The air in here is recycled and stale, but mostly, it feels heavy. Heavy with the weight of what I’ve brought to this town.
I sit between Knox and Fallon. Eli is on my other side, his knee bouncing anxiously. Across from me, Jude leans against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, his jaw set so tight it looks like it might crack.
Wren’s sitting next to him, holding Simon’s hand, her face pale. Maisie is asleep with her head on Wren’s lap, clutching her stuffed rabbit.
I look at them—at the dark circles under Jude’s eyes, at the way Wren keeps checking her phone, at the tense set of my Alphas’ shoulders.
This is my fault. All of it.
If I hadn’t come to Fox Hollow, Luke wouldn’t be here. The Fox & Fern would be okay. Wren’s mother wouldn’t have been terrified. Jude wouldn’t be standing guard, terrified for his sister.
A knot of guilt forms in my throat, hard and jagged. I should leave. I should pack a bag, grab Maisie, and just disappear.
I can draw Luke away from here. I can go back to running. It was lonely, but at least I wasn’t destroying everyone else’s life.
“You’re doing that thing,” Jude says softly, not looking at me. “That thing where you decide to take on the burdens of the entire world.”
I jump slightly. “I’m just thinking.”
“You’re thinking about leaving,” Knox says. He doesn’t turn his head, but his hand finds mine under the armrest, gripping it tight. “Don’t.”
“I’m danger,” I whisper, staring at my boots. “Look at what happened. He burned down a building, Jude. Because of me.”
“No,” Eli says firmly, turning to face me. “He did that because he’s a monster. Because he’s losing control. That has nothing to do with you and everything to do with him.”
“He’s escalating,” Fallon says, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “The fire... that’s desperation. He’s not thinking clearly.”
“He’s an addict,” Jude adds, pushing off the wall to pace. “He always was. We saw the reports from the city. He’d get high, get paranoid, lash out. If he’s setting fires, he’s spun out of his mind.”
“If he’s spun,” Knox says, his eyes narrowing in thought, “he needs to score. He’s going to run out of money and drugs soon.”
“So we watch the dealers,” Eli finishes. “We put pressure on the supply chain in town. We starve him out.”
“It’s a sound strategy,” Mayor Brighton says. He looks tired, his tie loosened. “We have units canvassing the low-end motels and the known stash houses.”
The heavy door at the front of the station swings open. A uniformed officer walks in, holding a clipboard. He looks grim, but there’s a set to his shoulders that suggests progress.
“We picked up a female trying to hitch a ride on the interstate,” the officer says. “She fits the description of the associate we were looking for.”
I can’t believe this. “The girl who looks like me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the officer says. “She’s in the back room. She’s... she’s in rough shape. She won’t talk to anyone but she said she knows you. Said she needed to warn you.”
I stand up, my legs shaky. “I want to talk to her.”
“Amber,” Knox starts, but I shake my head.
“No. I need to do this.”
I follow the officer down a long, gray hallway. He opens a heavy steel door, and I step inside.
She’s sitting at a metal table, handcuffed to the bar. She looks up, and the sight is like looking into a distorted funhouse mirror.
It’s her. The woman from the photo. The woman Knox helped out.
My doppelganger.
Up close, the differences are shattering. Her dark hair is lank and greasy, hanging in strings around a face that is gaunt and terrified.
