A / N

Many apologies for the delay, guys, I had a very busy couple of days! I know I promised a once-every-five-days update, but try not to pin your hopes on that. If you've been a long-time reader of mine, you'll know that while writing is a priority, Wattpad itself isn't. There's no pressure on my end  since I've several chapters in stock anyway, but don't literally wait for me to update. There are better and more important things to do with your time. You guys get what I'm saying, right? As much as I adore all of you readers, I don't want you guys to waste your precious time waiting for updates or losing sleep by staying up all night to read my work. It's hardly worth it.

Anyway, enjoy and happy reading!

x noelle

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0 3

d i e g o

IT TURNED OUT that living with a wolf wasn't the worst thing in the world.

Quite the opposite, in fact.

When Brooke stepped out of the shower with a ratty old bathrobe wrapped around her, she was more than surprised to see Argos and Diego exactly where she'd left them earlier – on the carpet in the living room. Argos had now climbed to his feet, tail wagging eagerly as he bounded around the wolf in a clear indication that he wanted to play. But Diego was simply staring down at her dog with an overall air of boredom, twisting his tail aside every time Argos tried to pounce on it.

Diego looked so unimpressed by her dog that Brooke couldn't stop the amused smile that broke across her face.

Leaving both canines in the living room, she headed into the kitchen to get her usual pot of coffee brewed. She was in the midst of setting the kettle on to boil when she heard a faint rustle behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, her eyes widened when she realised that Diego had limped into the kitchen after her. So had Argos, who'd clearly taken a liking to the wolf and was adamant on going wherever the other went.

"Hungry?" She smiled at Diego, who stared fixedly at her and made no attempt to leave. Stepping over to the fridge, she located a chunk of frozen meat and stuck it into a bowl of water to defrost. She'd been originally saving that for pasta later with her Dad, but better to feed the hungry animal than have the hungry animal eat you. "Of course you are. But this'll take awhile to defrost."

In between waiting for the chicken to defrost, Brooke poured a generous amount of kibble in Argos's food bowl, before starting on her own breakfast. By the time she was done, the chicken was defrosted and she gingerly set it down in a large bowl, watching with fixed fascination as Diego tore into it almost immediately.

"Argos – " she started warningly, lowering her coffee mug down onto the table when she saw her dog sneakily head over to Diego. It was never a good idea to sneak up on a wild animal when they were eating, much less attempt to steal their food – which was what her dog attempted to do next. " – don't do that! I raised you better than this. Don't – "

But her warning wasn't even necessary. Because the next moment, a sharp growl from Diego and a lazy but threatening snap of his jaw sent Argos fleeing back across the kitchen to take shelter between her legs.

She almost spat out her coffee in an effort to constrain her laughter. "See?" She shook her head with mirth as she gazed down at a whimpering Argos. "I told you not to do that. If you want raw meat, I'll stop by the grocer's to buy some later."

But that was far easier said than done.

As soon as she had finished her breakfast, Brooke chucked the empty plate and mug into the sink before heading to the coat rack. She pulled on her coat, ready to go on a quick run to the grocer's, when bristly fur brushed up against her.

She jumped and spun round. The wolf was right behind her, staring up at her with infinitely dark eyes. She smiled. "I won't be gone long," she told him, as she buttoned up her coat. Although why she felt the need to explain herself to the wolf was rather beyond her. "Just wait here with Argos."

She flipped the latches on the three locks and reached for the doorknob. The door was opened just a fraction of an inch when the wolf sidestepped her, sniffing at the sliver of space in between. He took a step forward and her eyes widened in alarm.

"Oh, no, you can't come with me," she said in alarm, when Diego began limping after her, even as she went to grab her coat off the rack. "You'll get shot if people see you wandering around town."

Diego simply stared fixedly up at her, while Argos, ever the enthusiastic follower that he was, was standing by the wolf's side, his tail wagging with great enthusiasm. Brooke took several steps towards the door and watched in dismay as Diego continued to follow her, still hobbling about on his bad leg.

"Don't follow me!" She shook her head, feeling equal parts amusement and exasperation. She supposed that she could just slip out and slam the door shut on the wolf.

But watching him limp after her tore at her heartstrings a little. He was determined to go wherever she went, even if it meant further aggravating his injury. Would he attempt to follow her for her shift at the Lighthouse later? She rather thought he would.

Damn it.

Huffing under her breath, Brooke ran a hand through her hair and tossed her coat back on the rack. In many ways, she was just as bad as her Dad. She had the audacity to chide him for giving his jacket to the wolf when she was literally blowing off work to stay home with said wolf.

"I won't go anywhere today," she told the wolf, looking down at him. "But you have to stay here with me and rest, okay?"

The wolf tilted his head and met her gaze. It was an odd gesture that made it seem like he understood what she was saying. Right, she was definitely en route to losing her mind if she thought she could get through to him.

Settling down on the couch, she waited for Argos to leap up beside her, curling up with his head half onto her lap the way he usually did. Diego followed at a slower pace because of the bad leg, and she watched in amusement when he climbed up onto the couch as well. His big body forced her and Argos all the way to one end of the couch and, after a moment's hesitation, placed a gentle hand on his back.

The still atmosphere settled around them like a warm blanket. Brooke shot a quick glance at the two canines – one on each side, and reached over to the dresser to pick up the phone. She dialed the number that connected her to the Lighthouse. After a few rings, the person on the other end picked up.

"Hello?"

"Kat?" She recognized the other waitress's voice right away. "Is my dad around?"

"Oh, hey, Brooke." The polite tone in Katrina's voice became warmer. "He is, but he's busy. I think he's still checking the inventory. Can I take a message?"

"Yes, please. Just tell him that I wouldn't be able to make my shift today. And to leave five pounds of meat in the freezer," she added, as an afterthought.

There was a startled pause on the other end of the line.

"Five pounds?" Katrina gave a nervous laugh. "What're you doing? Feeding a bear?"

Brooke's grip on the phone tightened as her gaze darted down to the creature in question.

No, just a wolf.

But Brooke held her tongue and cast a quick glance at Diego. His ears were pricked even though he kept entirely still beside her. "My Dad will understand," she returned vaguely instead, keeping the phone pressed against her ear, "thanks, Kat."

"No worries. And besides, it's probably a good thing that you cancelled your shift today. The cops dropped by again and Wayland's been asking for you."

"Wayland?" Brooke felt an uneasy twist in her gut, promptly magnified by the way Diego suddenly stiffened, his head lifting as his dark eyes fixed right on her. She shot him a smile and rubbed his neck comfortingly, even though her stomach was all in tight knots.

"Yes. I think they're stepping up patrols around town, so you'll want to be careful on future shifts. He seems very insistent."

"He is," Brooke said through gritted teeth, unable to keep the annoyance out of her voice. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Well, thank you for telling me."

"Not a problem. See you tomorrow, Brooke."

"You too, Kat."

The other girl rung off and Brooke sat there for awhile, with the phone still pressed against her cheek. The monotonous beeping on the other end echoed in her ear. It was endless and wearisome, matching her dismal mood perfectly.

Finally, she set the phone back down. Music sheets lay on the coffee table and she knew that it would be a good time to practice for her night shifts. She leaned over to pick them up, but the clefs and notes blurred as she stared unseeingly at the score.

"Are there no good men left?" Brooke muttered in annoyance, reaching over to pick up her music sheets from the coffee table.

The sigh that escaped her lips made Argos glance up and she leaned down to kiss the top of his head. To her surprise and amusement, she felt a pointed nudge from Diego beside her. His injured leg was placed gingerly on her lap, head tilted to the side as he looked curiously at her. Acting on her impulses, she planted a delicate kiss on the top of his head as well, and her lips quirked briefly up in a faint smile when he pressed the tip of his nose to her cheek.

"Good thing I have you boys," she mused, leaning back on the couch and setting the music sheets down on her lap as she prepared to study.

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"Diego – stop it."

Brooke sighed for what seemed like the twentieth time that evening and shot the sternest look she could muster down at the wolf, who simply stared back up at her in an almost insolent manner.

Earlier on, while watching her put on her makeup for her night show, Diego had been more than agitated, brushing up against her legs every so often, which made her slip up and have to reapply her mascara or lipstick again. And now he'd resorted to blocking her path when she tried to leave the house.

And Argos was not helping either.

With some kind of secret telepathic message that she clearly wasn't privy to, Diego seemed to have convinced Argos to prevent her from leaving the house too. Her dog had taken off with one of her stilettos and was now prancing around the living room with the heel of her stiletto wedged in his mouth.

Traitor.

As much as she didn't want to go for her shift, she simply had to. Cancelling her day shift as a waitress at the Lighthouse wasn't a big deal – her Dad owned that place. But at night, when people from neighbouring towns and the city would drive over to hear the famous Nightingale – she owned the Lighthouse.

Call her stubborn, but she wasn't going to stop her show just because a wolf was in her way.

Taking a deep, determined breath, she quickly sidestepped Diego and reached for her bag. Her coat still hung on the rack and she took that too, shrugging into it and buttoning it up firmly. But when she reached for the doorknob, Diego let out a distinct growl that made her spin round.

"I have to go now or I'll be late," she said patiently, before wondering for the millionth time why she bothered explaining things to an animal anyway. "And Argos, come here!"

Her sharp voice echoed through the living room and her dog swiftly came scampering up, looking almost chastised when she shot him a disapproving stare.

"Drop the shoe."

Argos hesitated. And looked at Diego, before looking back at her.

"Drop it!"

Reluctantly, Argos dropped the shoe, tail tucked between his tails in an apologetic manner as he retreated to Diego's side. Brooke gingerly slipped her feet into the heels before opening the door. When she saw Diego take a quick step forward, she immediately raised a hand to stop him.

"No, stay."

Diego faltered for a second or two. Then he took another step forward.

"I said stay."

He stilled in his tracks, head lowering but with his eyes still fixed on her. Before she could backtrack, Brooke forced herself to shut the door on both dog and wolf, twisting the key in the lock with a firm click. It wasn't until she was past the driveway of her cabin when she finally let out a disbelieving breath.

As impossible as that sounded – the wolf had actually listened to her.

Tugging the hood over her head, she shoved her hands in the pockets of her coat and headed down the path towards the Lighthouse. The trek there wasn't half bad – it wasn't in the dead quiet of the night yet, and there were still people passing her on the street. She stopped to return a few greetings along the way since it was a small place where pretty much everyone knew anyone, and by the time she got to the Lighthouse, she'd all but forgotten about the fact that she'd have a couple more sleazebags in her audience tonight.

Until she donned her mask, stepped out into the spotlight and saw said sleazebags grinning up at her.

Mood ruined, effective immediately.

Wayland McDowell was right there, front and centre of the diner-turned-bar, along with a couple of his friends who sat back in their chairs in such a confident way it seemed like they owned the whole damn town. They kind of did. Wayland was the town's sheriff, and both Benton and Leroy were also on the force. Roux worked in the city, and Ivor owned several franchises around that automatically made him the richest man in town.

She knew that her father would much rather place a bullet in any of their brains before they could make a move on her, but she couldn't afford to offend them. Not when she had nowhere else to go and the Wharf was the only place she could call home.

So Brooke took a deep breath and forced herself to smile in that signature, alluring way she knew everyone liked – blood red lips tilted up in a seductive curve, gazing out at her audience through heavy lashes like she harboured a secret she maybe was or wasn't going to tell.

She made it through the rest of the night with clammy hands and a racing heart.

And by the time she was done, she was so relieved to get off the stage that she didn't even notice Wayland get up from his seat. Just as she was about to enter the tiny hallway that led to the back exit, she felt a hand wrap unrelentingly around her arm to hold her in place.

She stiffened and tried very, very hard not to panic. Throwing a sideway glance at a smirking Wayland, she swallowed and murmured, "can I help you?"

"You did a good show tonight," he said smoothly. She'd recognised Wayland's type from the moment she met him – overconfidence that bordered on downright arrogance, the kind who thought he was God's gift to all women, never understood the meaning of the word no even when a cocktail was flung right in his face. "Really enjoyed watching you up on stage earlier."

I'm sure you did, Brooke wanted to say, feeling a surge of annoyance as she remembered the way he was looking at her. His heavy gaze often made her feel like she wasn't wearing a piece of clothing up on stage and he took undressing her with his eyes to a whole new level.

But she bit down on her tongue and simply nodded. "Thank you."

"Come join me and my boys for a round of drinks. It's on me."

"I'm a little busy tonight, Wayland, so I'm afraid not."

"Still playing hard to get, huh?"

His smirk widened and he took a step forward, closing in on her pressed up against the wall. It took everything in her to remain completely still, remembering that men like him loved when their women struggled. She could smell the whisky on his breath and the pressure of his fingers when he brought a hand up to rest on her hip.

He leaned down so that his mouth was close to her ear and whispered, "I do so love a challenge."

She forced herself to meet his predatory gaze as steadily as she could. "Then would it be such a challenge for you to get your hands off me?"

Perhaps it was the underlying warning in her voice; or the fact that somewhere deep, deep down, Wayland actually had a heart. Whatever the case was, he hesitated a second or two, before releasing his grip on her and falling back a step. His eyebrows were arched in a way that looked far too innocent, even though he was anything but.

Without wasting another moment, Brooke spun on her heels and strode off, disappearing past the corner and down the narrow hallway. Escaping into the little room where she'd left her things, she shut the door behind her and reached up to tug the mask off her face in relief.

Damn Wayland for ruining her night.

"Stupid prick," she muttered under her breath, taking several calming breaths and fighting off the urge to head upstairs and wake her Dad. He'd probably fallen asleep in front of the television again, but she had a good mind to tell him what had happened.

It would be fun, she thought to herself, entertaining the thought of her Dad bringing his rifle down to the Lighthouse to scare the hell out of Wayland and those friends of his.

But – no. Wayland was the town's sheriff and he'd probably throw her Dad in jail or something.

With a regrettable sigh, Brooke headed over to grab her bag and coat from the chair. She didn't notice at first, but a sudden glimpse of red toppled off her coat when she pulled it up, falling onto the floor by the leg of the chair. She stepped back to get a better look at it, and that was when she froze.

It was a red rose.

Red roses were supposed to be common, and in her job, she'd received plenty over time. But this rose was different. The petals were crimson red in a shade of fresh blood, prickly thorns twisting up the long, slender stem, where a pristine white note was attached to the very top.

Brooke cast a swift glance around, only to see no one in sight, and leaned down to pick up the rose with wide eyes and shaking hands. Gingerly holding the stem in one hand, she peeled open the note with the other, her heart hammering erratically in her chest.

In a familiar scrawl that made her gasp in horror and drop the rose altogether, ran the words:

I'm back.