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EMBER
You’d think I’d have been annoyed when I entered my room to find someone going through my clothes. And if it had been anyone else, I would have been, but Emily wanted to switch things up for the night. To say I was elated was an understatement. My bestie—no, sister—wanted to look cute for her guys.
While I’m all into female empowerment and not needing a man for validation, Emily and I needed as much young woman normalcy as we could get. Call it a continuation of our vacation, but I didn’t want the good times to end. Plus, our vacation was cut short.
For a few days, we were able to forget about Samara and the end of the world, and just be two women in their prime, drinking at 11 a.m., and skinny dipping at night—though we decided to keep that last part between the two of us. Fortunately, we weren’t skinny dipping the night the wolf attacked, or that could’ve made things pretty awkward.
Our first secret as sisters. I know we weren’t technically sisters, but we decided one night while we were swimming at 1:30 in the morning that we were going to refer to ourselves as such, because both of us agreed that we were gypped by not growing up together. So, to make up for it, we decided that we would take life into our own hands and choose our own family. It’s not our fault we were given a shit hand at life.
So, when I saw my sister sashay outside the warehouse, I beamed with pride. My creation had reached perfection. And I had say, Emily pulled off the purple streaks well. With any luck, I’d have her switching from those oversized sweatshirts into something that showed off her gorgeous figure more often.
I could tell that she wasn’t comfortable with the attention in the way she hugged her arms and squirmed past Griffin to her seat. Though, I’ll give her credit and say that she looked totally fierce doing it. If I didn’t have the ability to read her aura, I would’ve believed that she was the queen of confidence. Don’t worry, girl. We’ll work on that.
I know from experience that it takes years to build the confidence to wear the kind of clothes that I did. That’s why I started her off in something that covered her cleavage and reached past her midriff. But wait until next time.
My jovial mood was tainted when Emily called Morgan over. I thought I’d seen a pitch-black aura before on her, but now it consumed her with such a tight hold, I wasn’t sure I saw any light left. There was a flicker, the tiniest glimmer of hope, though it was quickly fading.
And for that reason, I couldn’t help but watch her. As the other women chattered on, my focus was continuously pulled back to Morgan. It was like that moment when you can see a storm approaching. To the left, it’s bright and sunny, but to the right, it’s dark and gloomy. That was what happened when I shifted my gaze between Morgan and the others. Dark to light. Light to dark. Such a sudden shift that only I could see. Though, judging from how Cassian’s expression soured when Morgan was near, I guessed he could sense it, too.
Morgan wasn’t someone we could trust. I’d already had that assumption when I first met her but tried to shake it off. Everyone had a past, and I wasn’t about to judge her for being drawn to the dark. Anyone who’d faced struggles had been drawn to it. But her aura this time was too dark, too strong. There was also a haze of red at the edges. Anger.
That’s how I knew her words were all bullshit. Everything that came out of her mouth was a lie. The smile that curled on her lips… lie. Her kind demeanor… all a damn lie! Emily hadn’t seemed to notice, and Griffin was beyond fooled by Morgan. Surely, it wasn’t just me and Cassian who saw it?
I took a deep, grounding, breath. I was getting ahead of myself, making a big deal from nothing. Morgan was probably angry because she didn’t want to be here around Emily, and she was faking nice to appease Griffin. That made sense. But something in my gut insisted it was more.
Especially when I saw her tracing Griffin’s palm before he went to speak with Emily. There was no doubt in my mind that Griffin had no idea what Morgan had done to his palm. She probably told him that it was supposed to soothe him or something.
But when she grabbed his hand, I could almost see a black essence take form in the shape on his palm. It was so brief that I wasn’t certain my eyes weren’t deceiving me. The whole situation struck me as odd. The essence reminded me of the feral wolf at the lake. Maybe I was getting ahead of myself, making connections where there were none.
Why would Morgan do something to harm Griffin? She loved him. It was present in the way the red at the edges of her aura took on a different hue when he was around—one that was minute, but I had learned to differentiate between even the slightest shift in shade—and that shade implied strong feelings of desire.
So, why would she do something that could harm him? My eyes must have been playing tricks on me. Yeah, that was it. I stay on edge so much, always expecting something to happen, that I’m probably creating problems. A defense mechanism to control the problem before it got out of hand. At least, that’s what I told myself until another thought crossed my mind. What if she was doing that so he’d pass on whatever spell she’d placed to Emily?
I know Griffin wouldn’t hurt Emily—not on purpose, anyway. But if he was unaware, then this could present a major problem. Not only could Emily be hurt, but it would look like Griffin had done it. Now, it started to make sense. If Emily thought Griffin tried to hurt her, then she would be pissed and stop talking to him, leaving him alone with Morgan. Holding the power to harm someone and go undetected was a dangerous power, indeed.
I kept my eyes on Emily and Griffin while peeking back at Morgan every so often. She sat with her legs tightly pulled together, a stark contrast to the loose positions of everyone else in their chairs.
“Guys!” someone shouted, running over with a radio. “We have a problem!” They turned up the dial, the sound of someone talking over the speaker. Everyone hushed, listening intently to the words that would soon sink our hearts.
“Reports of wolf attacks in the Manhattan area. Attacks are said to be quick and surprising as the wolves tear through the victims in a ravenous rage. One witness stated, ‘We had no time to even help the poor guy. The wolf barreled through, a blur of gray, as it tore into him. It left just as fast as it came, and the guy was on the ground, dead before we could help him.’
“Just as the witness stated, the ambush happened so fast, onlookers were unable to help the victims before the attack ended, leaving a number of victims deceased. There have been no survivors of the attacks, and a special response team has been formed to investigate the recent onslaught from these rogue wolves. Areas affected are the Central Manhattan area, specifically Central and Eastern Harlem, Upper East Side, Lincoln Square, extending to the Bronx, Queens, Brooklyn, Hoboken, Jersey City, and even West New Brighton.
“Police are baffled and have no answers at this time. Other organizations, such as PETA, the USDA, and even a few smaller organizations that handle animal life in Manhattan and surrounding areas, have become involved in locating the wolves that disappeared without a trace. Wolves were considered extinct in New York; the only remaining suitable habitat is in the Adirondacks. Where did they come from? Why are they so far from home? Why did they attack? Until we have these answers, police encourage everyone to stay on guard and only go out when necessary.”
The radio host came back on, making a comment about how “it’s like something out of a horror movie” before playing Werewolves of London. Oh yeah, real tactful, asshole. The person holding the speaker turned down the volume and set it on the table.
Everyone’s faces were pale, wide-eyed, covered in shocked and grim expressions. Though, when I glanced at Morgan, I could see a glimmer of satisfaction in her otherwise dark aura. Was she happy about the news of the wolves?
“So, what do we do now?” someone asked. I didn’t see who it was, as my attention was on Morgan.
“Do you think Samara has something to do with this?” Emily asked, the terror present in her tight lips and creased eyebrows.
“Probably,” said Leila, one of the female wolves that had griped about Liam earlier. Her voice trembled when she spoke, and she nervously tugged at her long, black hair.
Morgan leaned forward, showing more enthusiasm than she had all night. “Maybe it would help if we combined our information about Samara to figure out her location. Have you guys learned anything new, or do you have a plan to take her down?”
Emily opened her mouth to speak, but I quickly cut her off, not wanting her to reveal anything to Morgan until I knew she could be trusted—which was doubtful.
