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He acknowledged that, his hands tucking under his arms. “Yeah. She’s into art. I got her talking. It was a casual conversation while we worked. I made sure of that.”
Thatcher and Wells remained silent at this point in the conversation. They exchanged a glance before Wolf sighed.
“Of course, I’d be careful, D,” he started, but then his phone buzzed. With another sigh, he picked it up. I wondered who was texting him since we were all here. I guess it could have been his parents.
“Fuck,” he growled, getting up. “I need to go do something. It can’t wait. I…” His teeth lodged into his lip. “Just trust me, okay? I’m doing everything I can to figure this out for you. I swear to God.”
I knew he was. He was the first one to take the reins with all this, tell me not to worry, and I only did that because I trusted him.
“Wolf—”
He didn’t answer me, leaving the room. I put my hands together, and Wells and Thatcher shifted in their seats. They studied the other again, and I opened my hands.
“What?” I asked, and Wells shrugged.
“They’ve just been spending a lot of time together,” he said.
“Who?”
“Wolf. Sloane?” Wells returned. “And he wasn’t telling you the whole truth about that project.” Wells jutted his chin at Thatcher. “Tell him.”
Thatcher closed his laptop. “Bow saw Wolf and Sloane together at school. She thought it was weird because we told her to stay the fuck away from the girl. She asked me what was up with that, and since I didn’t know, I asked Wolf. That’s when Wells and I found out about his little CIA undercover mission.” He waved a hand between Wells and himself. “He didn’t even tell us about it.”
He didn’t have to technically. I mean, he probably should have, but he didn’t have to. Especially if he was trying to keep it quiet and suspicions low.
“I told him to watch her,” I said. “He’s just doing what I asked.”
“Yeah, well, he’s doing a real good job of it.” Thatcher leaned back. “He’s spending all kinds of time with her, and we know that because I had Wells watch him after Bow told us what kind of project it was.”
I didn’t understand, and Wells huffed.
“It’s Ares’s senior project, bro,” Wells stated, my brow twitching. “Exactly. Why the fuck would he have her work on that with him? That shit means too much to him.”
“He’s acting weird,” Thatcher surmised. “Real weird. You know how protective Wolf is over any of his art. Let alone the thing that’s supposed to get him into fucking college.”
I did know, my buddy’s art rarely seen. Outside of us and his family, Wolf’s art was his life. He didn’t expose that part of himself to people a lot.
And he was sharing that with Sloane?
That didn’t make any fucking sense. None of us guys got to see his shit all the time, and we were his best friends.
Something didn’t sit right, something weird like what Thatcher said. I picked up the phone, texting Wolf. I was going to give him a second to explain himself.
Because he had a lot to fucking explain.
Chapter Eighteen
Sloane
The animal kept getting closer. Its angry teeth kept getting closer.
Its monster eyes…
Mommy kept tugging me toward it, my feet skidding on the floor.
“You have to. You have to go,” she said, tears in her eyes. Why was Mommy crying? “I’m so sorry, baby.”
“No!” I screamed, jerking at her hand. She let go, and I raced away.
