Gaze (✔)

Chapter Twenty-Five: Haven

Montreal.

Clara gazed out of the window of their third-storey hotel room, watching the slow movement of people as they trekked through the snow which seemed to blanket everything around, except for the roads, which were cleared by the constant movement of cars. It was busier than she had expected – the storm hadn't stopped anyone from going about their lives it seemed. Each little jacket-covered figure stomped through the ice and brushed the snow off of their shoulders in a manner that told her it was a routine: something she missed. The chaos of her life in the past few months, although it had begun to calm down, was suffocating. She felt like she was constantly moving, physically or not, shifting between states of fear, anger, panic, and calm. She hardly ever felt safe – it was only in those few blissful moments that they stole, huddled under the covers to beat off the cold in dinky motels along the road or even just the way he slid his arms around her waist just now, leaning his chin against her hair gently and staring out the window, too.

"Good morning," he murmured.

She turned, let herself smile, and leaned into his embrace. This week had been calm.

They'd been in Montreal for nearly two weeks after leaving Stafford and Jebediah's wolves. They hadn't been pursued very far – she presumed they were anxious about leaving their territory, being such a small pack. They hadn't encountered any of Duncan's wolves either, although she knew deep in her heart that her mother would never stop chasing her until one of them was dead – as much as she wanted to rest, Clara didn't have the guts to leave him. Perhaps it was selfish, taking him with her, but she couldn't bear the thought of letting him go. It was funny how things changed after so little time had passed.

She looked up at him, staring into his eyes, running her hand over the chest she had almost stabbed her dagger into, remembering the way she had planned to make the light in his eyes go out...it was dreadful to think about now. She wanted to keep him safe – she would do anything. Kill anyone. She would be his hunter now, whether he needed her or not.

Today was the day they were leaving the hotel. Wyatt hated it there, hated the lack of space. She knew it was his instinct to be closer to nature, and the wolf inside of him was feeling claustrophobic. She didn't know how often werewolves needed to shift, but she was sure that he missed it, even if he wouldn't say so.

Here they were now, in Montreal, just as they'd planned that night. Wyatt had more than enough money from Maddox Industries and as promised, neither of them needed jobs. Life was supposed to be good. Only things weren't right anymore. He could sense it, no matter how many smiles she used to smooth over her stress. There was something inside of her clawing to be let free, but she didn't understand it – and she wasn't sure she wanted it. She had dreams about the fight in the woods with Jebediah's wolves – about her fingers, which hadn't been fingers when she'd ripped open the skin of a wolf. She tried not to dwell on the image that swirled around her brain, she tried to ignore it, but she wasn't stupid, either. But after nineteen years of displaying no werewolf traits, despite her parentage, she didn't think she'd ever turn into one.

There was still a chance she wouldn't – that was what she held onto. She healed more quickly than humans, and was faster, slightly stronger...all traits that she had her whole life and yet she had never fully shifted. Perhaps this was just another part of being a half-breed. She chastised herself mentally for the mild horror that she felt at the possibility of becoming one of them. She didn't hate them any more – not at all. But the idea of becoming something totally different, totally alien – something she had killed time and time again...it scared her.

* * *

She loved the house – it was large, but not too big, set on the outskirts of the city beside a forest that Wyatt said was unclaimed land, meaning of course there were no wolf packs there. She suspected he'd bought the land anyway. They hadn't bought much furniture: only the bedroom and the living room were fully outfitted, but the electricity worked and the heating was always on, so she didn't mind.