by Savage28 in
a case which terminated soon after in apoplexy.
28 Journ. Ment. Sci., 1883, xxix. 90.

There are few symptoms which are more likely to excite alarm and
apprehension of a stroke of paralysis than vertigo or attacks of
dizziness, but it is too common under a great variety of
circumstances to have much value, and is, as a matter of fact, rarely
a distant precursor of intracranial hemorrhage, although it frequently
appears among the almost initiatory symptoms, especially when the