Hiding in Plain Sight

Rogue POV

My muscles screamed in protest with every step I took down the quiet suburban sidewalk. It took me four agonizing days to put enough distance between myself and my old territory. The Alpha King’s trackers were relentless. He had personally hunted me for twelve grueling hours through the dense woods before calling off the immediate search. In the days that followed, smaller packs of hunters tried to pick up my trail, but I evaded them all.

When the familiar sight of my street came into view, a heavy sigh left my lungs. The modest four-bedroom house sat quietly at the end of the block. I slid my key into the lock, the mechanical click sounding like a lifeline, and pushed the door open.

"I'm home," I called out, my voice raspy.

My roommate, Marcella, poked her head out from the kitchen, a bright smile on her face. "Welcome back! How was the conference?"

I forced my shoulders to drop, faking a relaxed posture. "Uh, yeah, it was good. The usual vet updates and lectures."

I hated lying to them. But the humans I lived with were completely oblivious to the supernatural world. They didn’t know werewolves existed, let alone that they shared a roof with a rogue. There was no way I could ever tell them where I had actually been or the terror I had just escaped.

Before I could kick off my boots, Roxana came bounding down the stairs. "Well, now that you’re finally back, you need to get dressed up. We’re going out to a wine bar tonight."

I let out a dramatic groan. "No. Why?"

Roxana rolled her eyes. "Because I want to meet someone and have a little fun. And Marcella is still on her endless quest for Mr. Husband Material."

I let out a dry laugh. "And what about Sylvia?"

"You know Sylvia. The only men she cares about are the fictional ones in her smut books. But she still gets out more than you do."

An hour later, I was the first one ready, waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Roxana descended next in a dangerously short, tight red dress and staggered five-inch heels.

She took one look at my outfit and scoffed. "Why do you always dress like a bodyguard? Honestly, how are you ever going to attract a man dressing like that?"

I crossed my arms. "A, who says I’m looking for a man? And B, if I don't dress practically, who is going to protect you from the predators who might actually try to eat you looking like that?"

Roxana's face lit up. She giggled, striking a pose. "I know, I look awesome, right? I just need a guy looking for a good time."

We glanced up as Sylvia and Marcella made their grand entrance.

"Well, hello commoners," Sylvia called out in a playful, mocking tone. "Will you be escorting the ladies tonight on our little outing?"

Roxana snapped back with a grin. "You’re just jealous I’m this hot and you’re not. Now hurry up, we have a reserved booth."

I watched them laugh, a bitter ache settling in my chest. I wished I could just be normal like them.

We stepped into the dimly lit wine bar. The air was thick with the scent of aged grapes and expensive perfume. The moment we crossed the threshold, my deeply ingrained survival instincts took over. I couldn't just walk into a crowded room and relax. I scanned the perimeter, meticulously noting every exit and every potential threat hiding in plain sight. I flared my nostrils, discreetly drawing in a deep breath to sift through the myriad of scents, checking for the distinct, earthy musk of other wolves.

Nothing. Just humans.

Even knowing the room was clear, my pulse refused to settle. I shifted my weight, finding a dark comfort in the cold steel of the hidden blades strapped tightly against my skin under my clothes. They were my only real reassurance as we wove through the crowd toward our plush corner booth.

I slid into the leather seat, but my mind was miles away. I was trapped in my own head. Every time I blinked, I saw those piercing, unnatural golden eyes staring at me from the shadows of the forest. I felt the raw, suffocating power rolling off him. And then came that single, blood-chilling word, replaying on a relentless loop in my brain.

Mate.

A shiver wrecked through my spine. Even surrounded by oblivious humans, I couldn't shake the creeping sensation of being watched.

"So, what about you, girl? What’s new in your life?"

I jolted, blinking as I pulled myself back to reality. Roxana was leaning across the table, smiling expectantly at me.

I forced a casual smile, grabbing a water glass. "You know me. I never have anything interesting going on. I treat people’s sick pets at the clinic, try to make them better, and then I come home. I can tell you about this new surgical technique I’ve been researching. That, and I’m planning my usual monthly camping trip for next week."

Roxana groaned loudly, throwing her head back. "You desperately need to get a hobby."

I chuckled at her sheer exasperation. "Hiking and camping are hobbies, Rox."

"You do the exact same hike and go to the exact same woods every single month," she argued. "How about going somewhere new and exciting for once? Somewhere with a beach, strong cocktails, and shirtless cabana boys?"

I shrugged, leaning back against the leather cushion. "What can I say? I’m a creature of habit."

The mundane chatter washed over me, a temporary balm to my frayed nerves. But the peace shattered instantly when Marcella gasped. She leaned over, frantically tapping my arm under the table.

"Don't look now," she whispered loudly, her eyes wide, "but there is a guy at the bar totally checking you out."

I rolled my eyes. "Please. I’m sitting right next to Roxy in her red siren dress. The guy’s eyes are probably just wonky from drinking too much wine."

Before Marcella could argue, a waitress approached our booth. She set down an incredibly expensive, dust-covered bottle of wine in the center of the table with a polite, customer-service smile.

"Ladies," the waitress announced, gesturing over her shoulder, "this is from the gentleman at the bar."

Roxana instantly perked up. She looked past the waitress and shamelessly blew a kiss toward the counter.

Curiosity getting the better of me, I finally glanced over.

The man pushed off the brass rail of the bar and slowly started walking toward our table. He moved with a predatory grace that made my stomach drop into my shoes. He was wearing an expensive, perfectly tailored three-piece suit, but the fine fabric couldn't hide the highly muscular, dangerous physique rolling beneath it.

As he closed the distance, the dim overhead lighting caught his face.

My breath hitched.

He had striking, emerald green eyes. And they weren't looking at Roxana.

Those sharp green eyes were locked exclusively on me, tracking my every move with terrifying precision. The air around him practically hummed with suppressed, lethal energy.

A cold, paralyzing realization slammed into my chest, freezing the blood in my veins.

Shit.

A hunter from the Alpha King’s pack had finally tracked me down.