Page 69 of Sawyer

Sawyer

Iknocked on Casey’s apartment door again, frustration beginning to bubble up inside me. Still no answer.

I checked my watch for what felt like the hundredth time. He should have been home by now.

Maybe a last-minute customer had kept him at the shop longer than expected.

Pulling out my phone, I tried Casey’s number again, but it went straight to voicemail.

A bad feeling started gnawing at me, something deep and unsettling.

Something was wrong. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I needed to act, and fast.

With a curse, I shoved my phone into my pocket and turned, heading for the stairs.

Just as I started descending, a sharp, searing pain flared in my shoulder, nearly making me lose my balance.

It was sudden and intense, like my joint had been yanked out of its socket.

I gripped the railing, sucking in a breath, trying to push through the sensation. But this wasn’t my pain—this was Casey’s.

The bond between us pulsed with fear, panic—Casey was in trouble.

I took the stairs two at a time, every cell in my body now wired with urgency.

As soon as I hit the sidewalk, I broke into a sprint toward Casey’s shop, my heart hammering in my chest.

I reached for the mate mark, focusing on the connection, trying to untangle the knot of his emotions.

Fear, overwhelming fear. And something darker: Garth.

The thought hit me like a freight train, making my blood boil. Garth had been hovering on the edge of hostility ever since that race.

Now he was making his move, and he had chosen Casey as his target.

I reached Casey’s shop in record time, my lungs burning from the effort. The storefront was dark, no customers in sight.

Panic clawed at my chest. Casey would never leave his shop unattended.

My eyes scanned the space frantically, and then I heard it—Benny barking from somewhere in the back.

Relief flooded me, knowing at least someone was there, but his barking was frantic, desperate. Something was wrong.

“Benny! Where are you, boy?” I called out as I dashed past the front counter, toward the back of the store.

Benny’s barking grew louder, more urgent, and was followed by a low, menacing growl.

“Shut up, mutt!” a voice snarled from the back, sending a wave of dread through me. Garth.

I wasn’t too late.

Without hesitation, I bolted toward the pet cleaning area, my vision tunneling as adrenaline surged through my veins.

Benny met me halfway, his tail between his legs, his body trembling with fear.

He whimpered as he reached my side, nudging at my leg.

“Stay here, buddy,” I whispered, crouching down to meet his eyes.