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“How many have you killed?”
My eyes flick back up to his, anger bleeds into my tone. “Should I tattoo a tally on my arm like some thoughtless jughead?”
He cocks his head back, surprised at my response. “No!”
“Is that why you’re here? To become more prolific with your hobby?”
“Asha, I’m sorry, have I upset y—”
I stand from the booth. “I’m done eating. I’ll wait for you all outside.”
Outside. With peoplenottrying to murder everyone I love.
Stupid Enforcers.
I storm out of the diner, hoping none of them will be dumb enough to chase after me.If they do, I'll make them regret it.I need a minute alone to cool down, this rage came on fast and unexpectedly.
They compromise and send Trouble to watch over me, even though Braxton had been wildly excited when the diner let him come in with us. I hear his paws tapping against the floor as he rushes to catch up. When I open the door, he passed through it first, turning back to watch me follow him. “Fine,” I say, and stomp off along the shoulder of the road.
After thirty seconds, my pace slows and my anger abates and now I just feel kind of stupid for making a scene. Stopping, I turn around and look back at the diner. Through its dusty windows, I see them, Max, Braxton, and Orson, chatting amongst themselves. They’re probably explaining to Orson right now what I am. The maligned shifter-sanguivore, leashed for the purposes of eliminating the rabid threat of her kind. A woman who would soon feed on him like a blood smoothie, using him to strengthen my powers before fights.
I watch Orson’s face closely, but can’t make heads nor tails of his responses.
He was going to find out sooner or later. I shouldn’t have stormed out like that. I should be the one explaining everything to him.Why did I blow up like that?
Trouble nudges his snout against my leg, and I grudgingly offer him pets. I suppose my footing is a little unsure now within the team dynamic. Since fucking the brothers, I feel vulnerable, and I lash out when I feel vulnerable. The world has trained that response into me.
Trouble yaps, then growls. I look down at Braxton’s pet and see his hackles raised. “What’s up your ass?” He starts for the diner. “Alright, alright, let’s go back.”
I follow after him, but suddenly feel unnerved by a sensation like eyes on my back. Except, when I turn around, I don’t see anyone, only the desert sprawl dressed in half-light. Still, the feeling persists.Simon?Could he be out there, stalking us?
Or could it be something worse?
NINE
Asha
This motel isa far cry from the Ritz, but the plumbing works just fine, and after a long, hot shower, I’m feeling relaxed and rejuvenated. I swap my dusty outfit for some soft pajamas and exit the bathroom. Orson’s seated at the desk, totally absorbed with his computer. Braxton lounges on one of the two beds, idly flipping through the motel’s advertised “300 channels of satellite TV!” All of them, it seems, are garbage.
I plop down on the second bed, then fall back, sprawling across the mattress. Not the most comfortable, and it squeaks beneath me, but it’ll do. Frankly, anything will do. The past two days and the sleepless night between them have taxed the very last energy from my system. The road shuteye provided no relief. I’m ready for a full night’s rest.
I think to dismiss the boys from the room, tell them they can all cuddle up in the conjoined suite so I can take this one all to myself. Maybe the dog can stay, but he’s sleeping on the second bed.
The door between suites swings open and Max steps into the room. All three of us look up. Max always commands everyone’s attention. He stuffs a phone into his pocket while he returns my gaze. Something in his eyes gives me a terrible sinking feeling.
My instinct is to ignore it, roll over, and avoid whatever ill tidings he’s about to deliver. Escape into sleep. I need it,desperately, and I really don’t feel like extending this double day into a triple.
But then he speaks up, “Asha.”
I groan. “What?”
He merely holds my stare, an implicit request to speak with me in private.
“Are you going to explain whatever the hell this new lead is?”
His expression betrays nothing.
I swallow. In a softer voice, I inquire, “Does it have something to do with the Blood Pack member who slipped through our fingers?”
