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Xander whispers to me, “What do you think’s going on?” His breath has quickened.
“Maybe a famous actor showed up.” Just as I say it, my phone rings, and my heart lurches to my throat. Oh no.
It’s Moffy.
Donnelly being on his phone is making more sense. We’re in San Francisco. I think they might be out of comms range, and if somethingbadis happening in Philly, our bodyguards wouldn’t hear through the radio.
I put the phone to my ear. “Moffy?”
“Luna,” Moffy says a little out of breath.
“It’s Moffy?” Xander whispers, worried. “What’s he saying?”
I can’t exactly put our older brother on speakerphone in public. I just ask him, “What’s up?”
“I just wanted to let you both know…” Moffy starts telling us.
“What is it?” Xander asks, and without thinking, he flips the mask to the top of his damp hair. Flushed and sweaty faced, he instantly becomes a beacon to every young girl in the hallway.
A girl gasps, “That’s Xander Hale.”
“XANDER HALE!” another screams.
His expressive amber eyes grow wide. “Fuck.”
“Oh my God, I think that’s Luna Hale too!”
I take his hand, ready to fight off the crowds. But our bodyguards are so incredibly quick. No time to think or move on my own accord. Frog and Quinn are ushering me to the nearest exit, and Donnelly leads Xander in the same path. My brother quickly slides the mask back on, even if it’s too late.
“Wait, Xander!”
“XANDER!”
I glance back to see overwhelmed attendees shedding tears and snapping photos of my brother.
Frog thrusts open the double doors of the emergency exit. “Luna?”
“I have her,” Quinn says, his hand on my shoulder, easing me forward. I just now notice how Donnelly twists back to check on me. I wonder how much he’s been doing that this trip.
My heart flutters in a strange pattern. How often did he check on Original Luna? Was he always attentive? Was he always here, looking out for her?
I want to knowso badly, but not from anyone but her.Accio, my memories!I’ve already tried every conjuring spell from multiple fictional works, and my mediocre magical abilities aren’t saving the day.
Would Mom be sad knowing she birthed a muggle?
Xander and I are led to a security SUV in the parking lot. We’re fast enough that no one chases us, and I hurriedly climb into the backseat beside my brother. Our bodyguards remain outside the vehicle, talking between themselves in a serious conversation.
Xander rips off his mask, eyeing me consolingly. “I’m sorry I fucked it up,” he whispers sadly.
My brows bunch. “You could never fuck it up.”
He slams his head back against the headrest. “I fucking hate my life.”
My heart clenches. Sometimes I felt suffocated from the fame, from needing bodyguards, from being a teenager and not on my own yet—but I never felt as trapped as my brother.
Silently, I place my hand on his hand, which rests on the leather seat. Xander looks down, his breath slowing. There could’ve been an alternate universe in which I woke up, and my brother wasn’t alive. It was plausible. I know that. I feared that.
His gaze lifts to mine.
