Chapter 11

  Moving in with Chris had seemed like the right call... about fifteen minutes ago. Now her head was full of other thoughts: she barely knew him, and this stupid pull between them... She wasn’t scared of Chris—she knew he’d never hurt her. But who’s to say she wouldn’t do something dumb?

  Trying to buy herself time, Gerda stepped out of her room where she’d been packing a bag for the move. He was dressed again, somehow that made him even harder to ignore. The t-shirt hugged his muscles, the way he carried himself—it all made everything feel more real.

  "Chris, I was thinking... I need a bit more time to get ready." "Okay. I’ll wait as long as you need. No pns today." "I mean like... maybe a whole day. I should pack properly, clean up a little. There’s something on the kitchen floor—" He raised a brow, arms folding over his chest, head tilting slightly. "Gerda, your pce is spotless," he said calmly, no pressure in his voice. "You stalling?" She dropped her gaze without answering.

  Chris sighed. "Look, I get it. Changing everything at once is scary. But the longer you put it off, the harder it gets to jump. And then I’ll be flying in again to pull you out of trouble." He looked at her, serious but not bming. "We agreed. You chose this."

  He paused, then gave her a small grin. Or do you think I’m luring you into some kind of harem? Trust me, yesterday would’ve been the perfect chance. While you were on fire, I could’ve scooped you up no problem and just vanished."

  Gerda’s face twisted into a mix of horror and disbelief. Chris ughed—not at her, just at her reaction. It was hirious. "You should’ve seen your face just now!"

  Gerda let out a breath, then ughed too. "Okay, fine," she said. "I’m overthinking. I’ll go finish packing."

  But even as she turned away, a flicker of frustration fred up inside her. Damn it—Chris was right. And she had nothing to counter with.

  Later, in the car on the way to Chris’s pce, they started talking. Chris told her where he’d been all this time—and about Ingra. He didn’t sugarcoat it. In the end, he’d been an ass: he left Gerda in her crisis with no way to reach him, and took off on vacation with Ingra, knowing full well the shift could hit any day. He just didn’t want to admit it.

  Listening, Gerda gently started asking about Ingra. Who was she? What kind of shifter? Did she have a pack, like Pete? How long had they known each other?

  Chris clearly needed to get it off his chest. He didn’t dodge the questions. He told her Ingra was a bobcat. Bobcats are loners by nature—they don’t form packs like wolves do. But they do have communities. Usually older ones live there, or those with kids. The rest live solo but show up for important events.

  At some point, Gerda offered: "Maybe you should call her? Just talk it out... no drama." Chris smiled a little, kind of sad. "Thanks. But right now that’s pointless. She blocked me. I’ll need to wait. Later, I’ll find her and talk. But she won’t hear me right now." He paused. "And this isn’t on you, Gerda. Don’t carry it."

  While they talked, the car had already left the highway. Chris had a big piece of nd out in the countryside and an old farmhouse with three bedrooms. No way they’d get in each other’s way. One of the rooms was his office. The guest room was untouched. "Welcome, Gerda. Make yourself at home," he said.

  "So this is where I’m supposed to feel safe now?" Gerda mumbled to herself.

  He hesitated, then added: "Oh, and—come on. There’s something I wanna show you."

  Out back, there was a brand-new pool. Just finished st week. "Enjoy," Chris said. "It’s gonna be a lifesaver when the heat hits." He said it casually, joking a little. Summer was in full swing.

  But Gerda suddenly remembered the way her body had burned from the inside, just days ago. A shiver ran through her—pain or memory, she couldn’t tell. Maybe both. Chris caught the shift in her, but didn’t say anything. He just touched her back lightly. "You okay?" She nodded.

  Then she went to her room and stayed there longer than she needed to, realizing it was just her and Chris in the house. And it felt weird as hell.

  Images kept fshing in her head—Chris in her kitchen, wearing her pink bathrobe. The way he covered things... or didn’t. Her mind fshed to his scars—on his chest, his hips... Suddenly, she needed to know. What pain had left those?

  She walked to the mirror, checking that she looked completely neutral. Hard to seduce anyone in sweatpants and a tired face. Perfect

  And still, she caught herself thinking about his scars. Curiosity beat out fear.

  She found Chris in the kitchen, marinating steaks. "You’re full of surprises today, Chris. That’s twice I’ve caught you in the kitchen. All you’re missing is the bathrobe," she said with a smirk, then bit her tongue.

  Chris turned to her with a cocky grin. "Well, if you brought it, I’ll wear it. Gotta make my guest feel welcome."

  That grin made it clear—he wasn’t against a little flirting.The only question was: how far are you really willing to take this, girl?

  Gerda blushed and quickly changed the subject: "Need help? I could chop a sad or something. Maybe prep a side?" Chris snorted: "We’re predators, Gerda. Sads? Let’s not pretend around each other."

  They stepped out back to the grill. Chris lit the fire and got to work on the steaks. There was something primal about it. Something ancient. The smell of sizzling meat filled the air, and finally Gerda felt her body rex.

  They were quiet for a while, just enjoying the heat and the smell. Then Gerda spoke first: "Chris... those scars I saw. I thought dual-natured heal fast." "We do," Chris nodded. "Most stuff leaves no trace. But some things still scar." "Like what?" Gerda asked, clearly curious. "Cws from certain types of Others. Bdes forged in the mountains of the Sixth Continent. And poisoned weapons—specially coated ones... there’s a lot."

  "Sixth Continent?" Gerda perked up, remembering something Mary had told her. "So those rumors about some secret community—aren’t just rumors?" Chris chuckled: "Rumors, sure. But it’s not a community. It’s a whole damn state. Two dominant species run everything there. And they’ve got a hand in a lot of global politics." "What species? Tell me more!" Chris ughed again, shaking his head a little: "Gerda, don’t rush it. I’ll expin in pieces, or your head might explode." Gerda scoffed: "Didn’t wanna know that bad anyway."

  The steaks were ready, and they sat down to eat. Dinner was easy. Light conversation, a few stories, a little ughter. Gerda slowly let herself unwind, her body heavy with fatigue. She said goodnight and headed to her room.

  Chris stayed outside, sitting silently in the garden, staring into the dark.

  Gerda fell asleep fast.But near dawn, she dreamed: mountains lost in fog, valleys under gray skies, clouds thick like lead.Eyes in the mist—hundreds of them. Silent. Watching. Studying her without mercy.

  She woke up shaking, her teeth chattering from the fear. A knot of cold anxiety wrapped around her chest and wouldn’t let go.