CHAPTER 1: HIDING IN PLAIN SIGHT
The lunch rush was ending when Rowan felt it—a sharp twist of pain in her chest that made her gasp and grip the counter.
Not now. Please not now.
She forced herself to breathe through it, to smile at the customer waiting for his check, to act like her entire ribcage wasn't being crushed by invisible hands. The bond-ache had been getting worse lately, the incomplete mate bond a constant torment that no amount of distance could ease.
"You okay, Rae?" Mira appeared at her elbow, dark eyes concerned."You look pale."
"Fine." Rowan managed to keep her voice steady."Just tired."
Mira's gaze dropped to Rowan's midsection, to the loose apron that hid the swell of her stomach. Five months along and she was running out of ways to disguise it. Another few weeks and everyone would know.
Another few weeks and she'd have to run again.
"You should sit down. Take your break." Mira took the check from her hand."I've got this table."
Rowan didn't argue. She made her way to the back room, past the kitchen where Rita was prepping for dinner service, and collapsed onto the ancient sofa that smelled like grease and coffee. Her hand went automatically to her stomach, feeling the firm swell beneath her shirt.
Five months. She'd been hiding for six months total, and the baby was five months along. Math that still made her chest ache with something that wasn't just the bond.
She'd discovered the pregnancy two weeks after running. Had been in a gas station bathroom in Nevada, throwing up breakfast, when the truth hit her like a freight train. Pregnant. With his baby. With the baby of a male she'd watched tear another male's throat out with his bare hands.
The memory tried to surface and Rowan shoved it down hard. She'd gotten good at that over the past six months. Gotten good at not thinking about that night, about the blood, about the way Thane had looked at her afterward—wild and dangerous and nothing like the male she'd fallen in love with.
Gotten good at pretending she wasn't terrified he'd find her.
The back door opened and Rowan's heart lurched. But it was just Rita, wiping her hands on her apron, expression sympathetic.
"Go home, honey. You look dead on your feet."
"I'm fine—"
"You're five months pregnant and working doubles. Go home. Rest." Rita's voice was firm but kind."I'll dock you an hour. Consider it a gift."
Rowan wanted to argue—needed the money desperately—but exhaustion won out."Thank you."
She grabbed her coat and slipped out the back exit into the alley. Pinewood, Idaho was exactly the kind of place she'd been looking for when she ran—small enough that strangers were noticed, but transient enough that seasonal workers came and went without raising questions. She'd told Rita she was running from an abusive ex. Not entirely a lie.
The walk to her studio apartment took ten minutes. Rowan kept her head down, hood up, avoiding eye contact. The bond-ache pulsed with every step, worse today than it had been in weeks.
He's getting closer, her wolf whispered. Mate is hunting.
No. He doesn't know where I am. He can't know.
But the bond didn't lie. Somewhere, Thane Kross was getting closer. And when he found her—
Rowan's hand went to her stomach again, protective and desperate. When he found her, she didn't know what she'd do. Didn't know if she'd run or fight or collapse into the mate bond that screamed at her constantly to go to him.
Didn't know if she was more afraid of him finding her or of him never finding her at all.
Her apartment was on the second floor of a building that had seen better decades. Rowan climbed the stairs carefully, unlocked three separate locks, and stepped into the tiny space she'd been calling home for the past month.
It wasn't much. Kitchenette along one wall, bathroom barely big enough to turn around in, a mattress on the floor because she couldn't afford a bed frame. But it was hers. Safe. Hidden.
For now.
Rowan locked the door behind her, checked the window—still latched—and finally let herself relax. The bond-ache was a constant throb now, worse than this morning, worse than yesterday. She stripped off her work clothes and stood in front of the mirror in just her bra and underwear.
The swell of her stomach was undeniable. Small still, but definitely there. She ran her hands over it, feeling the firm curve. At five months she should be showing more—omegas usually carried smaller, their bodies adapted for it—but worry and stress had kept her thin everywhere else.
The baby moved. Just a flutter, barely perceptible, but it made Rowan's breath catch. Life. His life growing inside her.
She didn't know what she'd tell the ba
