“You think I don’t know that?” I whisper bitterly, my throat dry. “But what if he’s pretending? What if this calm, steady version of him is just a trick? What if, the second I let my guard down and accept him, he shows his true colours and suddenly he becomes everything I feared?“..
My voice lowers to a whisper.
“He’s still a wolf, not a sheep. And I’ve heard the saying–‘a wolf in sheep’s clothing“.
Silence.
My wolf doesn’t respond this time. And that’s worse.
Because it means she agrees.
My stomach growls, loud and insistent, making me flinch.
“For moon’s sake,” I groan, dragging myself off the bed. “Can I not have one existential crisis without starving to death?”
I sigh and rise to my feet, my legs weak beneath me. I shuffle over to the wardrobe and pull it open, only to find it completely empty—no dresses, no makeup, no trace of a woman’s presence.
Curious, I open another. This one is full. But not with anything of mine.
Jack’s clothes. Neatly folded shirts, jackets, and worn–in jeans line the shelves, all smelling faintly of him. I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips. I grab one of his shirts–soft, oversized, and soaked in his scent—and pull it on. It hangs loosely on me, warm and comforting, like a quiet embrace.
1 head toward the kitchen, still barefoot. The house is silent. Too silent. Like it’s holding its breath, waiting–just like me.
I pad down the hall and turn a corner until I find the kitchen.
I push open the door. My heart sinks.
The shelves are empty. The fridge? Empty. No ingredients, no bread, no fruit, not even water bottles or damn crumbs.
It’s clean–too clean. Like no one has ever lived here.
Like he just moved in… for me..
The thought slips into my mind, and for a second, I smile again as I imagine Jack nervously setting up this place. No signs of another woman. No old photos. No leftover perfume or hair ties forgotten in the bathroom. No scent of any other woman. Could it be… I’m the first one he’s ever brought here?
By the Boling dement teat
Reality stars in the face the rould we pally deaned the place to to make it look like his feat musta vas never fare rasing the past, erasing her
So he really feh me here. tumble again, tugging open yet another empty cupboard like maybe, just maybe, a damn apple might magically appear and save me from my growing stomach with no food first even a damn apple
I drag & hand down my face, leaning heavily against the cold counter. My stomach growls louder this time, like it’s calling me stupid for trusting a man like Jack to care whether or not i starve to death 1 glare down at it. “You’re not helping”
A tited, bitter laugh escapes me but it dies just as fast.
The one man who kisses like sin, touches like he means it…” I shake my head, exhaling through my nose. “And forgets to leave food. For two damn
Everything about him is complicated–my head, my heart, my damn body. I don’t even know what I want anymore.
But the most frustrating part? I can’t stop thinking about him. I feel so ridiculous hoping he doesn’t accept my rejection.
I press my fingers to my temples. “Get a grip, Kali.”
But if this hunger doesn’t kill me first… the confusion just might.
I straighten up. I could sit here, starve, and cry about my feelings… ot I could do what I’ve always done survive. If Jack couldn’t feed me, r’d do it the old–fashioned way
If bounty hunting taught me anything, it’s how to live without comfort. I’ve done it before. I can do it again.
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