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I shook my head. “Forget what I said.”
“Well, here’s what I see … You, Aera Song, are warm and loving,” he said softly, leaning in as his voice sent invisible butterflies into my tummy in a way I’d never experienced with Cole. “And being warm and loving is not a sign of weakness; it just means you’re capable of loving others besides yourself. To love even after knowing that you could get hurt? That’s your strength, and you should own it. Anyone should feel charmed to have someone like you by their side. Think of it this way …Youare Cole’s‘the one who got away,’ and you deserve better. If I were him, I would never let you go.”
My jaw dropped as I laser-focused my gaze at him. What he said was beautiful, but suspicious. When he caught me staring, I immediately tore my eyes from him and said, “Go home, Gray.” I refused to let him see just how his words affected me.
Gray had always been candid. If I did something wrong, he’d call me out and laugh at me. If I did something right, he’d also be the first one to acknowledge it. But since I, admittedly, had done more wrongs than rights—like falling in love with Cole for no apparent reason—I’d only seen Gray as the mean kid.
Now, for the first time in my life, he sounded tolerable.
Maybe a little too much.
My mom arrived before I could retract my earlier command. She offered Gray a ride, but he politely declined and walked away, shoulders hunched.
Mom genuinely disliked his black studs, so she seemed happier than I was that he refused her offer. Then, her boy toy called her on the phone. They chatted for so long, she’d completely forgotten I was still there all buckled up in the passenger seat.
Once she finished parking the car at the garage, I went straight to my room and rummaged through my old drawer. I picked up a photograph hidden beneath my clothes. It was a picture of Cole and I during elementary school. I grabbed the folded photograph and began unfolding it, revealing little Gray Yoo smiling in between us.
I tsked.
That wasn’t even the first time.
Gray had always been there, ruining every wonderful moment I had with Cole Kimbrough, and yet … I couldn’t help but feel the need to keep him alive. The vision of his death, the way his face crumpled into sadness—or maybe resignation—as he plummeted over the cliff, was one I still couldn’t shake. Not even in my dreams.
So, for the first time ever, I left the picture unfolded and allowed myself to appreciate what he added to it.
Family or Pack
Blood trickledover my fingers as I dug my claws into human flesh. Before me stood a large man, a hunter in a black leather jacket. His strength was nowhere near mine as he tried to pry me off his neck. “If I see you roaming around in my territory again,” I warned as he flailed in my grip, “your eyes will be next.”
I withdrew my hand and watched the hunter scramble to the ground, gasping for air as his color slowly returned. He attempted to snatch his gun back, but I kicked his face with such force he ran away screaming, calling me a monster.
I spared him one last glance before he completely disappeared.
“It’s definitely not him,” I muttered to myself, bending over to take the gun from the ground and racking its slide to empty the chamber.
The bullets looked plain and compact, perfect for beginners. It was also smaller than the caliber that had killed Willa.
“Are we too late for the show, Alpha?” Gretta emerged from the large rock beside me, the dye in her pixie cut matching her tight yellow tank top. Huxley and Stan were behind her, scanning the surroundings with their wolf vision.
“Right on time.” I swerved to face them. I had called after school to tell them about the situation with Rainer, the search for Willa’s murderer on the side. Stan even helped me with getting the antidote for Keith.
“You didn’t kill him? He saw your handsome face,” Gretta said.
“He’s a lone hunter,” I said. “If he finds a group, that’s good. Maybe he’ll lead Willa’s murderer to us.”
“Well, that’s very reassuring,” Huxley remarked.
Stan stepped forward. “Is the boy feeling better now?”
“He’ll be fine as soon as it takes effect tomorrow. Thanks to you,” I added. Stan had created the antidote, Udomuran, a long time ago to fight against most poisons. It was partially a failure. It only worked for humans, not werewolves. Keith would probably need a few more days to fully recover his energy, but at least he wasn’t dying anymore.
“Alright, good to hear,” Stan replied. I handed him two very distinct bullets.
“I think there’s something else going on here,” I told him. “Something much bigger than the hunters at school. I can’t explain it, it’s just instinct. I need you and these two hotheads to look into it quietly. Can you guys do that?”
“Whoa.” Huxley’s eyes widened in awe as he looked at the bullet. “That’s a really cool bullet. What does R mean?”
“Rogues?” Gretta, without glancing at the bullet, offered a suggestion as she picked up a random stone on the ground.
