“I have a new lead.” I’d hoped to keep this information to myself, but I can’t be dropped from this case.
The man raises his eyebrows. “Withholding such information is a breach of contract. Why are you only reporting this now?”
“I was looking into it when I received your correspondence. If I’m correct, I hope to have the case closed within a few months.”
The man stares at me for a moment. “What lead?”
I clench my hands into fists.
“Don’t waste my time, boy,” the man says through gritted teeth.
“I’ve been tracking a member of Alpha… in the past.”
“Why?” the man demands.
I swallow, but it gets caught in my throat. “I believe the others have communicated with her and will again soon.”
“Youhaven’t been stupid enough to make contact?” he asks, eyes bulging.
I square my shoulders, keeping my tone light. “Of course not.”
The man stands. “You have two months, and if Parker and Rose aren’t dead, the deal’s off. Now get out of my sight.”
I get up and walk toward the doorway, my heart slamming against my rib cage.
“Wait,” the man calls. “Which Alpha are you tracking?”
I force my breathing to steady, but bile rises in my throat. “Mariella Adams.”
26Mariella
My hand hovers over Silas’s wooden front door. I should’ve asked him to meet on neutral ground, at one of the college cafes or the local mall. Standing here on his porch, our past conversations waft in and out of my head with the cool afternoon breeze.
“You don’t need me anymore.”
“Don’t you need me?” I push the words past the sob building in my throat. A subtle shake of his head is enough to tear my heart open.
“Not enough, Mariella.”
The words sting far less than before. I rap firmly on the door and it swings open, as if Silas was hovering on the other side. He’s wearing his favorite long-sleeved soccer jersey, dark gray sweats, and a solemn expression.
“Mariella.” My name sounds like velvet on his tongue.
I often forget how tall he is, and after our time apart, I’m struck by the size of him. I tilt my head for our eyes to meet, his gray-blue gaze scouring me from head to toe. I used to love being at the center of his scrutiny… Not anymore. Silas moves toward me and, like muscle memory, I mimic the movement. But before we touch, we both pull up short.
I step away from him, and Silas stares down at me with shadows whirling behind his irises. Clearing his throat, he stands aside. I slip into his cottage, wrapping my arms around my chest as if to ward off the scent ofhim, magnified tenfold in the absence of my medication.
“How are you?” he says, closing the door behind us.
Should I tell him I’m a mess? That I’m barely sleeping and, when I do, my nights are plagued with strange dark dreams, and the two people capable of explaining it all have literally vanished?
Last night I woke to Anna hovering above me, her hands gripping my shoulders, and eyes wide with terror. This morning her perceptive gaze tracked my every move until I left.
I scan Silas’s aged wooden floorboards, the pairs of shoes neatly aligned by the door. So much has happened since we last spoke. So much has changed. Silas used to be the person I told everything, willingly. Now I don’t want to tell him any of it. “I’m… fine. And you?”
“I’m alright. Keeping busy.” We stand in silence, until he clears his throat and gestures along the corridor. “Come in.”
I lead the way to the living area and sit at his dining table, while Silas moves into the kitchen. After a few minutes, he places a mug of coffee before me and slides into the chair opposite mine, holding a mug of his own. It’s as if we’ve slipped back in time, sitting together at his table, coffee-scented steam rising from my mug. I don’t need to take a sip to know he’s used my favorite beans and added just the right dollop of milk.
