Chapter 54 Chapter 54
I'm going back to America tomorrow," Caroline announced, setting down her wine glass with a decisive clink.
They were curled up on opposite ends of the couch, the Vancouver skyline glittering beyond the windows. Zarlia had been lost in thought, one hand unconsciously resting on her stomach, but Caroline's words pulled her back to the present.
"What? Why?"
"Family stuff," Caroline said, trying for casual but not quite hitting the mark. "My stepmom. I need to... sort some things out."
Zarlia studied her friend's face—the tension around her eyes, the tightness in her jaw. In all their time together, through all the support Caroline had given her, Zarlia suddenly realized how little she actually knew about what Caroline was dealing with. They'd become best friends over shared misery in a bar, but somehow Caroline's problems had always taken a backseat to Zarlia's supernatural drama.
"I'm a terrible friend," Zarlia said softly.
Caroline looked surprised. "What? No, you're not—"
"I am," Zarlia insisted, sitting up straighter. "You've been dealing with your family, with whatever's been making your stepmom call you constantly, and I've been so wrapped up in my own mess that I never even asked. Not really. Tell me. What's going on?"
Caroline was quiet for a long moment, swirling the wine in her glass. Then she sighed, her shoulders dropping.
"Remember how I told you I slept with my stepsister's fiancé?"
"Yeah, but you didn't know he was engaged—"
"Right. Except now he's obsessed with me. Like, full-on manic obsession." Caroline's laugh was bitter. "He refuses to marry my stepsister. Cancelled the wedding, called the whole thing off. Says he's in love with me, that one night changed everything for him. It's honestly terrifying."
"Jesus, Caroline."
"It gets better," Caroline continued, her tone darkening. "He was supposed to be this huge partnership for my family's company. Some tech merger worth millions. And now my stepmom is furious because I 'ruined everything' by being irresistible or whatever." She rolled her eyes. "She wants me to marry him instead. For the company. For the family legacy. For the money."
Zarlia's eyes widened. "She wants you to marry some guy who's obsessed with you just for a business deal?"
"That's the Martinez way," Caroline said with a twisted smile. At least that has been the way ever since her dad died 6 years ago
"Everything's a transaction. Love, marriage, family—it's all just currency to be traded. I told her no, obviously. I'm not marrying some stalker psycho just because he's rich and my stepsister couldn't keep him interested."
"What did she do?"
"Disowned me," Caroline said simply. "Cut me off from the family business, removed me from the company board, revoked my trust fund access. The whole dramatic production. Told me I was selfish and ungrateful and a disgrace to the Martinez name."
"Oh my God, Caroline, I had no idea—"
"It's fine," Caroline waved her hand dismissively. "I don't need their money. The art gallery I opened three years ago has been doing really well. Turns out I actually have a good eye for talent, and rich people love spending obscene amounts on paintings they don't understand. I've been supporting myself just fine."
Zarlia felt a surge of admiration for her friend, but also guilt. All this time, Caroline had been dealing with family betrayal and financial manipulation, and Zarlia had been too consumed by her own problems to notice.
"Why are you going back now?" Zarlia asked quietly.
Caroline's expression shifted, something vulnerable flickering across her face before she masked it. "My mom called. My real mom, not my stepmom, didn’t think I’d ever hear from her again. She said..." Caroline swallowed hard. "She said my stepmom is threatening to kill herself if I don't come back and marry him. That I'm destroying the family, ruining everyone's lives with my selfishness. Mom was crying, begging me to just... fix it."
"That's manipulation," Zarlia said firmly. "You know that, right? That's textbook emotional manipulation."
"I know." Caroline's voice was small. "But what if she actually does it? What if I don't go, and something happens, and it's my fault?"
"It wouldn't be your fault. Caroline, you can't let them—"
"I just need to go back and settle things," Caroline interrupted, her voice stronger now. "Face to face. Make them understand that I'm not coming back, I'm not marrying anyone, and they need to stop with the guilt trips and threats. Once I do that, once everything is clear, I can come back here. It'll just be a few days."
"A few days?" Zarlia repeated.
"Maybe a week, tops. I promise I'll be back soon."
Zarlia wanted to argue, wanted to tell Caroline she didn't have to go, that she should just cut off her toxic family completely. But she understood the pull of family, the desperate need to try one more time to make them understand, even when you knew they never would.
"Take as long as you need," Zarlia said finally. "Don't rush back because of me. Handle your family situation properly. I'll be fine here."
"Are you sure? With the..." Caroline gestured vaguely toward Zarlia's stomach. "Everything?"
"I'm sure," Zarlia lied, forcing a smile. "I've got plenty of food, the apartment is safe, and I'll call you if anything happens. You go deal with your family. I'll be here when you get back."
Caroline pulled her into a tight hug. "Thank you. For understanding. For being... you."
"Thank you for everything," Zarlia whispered back. "For giving me a place to hide. For not judging me. For being the best friend I could ask for."
The next morning, Caroline was gone, her suitcase rolling behind her as she headed to the airport. The apartment felt immediately larger and emptier without her presence. Zarlia stood by the window, watching the city wake up, one hand pressed to her stomach where she could feel the faint flutter of movement.
"It's just us now," she murmured to the life growing inside her. "We'll be okay."
She tried to believe it.
Luke left the office well past midnight, his mind heavy with numbers and negotiations and the thousand small crises that came with running a company while your CEO was too drunk to function. The building was empty, the streets quiet as he walked to his car parked in the underground garage.
The drive home should have been straightforward. Should have been routine.
But then he saw her.
At first, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him—it was late, he was tired, and the figure walking along the sidewalk was partially obscured by shadows. But as he got closer, passing under a streetlight, there was no mistaking that silhouette.
Caroline.
Luke's hands tightened on the steering wheel. She was supposed to be in Vancouver. That's what his monitoring had told him—she'd been in that apartment with Zarlia for weeks, hadn't left except for brief trips to her gallery or grocery runs.
So what the hell was she doing in New York?
Almost without thinking, he pulled over to the side of the road, parking in a darkened spot between streetlights. He got out of his car quietly, wolf instincts taking over as he began to follow.
Caroline walked with purpose despite the late hour, her heels clicking against the pavement. She had changed from earlier—gone was the casual comfort of home clothes, replaced by a sleek black dress and leather jacket that somehow made her look both elegant and dangerous.
Luke kept his distance, moving silently in the shadows. He told himself he was just curious, just making sure everything was normal, just doing his job of keeping tabs on Zarlia's friend.
He definitely wasn't following her because seeing her again did something to his pulse that he refused to examine.
Then he noticed the second figure.
A man, staying about twenty feet behind Caroline, matching her pace. Luke's senses sharpened immediately. The way the man moved—hunched, furtive, his hand in his jacket pocket—screamed threat.
Caroline turned down a side street, and the man followed. Luke's jaw clenched as he sped up, his footsteps still silent despite his increased pace.
The side street led to an alley, and Luke watched as the man made his move. He rushed forward, cornering Caroline against the brick wall, one hand pulling a knife from his pocket.
"Wallet and phone," the man demanded, his voice rough. "Now."
Luke was already moving forward, ready to intervene, when Caroline's response stopped him in his tracks.
She smiled.
Not a scared smile, not a nervous smile—a sharp, dangerous smile that promised pain.
"Sure," she said sweetly. "Let me just reach into my purse—"
The moment the man leaned in slightly, relaxing his guard, Caroline struck. Her fist drove into his gut with enough force to double him over, followed immediately by an uppercut that snapped his head back with a sickening crack.
The knife clattered to the ground as the man stumbled backward, hands clutching his face.
"You crazy bitch!" he gasped, before turning and running, his footsteps echoing in the narrow space as he fled.
Caroline straightened her jacket, completely calm, as if she hadn't just taken down a would-be mugger without breaking a sweat.
That's when she turned and saw Luke standing at the alley entrance.
For a moment, they just stared at each other. Then Caroline's lips curved into that same dangerous smile.
"Well, well," she said, walking toward him with leisurely confidence. "You caught me."
Luke said nothing, just watched her approach with that carefully neutral expression he'd perfected over years of hiding what he actually thought and felt.
"Are you stalking me again? Did you miss me?" Caroline asked, stopping a few feet away from him. "Because I have to say, that's getting a little predictable."
Still, Luke remained silent. He studied her in the dim light filtering in from the street—the way her blonde hair caught the moonlight, the slight flush in her cheeks from the adrenaline of the fight, the dangerous confidence radiating from every inch of her small frame.
The moon was nearly full, and he could feel it pulling at him, making his eyes reflect the light in ways that were distinctly inhuman. Caroline's gaze caught on that glow, and something flickered across her face—interest, maybe, or recognition of something not quite normal.
"I never got your name," she said finally, breaking the silence. "From the last time we met. The café, remember? When you were sitting there looking all broody and mysterious, watching my friend?"
"Luke," he said, his voice low.
"Luke," Caroline repeated, testing the name. She took another step closer, tilting her head to look up at him. "So, Luke. Did you follow me all the way here? Because if so, I'm flattered. It takes real dedication to stalk someone across state lines."
She was close enough now that he could smell her perfume—something dark and spicy that made him think of bad decisions and dangerous games.
"Of course you did," Caroline continued, her smile widening. "I'm too attractive to be forgotten. One conversation at a café, and here you are, tracking me down like—"
"You're arrogant," Luke cut her off, his tone flat.
"I prefer confident," Caroline corrected, unbothered by the criticism. "There's a difference."
"Not from where I'm standing."
"Then maybe you should stand closer," she suggested, and there was no mistaking the invitation in her voice now.
Luke's expression didn't change, but something shifted in the air between them—charged, dangerous, electric.
"I don't do younger guys," Caroline said, though she made no move to step back. "So whatever fantasy you've built up in your head about me, you should probably forget it. Find someone your own age to obsess over."
"I'm not obsessing over you," Luke said, and it was almost true.
"Sure," Caroline said, clearly not believing him. "And I'm sure you just happened to be in this exact neighbourhood at two in the morning. Total coincidence."
Luke's jaw tightened slightly—the only sign that she was getting under his skin.
"You know," Caroline continued, moving even closer, "I know how stalkers work. And I should warn you—if you try anything, I'll beat you up just like I did with that guy. I take self-defence very seriously."
"You're being cocky," Luke observed.
"I'm being realistic. Did you see what I did to him? One punch and he ran like—"
She reached out as if to push Luke's chest, probably planning some flirtatious gesture that she thought would rattle him.
His hand shot out, catching her wrist before she could make contact. The movement was fast—faster than a normal human could move—and his grip was firm without being painful.
Caroline's eyes widened slightly, but not with fear. With interest.
“Careful. If you know how stalkers are then you should be more cautious of me. Afraid even of what I might just do to you”, his voice was low, holding a threat.
She tried to kick him then, probably on instinct, her knee coming up toward his ribs.
But Luke was faster. He caught her leg, his hand wrapping around her thigh and pulling it up to his waist, effectively trapping her between him and the alley wall behind her.
Suddenly they were very, very close.
"It's late," Luke said, his voice dropping to something almost like a growl. "You should go home instead of looking for trouble."
Caroline's breath had quickened, her chest rising and falling rapidly. This close, Luke could see the gold flecks in her brown eyes, could feel the heat radiating from her skin.
"Plus," he added, his tone deliberately cold, "you're not that attractive."
He released her abruptly, stepping back and putting distance between them before she could respond. Then he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing in the alley.
"Hey!" Caroline called after him, but he didn't stop.
He could feel her watching him as he left, could practically hear the wheels turning in her head as she tried to figure him out. Good. Let her wonder. Let her be confused.
It was safer for both of them if she stayed confused.
Because the truth—that he'd been following her for weeks, that he found her fascinating despite knowing he shouldn't, that holding her against that wall had taken every ounce of his control not to do something incredibly stupid—was too dangerous to admit.
Even to himself.
Luke climbed back into his car and drove away, leaving Caroline standing in the alley, probably furious and definitely intrigued.
Which was exactly the problem.
He was supposed to be watching her to protect Stetson, to keep tabs on Zarlia's location.
He wasn't supposed to be thinking about the way Caroline had looked at him in the moonlight, or how perfectly her leg had fit against his waist, or the challenge in her eyes that made him want to show her exactly how dangerous he could be.
Focus, he told himself firmly. She's a means to an end. Nothing more.
But as he drove through the empty New York streets, Luke couldn't quite shake the feeling that Caroline Martinez was going to be a problem.
Just a very different kind of problem than he'd anticipated.