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ns? Do you ever go back to your pack’s land?”
He was quiet for a long time. His face got this haunted look, his eyes were glowing with the wolf, and I knew it was probably because he felt threatened even just thinking about the place.
“I don’t know what happened to them. I haven’t been there since you and Van brought me back after healing me. I scrounged all the money from the houses and some supplies—a tent, clothes, and all the food I could fit into my pack—and I took off. I figured the people didn’t want to see me, and…”
I wanted to say something, but he kept talking and I wasn’t about to interrupt.
“But a couple of years ago, a lawyer found me. He’d been trying to track me down for a while. I didn’t realize that you covered up their deaths so well, making it official in the human records.”
A little line formed between his eyes as he waited for confirmation, and I gave him a nod. “Yes, we always try to cover our tracks. Having so many go missing at once would cause a lot of questions, and it seemed better to get death certificates.”
He stared down at the pavement. “I wasn’t thinking about any of that.”
I nudged him a couple times until he looked at me. “Why would you? You had enough on your plate just trying to recover from all of it.”
He huffed one loud breath and pulled his hand from mine. I instantly missed the warmth of it.
“As the only surviving member of the pack, everything in the pack’s accounts—land, money, stock portfolio, the businesses in the neighboring town—is mine. It’s how I can afford to go to St. Ailbe’s. But other than that, I don’t touch the money. I’ve thought about going back and burning the whole place—houses, barns, everything—to the ground, but I don’t know what good that would do. It’s not going to solve anything and it won’t fix what happened there.”
“If you ever change your mind about going back, I’ll go back with you. All you have to do is say the word, and I’ll have Van take us. We can burn it or tear it down or sell it.”
“Selling it…” He looked at the stars again. “I wouldn’t be able to use the money. I can’t—”
“You can’t right now, but maybe in ten years. Twenty.” The look he gave me was full of doubt and denial, but I was right. “A little time and distance solves so many of life’s problems. And I’ll go with you whenever. It doesn’t have to be today or tomorrow. You saved me from hitting that dirty police station floor. So now I owe you.”
He laughed, and it was a strained sound, but it relaxed him a little. “Let’s call it even.”
“Even.” I liked the sound of that.
“I never thought I’d see you again, but I’m glad we’re friends.”
Headlights pulled up and a window rolled down. “Get in!” Michael’s voice called out to us.
Chris stood and stuck out his hand to pull me from the ground. I took it.
“I’m Christopher Matthews,” he said as he pulled me up. “It’s good to finally get to know you, and to have a friend who really knows who I am.”
“Cosette Argent.” I grinned at him. “It’s truly lovely to see how good you’re doing. I have to say that I’m pretty proud of you. And it’s nice to have someone who knows who and what I am, too.” I gave his hand a squeeze before letting go. “Friends.”
It was the last moment before everything went to shit for me, but I went to bed that night with a smile on my face for the first time in a long time. I had a friend who knew what I was—who I was—and still wanted to be my friend. Not to use me or anything like that. We both had secrets from our group, and I would keep his. Just like I knew he would keep mine. And the past we shared would be another secret.
I didn’t know how far that friendship would grow, but over the next few weeks, as my world went sideways, Chris was always there. Making me laugh. Keeping me sane. Being the light in the dark.
I was pretty sure he loved me back, and I wasn’t sure if that made things better, but it definitely made them harder.
There were voices talking, pulling me from my dreams—from my memories—but I wanted to go back to sleep. I wanted to be back there and stay in that moment. Relive it over and over. It had been so simple. No politics or games or strings. Just honesty and respect and friendship.
But my head was pounding, and I couldn’t.
A moan slipped free as I sat up. I blinked. Even the dim candlelight was too bright. I closed my eyes tight. My head felt like someone had slammed it into the floor over and over and over. I rubbed my hands on my scalp but there was no blood.
If I was feeling this bad, Van had to be close by. “What happened?” My voice was strained with pain, and even just the sound of my harsh whisper made the throbbing in my head worse.
“You were drugged,” Van said softly from beside me. “Poisoned.”
That made sense, given the headache. If it wasn’t so painful, I’d have laughed. I cradled my head, hands against my temples, as I hunched over. “Three attempts on my life in less than what?”
“Twenty-three minutes.” His voice was soft, but I could hear his anger sizzling underneath.
