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She stiffens. “There’s a monster in the woods?”
I turn my head to stare at her. “There was. And now there is again.”
Delilah’s eyes widen, and she leans in closer, her auburn hair falling like a curtain around her face. “What do you mean?”
My body trembles, and I hug my knees tighter. “Earlier, when I said my mom died, that wasn’t completely true. She was murdered in those woods.”
Delilah’s hand touches my back. “What happened?”
I take a deep breath, fighting down the guilt that always comes with this retelling. “When I was nine years old, Owen and I went into those woods to search for treasure. We thought it would be an adventure. But we got turned around, and night fell. We were attacked by a rogue werewolf, though I didn’t know that’s what it was at the time. All I saw was the curse. A black monster made of smoke with red coals for eyes.”
Delilah gasps, her hand flying to her mouth in shock. “Oh, Rowe, I had no idea.”
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as memories flood back, vivid and painful. “My mother saved me, but she… she didn’t survive. The monster killed her and then attacked Owen. That’s how he was cursed to become a werewolf.”
Sympathy fills Delilah’s eyes, and she reaches out to touch my shoulder in a comforting gesture. “I’m so sorry, Rowe.”
“After that,” I continue, my voice quivering, “My dad didn’t trust that the people of Hartford Cove could keep me safe, and I didn’t ask to come back. I blamed myself for what happened, even though I was just a child.”
I sniffle and rub my nose against my leggings. “When my dad died, though, this was the only place I had to go. I’ve only been back three months, and there’s another monster in the woods. Maybe I’m a curse for this place.”
She pales, her hand dropping from my shoulder as she sits back, shock etched across her face. “You returned here four months ago?”
I frown. “Yeah, but you knew I only came back here recently.”
Delilah pushes a shaky hand through her hair. “I did, I just didn’t realize…That’s when Bryant moved us from the house to the bunker.”
“Oh.” Realization dawns, and my shoulders hunch. “That was probably my fault, then.”
She shakes her head. “How could it possibly be your fault? You didn’t even know about everything that was going on when you came to Hartford Cove.”
“Bryant and my dad were…friends.” Ashamed to admit it, I drop my cheek onto my knees. “My dad was originally sent out to chase a lead about the Wendall witch, but when he found her, they fell in love and ran away together. After going rogue, the huntsmen ordered his death, and Bryant was the one who finally tracked him down and killed him.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “We met at the morgue, which is when Bryant realized that there was another Wendall witch, and he decided to keep me for himself out of some psycho desire to take care of me in my dad’s honor.”
The memory of that time is still hazy with grief. “He lived in my home for five months before I realized he was planning to have me declared insane and make himself my legal guardian. Tris and I ran, which is when Bryant defected from the huntsmen.”
“And since he ran the Sunlight Project, he decided to keep the rest of us for himself, too,” Delilah says in a dull tone.
I lift my head. “I’m so sorry for what happened to you all. If not for me, he never would have buried you all in that bunker—”
Her hand on my arm stops me. “We were already prisoners. It was just a new cell.”
I shake my head. “But some of you died.”
“They weren’t the first to die in the Sunlight Project.” Delilah’s expression darkens. “I’m so glad you killed that monster. Knowing he’s gone is the only thing that lets me sleep at night.”
Her words cut through me, and I look away, unable to face her and uphold the lie.
The last time I saw Bryant, he’d been a half-formed man hooked up to blood bags and even crazier than before. While I sincerely hope he died before he could finish healing the gunshot wound to his head, I won’t believe it until I see his dead body.
Part of why Ros keeps leaving isn’t all about shutting down the huntsmen. He, too, wants to make sure Bryant stays dead, for the sake of everyone he tormented.
I force a smile, not wanting to shatter the illusion of peace and safety that Delilah holds dear. “I’m glad you can sleep better.”
She squeezes my arm. “Do you know what this means?”
“I don’t,” I tell her honestly.
