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Not to say it wasn’t about to get a little bit messy.
Chapter33
Abby
Ididn’t collect my deliveries that day. I was too afraid to go anywhere, to chance running into Elijah or one of the guards staying with him. I was sure that Orson had someone watching me now, waiting for me to slip up and lead them to Elijah.
But Orson didn’t call me to make the drops, either, and I sat on my sofa with the curtains drawn, rocking back and forth, willing my head to clear.
What am I going to do?
My phone belonged to Orson. It was standard Verity issue for all the runners. I didn’t want to use it to call out, but I was sure Elijah was going to call it, and if Orson was tracing the calls…
Gnawing on my lower lip, I sent him a text.
Everything is fine. Don’t call or text me. I’ll be in touch.
He didn’t respond, and I breathed slightly easier when he didn’t. At least he was giving me time to figure this out.
Lora,I thought, remembering the shivering wolf who had survived.I can talk to her and find out exactly what Orson knows.
That was a risky game, too. The girl had been terrified, and Orson had been enraged.
I might have completely driven myself over the edge if the front door hadn’t unlocked, forcing me to my feet.
“Abs?”
I poked my head around the corner and saw Etta standing in the doorway, a key in one hand and a covered casserole dish in the other. “
A smile broke out over her face. “There you are!”
I stared at her skeptically.
“You have a key to my house?” I demanded.
Etta looked embarrassed and dangled the single key with a laugh.
“Yeah. I forgot, actually, but I was going through an old drawer and—”
“Bullshit! Did Orson send you over here to spy on me?!”
Indignation flooded me, and Etta’s face fell. She hurried over the threshold and closed the door, shaking her head.
“No, Abby, of course not. I came here on my own accord. To apologize.”
Scoffing, I pivoted on my heel and marched back to my nest among the blankets on the couch.
“It’s a little late for that. Orson tried to kill Elijah.”
“No, honey, that’s crazy,” Etta said, joining me. She set the tin-foiled plate onto the table and wiggled an eyebrow. “I baked cinnamon and marigold cookies.”
She winked, but I was in no mood for her glitter and unicorns crap today. She had sold me out, and now a war was unfolding around us.
“Okay, I know you’re mad—” Etta started to say, but I cut her off.
“I’m not mad! I’m heartbroken!” I told her furiously. “He’s my mate, and you’re supposed to be my best friend.”
Etta frowned and perched next to me on the couch.
