(Jaime)
In my head I call him the crazy doctor, even though thereâs been no sign of any more random werewolf talk in any of our communications over these past few weeks. In fact, heâs been very helpful and sweet.
My contract is signed, and my starting date confirmed for two weeks from today. Itâs been a month since I left Claw Ridge, and lots have happened since.
I officially retired from modelling two weeks ago but was talked into one last shoot for the sports magazineâs swimsuit edition. They offered me an eyewatering amount to do it, and I figured that I could do lots of good with that money, so I agreed.
I spent last week in the Maldives with four other girls and a whole truckload of staff, working our butts off, in nothing but bikinis, from sunrise to sunset. For a change, I enjoyed the interactions after work. I could have a cocktail and bar peanuts and the creamy prawns. I didnât have to train for at least 4 hours a day. Most importantly, I felt free of any study worries.
When I came back from the shoot, I started packing all my personal belongings and had most of it shipped off to Claw Ridge. The crazy doctor had organized long-term accommodation for me within walking distance of the hospital, which suited me just fine.
Iâm going to rent my apartment out, fully furnished, to a young new model I met on the Maldives shoot. Sabina is an 18-year-old up-and-coming model from Eastern Europe, looking to move to New York for her career advancement.
Iâve bought Mrs. Amesâ apartment and am letting her stay there, rent-free, for as long as she wants to or needs to. In return, sheâll be cooking those model meals for Sabina the same as she did for me over the years.
Iâm catching up with my med school friends tonight, eager to tell them about the crazy doctor and that strange interview. Iâm sure theyâll have a good laugh at that. And tomorrow Iâm off on a ten-day holiday to a yoga retreat in Bali. I canât wait for all that serenity, and for my new life to start in Claw Ridge.
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I absolutely love my new accommodation here in Claw Ridge. Itâs a two-bedroom cottage right on the edge of town, literally next to the hospital. I have a small back garden that backs up to the tree line of the forest, and my cottage is one of six identical ones, all occupied by hospital personnel, that are grouped together on a big open yard, .
The main street is about a 10-minute walk slightly uphill, and to walk the entire length of the main street takes another 20 minutes.
Iâve been here for exactly one day, during which Iâve mostly packed out the boxes containing the personal belongings I shipped here, and did a mountain of laundry that had built up from my holiday. I did manage to walk that street though, and time it all. And I worked in some more yoga and Pilates to stretch after sitting in an airplane for a looooong time.
I start work three days from now, which will give me time to explore the town and surrounds a bit, go shop for some household essentials and stock my fridge with food. I guess Iâll need to learn how to cook now too!
Iâm really looking forward to that. And to start working. And to meet my colleagues and hopefully make some friends. Tonight though, Iâm heading for the diner we went to that day we came for our interviews.
The days are slightly warmer than it was just over a month ago, but spring is still a bit chilly this high up the mountains. I can hear the roar of the river that is likely flowing even faster now with all the spring melt off and I sling a light jacket over my arm before I close my front door. Iâll bet it will be dark by the time Iâm done with dinner, and with that the temperatures will have dropped.
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Emilyâs diner is fairly quiet. Apparently, it gets quite busy over weekends, but not so much midweek. The waitress hasnât really become any friendlier, even though I get a sense that she recognized me. I ignore it. Iâm used to being alone and being stared at, and women are always the worst.
Despite her apparent hostility I feel oddly at home here. Not just the diner but the town. And if I really want to reflect on it some more, I know that itâs this feeling that made me say yes to the job even though the interviewer asked odd questions and the barman told me Iâm not welcome and every waitress in this place scrunch their noses up at me â or bare their teeth!
Iâve been alone since birth, really. Here and there Iâve formed superficial friendships with foster siblings or fellow models, or my med school friends, but I have never felt a real bond with anyone. I struggle to make genuine connections.
If I must psycho-analyze myself, Iâd say that I have trust issues. And Iâve become so independent that I almost feel uncomfortable with any attempts others make to either offer me assistance or connect with me socially.
This, of course, has given me this reputation of aloofness. Some even called me a cold-hearted bitch. And Iâve been called frigid and unfriendly and all kinds of other hurtful things over time too â some by people I knew, some by the media.
Hopefully, this can all change here. I have a feeling that it just might. Thereâs something about this place that calls to my soul, and surely that should resonate in the connections I make with these people too.
Feeling slightly better at that thought, I order their pumpkin soup and thoroughly enjoy every scoop of the creamy goodness and bite of the freshly baked, chunky bread they serve with it.
I leave the diner not long after Iâve finished eating and yes, the sun has set by now and there were stars twinkling in the clear sky above. Itâs not as cool as I thought it would be, so I simply drape the jacket over my shoulders without putting my arms through the sleeves and sling my purse over my shoulder.
Itâs a leisurely stroll of just over 10 minutes back to my place, and I take my time to listen to the roar of the river - more prominent now at night - and the sounds of laughter and conversation coming from the pub just across the street. I could hear frogs and some other night animal sounds, and a truck slowly coming down the main road.
I hear the truck stop not far behind me, and guys bantering as they get out and slam the doors. It doesnât bother me, and I keep walking, my mind on the new work adventure lying ahead of me from tomorrow.
Then I feel a hand clamp over my mouth from behind, followed by the sharp prick of a needle in my neck. I go limp, and everything goes dark before I could even begin to think of struggling.
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(Logan)
I turn into the driveway of the pack house, looking forward to releasing some tension with a run before I turn in for the night. The meeting with the Stateâs tourism board was long and boring and thankfully wonât need to happen again before next year.
I probably need to set up another date with Dana too. Heck, setting up a date should be something one looks forward too, not feel like a chore. I sigh.
Alpha! Youâre urgently needed at the Southwestern border sir!
The mind-link from Tim, my head of security, sounds urgent.
Whatâs up Tim?
Alpha, thereâs a body here. At least it looks like sheâs dead.
My skin prickles with foreboding and alarm as I immediately change direction and pull to the side of the driveway. I start stripping as I open the door. Looks like that run will come sooner than anticipated.
Iâm on my way. A more exact location, please?
River side, just before Houndstooth Falls, sir.
I shift mid-leap and make a beeline to the spot Tim described, asking him to check if the person is still breathing or not. And to take photos of the crime scene.
A dead tourist on my pack lands is a disaster waiting to happen. If itâs a wolf it makes things easier: they wouldnât have to involve the human authorities. But tourists are a whole new ballgame.
I arrive within five minutes and shift back to my human form as I approach the three guards with Tim. Suddenly, Iâm hit with the most heavenly scent and my wolf starts doing cartwheels in my head.
Confused, I approach them just as Tim steps back and reveals the naked body of a young woman that had clearly been pulled from the water. Sheâs lying face down, her one arm at an awkward angle.
I start shivering even before Tim tells me that sheâs alive, but just barely, and I sink to my knees next to her and gently brushes a lock of her wet hair away from her badly bruised face. My fingers tingle where I touch her cold skin.
I almost hyperventilate as the realization sinks in. Sheâs wolf, sheâs my mate, and sheâs in a seriously bad condition.