Page 35 of Paws & Order
She's uncharacteristically quiet on the walk back, bundled in her blazer, arms crossed loosely.
I want to say something comforting, but I don't kid myself.
She doesn't need comforting.
She needs facts.
And a sense that someone else is in the trenches with her.
"Are you okay?" I finally ask, falling into step.
The air is fog-heavy, the streetlights fuzzy in the gloom.
She bumps my shoulder just enough to break the tension.
"You're doing the thing again. The wolf thing. Protective and broody."
I let her words sit.
The truth is, I haven't slept properly since the first incident.
"It's my job."
She laughs, short and bright.
"It's not your job to babysit my dating life, even if it's gone paranormal."
For a second, her lips curve in a way that makes my pulse thrum.
"But thank you. I mean it."
I don't know what to say to that, so I walk her home and do another sweep of the building, superstitiously counting the windows.
The whole place feels different now.
Charged.
Like a snowstorm about to break.
Or a heart that knows it's about to be broken.
That feeling doesn't go away when we get upstairs.
If anything, it's worse.
Liza's apartment is bright with morning light but cold as stone.
The plate is where I left it, untouched except for a note tucked beneath the edge.
She picks up the note and reads it aloud.
"Please accept this trifling token and remember me—always yours, in absence and longing."
"No signature?" I ask.
She flips the paper over.
"Nope. But look. It's the same paper stock as the last two. Expensive. Heavy."
