Knowing werewolf hearing as I do now, I am positive if I scream bloody murder, all of the house will rush to me. It’s the middle of the night, I don’t want to scare Mia. But I’m scared. Neil looks like he’s about to die. I settle for a medium, and I scream, “Archer! Beau!! Steven!!” Neil and I w
I hold onto Beau as he drives the motorcycle up the side of the mountain once more. He’s driving as fast as before, but not quite as recklessly. Or maybe I’m just too numb. I don’t feel the same excitement as before, or the same fear. I’m only worried about Neil. Instead of descending down the oth
“You know I have a name,” I say. “Do you?” he teases. I roll my eyes at him, even as I move closer to him again, closing that distance I opened. Maybe I don’t mind him so much anymore. “Wyatt really is an asshole,” I say. “Gods, tell me about it,” Beau says. I look sideways at him. “Why di
That silver is going to kill Neil?! I don’t wait for any more explanation, I don’t wait for anything at all. Instead, I go to Mia, take her from her playpen, and bring her with me straight to Neil’s door. I knock once, but it’s unlocked so I barge my way in without waiting for a reply. Neil is
Neil looks at me and then at Mia, and there is heartbreak in his face. “I didn’t…” I know he didn’t. He didn’t even touch her! Let alone hit her like she acted! Unless… “It’s the silver?” I say, unsure. His eyes go wide. He looks down at his hands. I’ve never met anyone with silver poisoning
“Please don’t think of me as a monster,” Angela says. Too fucking late. Angela isn’t throwing in the towel after a hardy effort to convince Neil to save himself. She’s throwing it all away without even bothering. Kind of like she’s throwing Neil away. I fucking hate it. “I don’t want Neil to
Now that we know Neil’s life is on the line, maybe they can be convinced to do something to help Neil. At the very least, they might have some Gods damned empathy. So I call them into the living room for a secret meeting about Neil. I’m surprised when Archer, Beau, and Steven all show up promptly.
“Our options are limited,” Archer concedes, and I wilt a bit, hope deflated. “So you aren’t going to do anything – again,” I say. I don’t care how close Archer is, how intimidating he is, or how much he’s glaring. “You are letting Neil take the brunt of your father’s ire all on his own.” “That’s