Page 111 of Break Out the Girl

Everyone looks up as I enter, but the first thing I hear?

My brother’s voice.

41: AURORA

“This is Cosmo Drakeward, leave a message.”

It’s completely disorienting to hear my brother’s voice through the scratchy speaker.

A man, who I presume is Tally’s dad by the similarity of their faces, follows the prompt. “Cosmo, it’s me—again. Call me back as soon as you get this. It’s urgent.”

I take another step forward into the room. “Hi.”

“Rory!” Tally shoots out of his chair, crossing to me in a couple of strides. “You shouldn’t be up. How do you feel?”

“I’m fine,” I tell him, as the next second I’m twisted around and pulled tight against François.

“Chérie. You almost died. Maybe you did die. Sit, don’t be reckless.” François guides me onto the dining chair next to him.

Tally also sinks back down, as London finds a stool on the opposite side.

I’ve so many questions, but first I turn to Tally’s dad. “Hello, Mr. Bevan, I’m Aurora.”

He nods in return. “Miss Drakeward, glad to see you are feeling better.” There is something in his tone that I don’t understand. Is he angry with me? I guess I can’t blame him, we are a bunch of fugitives putting him and his wife at risk.

I look from him to Tally. “Why are you calling Cosmo?”

“To see if he can rally a raid on the trafficking strongholds we found,” he answers.

“Gods, yes. Those poor kids. He’s not answering?”

Mr. Bevan shakes his head. “I’ll try one of the others.”

Others?

I don’t understand why Tally’s dad has Cosmo’s cell number.

Cos keeps that detail to a very limited circle. “How do you know my brother?” I ask Mr. Bevan.

Tally’s dad doesn’t answer me, but my wolf lets out a deep sigh. “It’s a long fucking story, Rory.”

“And one that can wait,” François cuts in, his eyes darting toward the dark window. “Logistics take priority. It is not safe here for Aurora, or for any of us. We need to move to somewhere less obvious. We’re still wanted-criminals, lest anyone forget.”

“Your friend is right, son,” Tally’s dad replies. “Ashgrave police were out here just yesterday, I can’t believe they won’t be back again soon.” He pauses, frowning, then his face lightens slightly. “What about Miss Bernadette’s place?”

“I don’t see us being welcome there, Dad.”

“She died a couple of months ago, Son. Her double-wide is sitting entirely empty. It’s remote enough. And with nothing to harvest this time of the year, I can’t imagine anyone goes near the place.”

As they discuss, I look around the kitchen. It’s shabby and messy, and full of love and warmth. I lean closer to François and whisper in his ear. “Where’s Basil?”

“In the other room with Jim,” he replies, taking my hand in his while Tally and his dad continue their discussion.

“Bernadette’s place is on that little apple orchard towards the marsh, right, Dad?”

“That’s the one,” Mr. Bevan nods. “No mains water, but there’s a working well-pump and the propane heating tank was filled right before she passed. I know because your mom was up there, tending her through the passing.”

The mention of Tally’s mother makes the energy of the room shift again. Both Tally and his father look out the window, where the torrential rain is still lashing the glass in violent sheets. The anxiety in the room becomes suffocating. Mr. Bevan’s face is carved with worry.