Page 49 of Property of Crypt Keeper

“I truly don’t know. I was operating under the assumption you were a werewolf. When I found out you were other, I told myself Rafael must’ve had a reason for adding you to the list.” That part, at least, was true.

“He gave me your name directly,” I continued. “Not through my usual channels.”

His jaw tightened.

“He wanted us to more than cross paths,” I deduced.

“Yes. So it would seem.”

The realization settled heavily between us. I watched the moment Gideon understood it. His eyes darkened—not with anger at me. At the situation. At the fact that none of this was random.

The swamp.

The hunt.

Zara.

The experiments.

Somewhere in all of it, threads were being pulled by hands neither of us could yet see. I didn’t like that one bit. I stepped closer to the bars slowly.

“You don’t look at me like you think I’m the enemy anymore,” I observed as my gaze swept over his face, taking in every nuance of his expression.

His wolf surged, and I felt it immediately. That possessive heat rolled through the shack hard enough to steal the air from my lungs for a second.

And with that, there it was something else—that strange pull between us.

Wrong, yet not. Dangerous. But oh, so real.

His jaw tightened, and his nostrils flared like he felt it too.

“You need to let me out,” I insisted.

Immediately, his expression hardened. “Katalina?—”

“You do not understand what kind of people this could be connected to,” I snapped. “If Rafael is involved, then you are already in deeper than you realize.” Rafael had been my mentor, but I’d always been aware that he operated on his own agenda. My need to decimate werewolves was merely convenient for him, and he used it to his advantage.

“I don’t trust you.”

“Fair,” I shot back. “But I know this world better than you do.”

His eyes flashed. Golden flecks glittered briefly in their depths.

“I doubt that,” he scoffed.

Purposefully, I leaned closer, fingers wrapping around the bars despite the wards burning against my flesh.

“No,” I murmured, never breaking eye contact. “You really don’t.”

The air between us tightened. His wolf wanted closer.

My—whatever twisted demon thing that lived inside me—wanted the same. That was the terrifying part. Not attraction. Need. Raw and instinctive. The feeling that he was the missing pieces of me.

“You need me,” I insisted softly.

The muscle on the left side of his jaw jumped. He hated that. Too bad.

“Maybe,” he finally admitted.