Inside Devin's car reigns silence. The cold rage just seeping out of his pores is enough to turn anyone to stone. His fists clench and unclench on the steering wheel, and he seems to be actively ignoring me. As we drive away, I can't handle his indifference any longer and break the stillness that came down on the small grey car. "Where are we going?" I ask impatiently. "To meet your next driver," Devin replies in a deadpanned tone. I narrow my eyes at him, attempting to decipher his thoughts and failing miserably. Irritated by the absence of the usual ease between us, I make a bold move. "Do you have anything to tell me?" I question. Devin whirls his gaze on me briefly, before concentrating on driving. "The Council didn't ask for a new assessment, I would have known, and you don't even look surprised to be leaving," he explains. I least I know now what I'm dealing with. "I figured this would happen sooner rather than later," I answer evasively. He grits his teeth and shak
I assault Ryan with questions, but he deflects them with ease. He doesn't unveil the mystery, preferring to leave all the explanations to the Elite's leader, whose name Ryan refuses to divulge. After a few minutes, I give up on my restless quest, and instead, appreciate the view as it hurriedly passes by my window. A tinge of doubt finds its way to my bloodstream, becoming impossible to ignore as time wears on. It's been only three weeks since I escaped the hybrid's clutches, and I'm already running towards them, to the nest of my enemies. Everything is rushed, and every task is counted to the second to ensure maximum productivity. It seems I can barely breathe before I'm hastened to another problem, another concern, while I'm still trying to solve my own. My investigation to find the traitor has come to a stop as we can't eliminate any other suspect and don't have enough information to go further. I hope the Elite can at least give me that advantage. If I could just review their
I stare at Ryan's neck, noticing the bare skin where a mark should be placed. My mouth dries as I conjure the right words."Do you feel it too?" I question, gesturing between us. "The pull," I clarify, though from the look he gives me, I didn't have to. Ryan freezes, analyzing me for a second. This close, I can smell his cologne and see the blond stubble that covers his chiseled jaw. He grits his teeth as his stare threatens to make me combust. Ryan doesn't speak for a long time, and I wonder if he too is scared of this moment, this minute that can change our perspective in a blink of an eye, so effortlessly. "Took you long enough to notice. I was starting to think I was imagining it," Ryan says light-heartedly, but I can't appreciate the humor. My lungs stop the intake of air abruptly. A piece of me held on the small tinge of hope that maybe, I was overreacting, that this was just a figment of my imagination. And yet, as my eyes hold the intensity in his grey ones, I realize the s
My eyes follow Nathan, even as Ryan tries to avert my attention elsewhere. Something is awfully wrong with the Elite's leader; though the air is heavy with our mixed breaths, the cold that wafts from Nathan chills me right down to the core. Ryan had me sit on the floor with him, expertly blocking my eyesight of the leader. I curse beneath my breath as I attempt to distract myself by examining the people who crowd the room. I realize with a twist of anger that only a woman joined the ranks of the Elite. It seems that no matter how advanced this group must be, it isn't strong enough to overcome the misogyny that plagues our world. My focus drifts to her. She leans against the wall, a foot propped against the metal behind. She's slender, but her form fills the combat clothes she poured over herself. Her hair is pitch black, billowing around her in a mess of curls, creating an aura around her dark-colored features. She eyes the room warily, almost daring her fellow members to approach h
We don't talk as we navigate between the streets, keeping close to the walls and the poorly lit sidewalks. We walk in profound quiet as the tension of battle rises deep within. We encounter no obstacles or problems on our way to the compound, but we stay alert. I don't notice the compound until Nathan points it out. His finger indicates a two-story abandoned building: the windows on the second floor are broken, and the whole structure appears to be decaying underneath the pressure of the years.I stare at the deserted construction, trying to locate a sign of life but come back empty-handed. The paint that covered its walls disappeared, exposing the concrete below. I look at Ryan inquisitively. This is nothing like the compound I stayed in, hidden in plain sight.We cross the street as discreetly as we can, trying to blend in with the shadows as we join the rest of the group behind a white van and a few bushes. We're clustered together, squeezed in to ensure that we all stay hidden as
Ryan gave me a small first-aid kit to dress the throbbing wound on my arm as we drove back home. The cut is deep, and even though I do my best to treat the injury, it's not enough. Against my protests, Ryan forces me to call Devin to get a nurse to the pack house to heal me when we get closer to my pack. Devin didn't hesitate in aiding me, despite the late hour I disturbed him. I could sense the worry and unease on the other end of the line, but I refused to give any more details. Ryan doesn't speak much for the rest of the journey. His silence is deafening in the stillness of the night, but I know that he needs this time to mourn, so I stay quiet, suppressing the onslaught of questions that threaten to tumble out of my lips. I'm almost relieved when I recognize the sightings, eager to leave Ryan and the last remains of the battle behind. Still, as I stare at the man next to me, a rooted sadness settles in. How many times did he execute this ritual? How much did he lose to hold his
Devin drives me home, filling the silence with easy conversation, but it does nothing to appease my nerves. Still, I'm grateful for the distraction. I hold a list of recommendations in my hand on how to treat my stitches, left by Bethany on the kitchen counter. I start to regret the way I snapped at her. My mother eyes me eerily when I get home, her glance lingering on my sweater. I thought about returning it to Devin, but the fabric is way too comfortable and warm to commit such a crime. When she charges at me with a whole set of questions, I dodge her moves, promising that I'll clarify everything to both of them tonight. I pass my day in a state of pure anxiety, distracted by my thoughts, so much so that Mrs. Hill sends me a sharp look every time I space out. I count the hours until they get back, getting more impatient by the minute. I attempt to make myself look presentable and fail miserably. My hands shake as the doom gets closer, impossible to ignore. I grab the necklace,
The days go by torturously slowly, each one longer than the previous. A lump formed and lodged itself in my throat, relentless in suffocating me. The tension between my parents and me is unbreakable, a barrier that I can't climb across. Ryan called soon enough, and as predicted, the alphas commanded the Elite to partake in the security of the system whenever there was a pack meeting. Still, considering how much they could have ordered, this seems reasonable, though risky. Since more people will know about the date, it increases the chances of one of them being caught or worse: someone could betray our kind and lend the information to the hybrids.That very same day, I requested a meeting with Nathan, and though Ryan tells me that Nathan will probably not comply, I owe my parents to at least try. I could sense Ryan's unease and the sudden doubt that crept into his voice.I'm scared of the outcome. I don't know what to do if he rejects me. All I know is that I can't live with the guilt
The hours pass by incredibly slow as we attempt to deal with all the bagagge that just landed in our laps. So, we do everything we can to minimize the collateral damage. We talk, we walk, and we pretend that the world isn't falling apart right beneath our feet. We fall into a dependent rotine, concerned that even the slightest detour could send us reeling into the somber pit we barely escaped of. When my phone buzzes in the middle of the second night, disrupting the quiet of our small hotel room, I all but jump to it, because there's only one person that would try to text me.Can you come downstairs?I frown. What is Devin doing here so early? Something must be seriously wrong. My heart kickstarts in my chest. I look at my mother's sleeping form once before I push the sheets back from my body, and rapidly tip toe to the exit. I close the door as softly as I can, but I'm already anxious, torn between launching myself into a stream of apologies or questions. I fly by the empty, bare
The walk to the hotel is a blur. So much so that I have no idea how my mother achieved it. She calls someone as soon as we arrive- my father, no doubt. The word 'therapist' is repeated often, but I'm in no condition to resist. The air in the room is pungent with crippling dread, and awkward silence. Nothing I can say can fill the empty void, and it all seems useless. If the cemetery is any proof, it just showed that I can't deal with my past. Any of it. And it's finally catching up to me. What a mess. My mother gets us a few sandwiches for lunch, and I attempt a smile. I don't think I could handle leaving this room, even if I wanted to. She cleans the superficial wounds I created while scratching my back, and we fall back into silence.We sit side by side on the single bed, reeling from the entire experience. It seems like hours before my mother breaks the silence. "How are you feeling?" She asks timidly, and I want to punish myself for making her uncomfortable around me, for push
"What happened at the station?" My mother asks, abruptly rescuing me from my wandering mind. We walk through the empty streets on our way to the cemetery side by side. The air is filled with tension and dread, mostly mine. "Nothing," I reply quickly. She turns to me and gives me the look. The one that says that I'm not fooling her. "It's a bad day," I justify. I can't see she's not happy, but she doesn't force me to say anything else. And all too soon we reach the black iron gates. My steps falter as my heart gallops straight to my throat. "We don't have to do this now. We can come back another time," my mother says noticing my hesitation.I shake my head vehemently. "Let's go," I say with no determination. We navigate through the cemetery, each step weighing more than the previous, my blood rushing, my eyes burning, my breaths shallow, and then... then I find them. The sight brings me to my knees in front of them. My mother attempts to grab me, but I'm in a distant world, so
By the time we hit the road, I'm convinced my heart has finally and utterly given up. My mind swirls around the kiss I shared with Devin, trying- and failing- to make sense of what exactly happened back in my room. Does this change things between us? Does it have to? Still, it's a welcoming distraction from the overwhelming and all-consuming anxiety creeping steadily on me. My mom drives while Devin cheerfully chats away with her from the passenger seat. There's a boyish grin plastered on his face, threatening to split his lips, something that wasn't there this morning. It's strangely fascinating how at ease with each other they seem to be, how the conversation just flows. I can only hope one day to have the same ability. To walk without my ghost's weight crushing me or to endure it as they do. How do they do it? Every so often, Devin glances back at me and smiles with abandon. I know this is just a ruse, a trick to stray his conscience away from the lingering worry. Worry for
Today, I see the graves. Today, I finally say goodbye. And so, I'm all nervous energy, walking around my room aimlessly, just trying to calm down. I barely slept, too afraid of the monsters lying waiting for me with open mouths and sharp teeth.Devin and my parents have tried in vain to calm me down these past couple of days. I can see the worry that oozes off them in waves. Even though being near them is a welcoming distraction, it's not enough. As the hands of the clock get closer to the desired time, my heart escalates to an alarming rhythm, the blood quickly traveling through my veins, rushing, screaming, begging for relief. My mind is so scattered that I've successfully tricked myself into believing that the scars on my back are open. I keep glancing at the mirror to assure myself it's only an illusion. The hallucination is so real that the scent of blood tickles my nose, and my back burns exactly like it did all those days of torture. My brain keeps balancing between past and
I open my eyelids and focus on the middle-aged man in front of me. His full beard, bald head, and relaxed posture strangely put me at ease, as if I were talking to my own father. His calm green eyes try to read right into mine. What does he see? Desperation? "Why did Sean banish his son?" I ask defeatedly. It's not much to go on, I'm relying on pure instinct and curiosity, but I have nothing else to tether to. He crosses his arms and replies nonchalantly. "Because of what the hybrids did to his son."I nod. Everyone knows this much. The hybrids scarred his son. However, I remember the discomfort my dad displayed when he mentioned this, how he said he could never have put me through something like that, and so, I follow his lead."Because of a mark? What, Sean can't handle a scar?" I provoke. The result is immediate. Fierceness replaces tranquility, battling among his wrinkles, anger directed at the perpetrators. Rage that I recognize all too well. "It's more than that," he takes
Even though the tension in the room was suffocating, my parents and I managed to come up with a plausible story for my disappearance. We predicted all of the questions and created the answers. Bethany informed the police that I was discharged and was finally ready to be interrogated. How she got a doctor to play along with the act is beyond me. They came to the house, a man and a woman, and spoke as if not to scare me away. They revised the pictures of my wounds and inquired about every single detail: who they were, their appearance, and what they wanted. I answered as truthfully as I could, except for the purpose of my abduction. I played the role of the devastated victim: fragile, defeated, and heartbroken, to prevent them from confronting me. My parents stood beside me, one on each side, encouraging and aiding the scenario of the destroyed family coming together. It takes us about 2 hours before they're satisfied, though I doubt this will be the last time I hear from them. Onc
Devin tenses, reluctant for once, but he doesn't deny me the truth. "It started four days ago. Your parents asked me to not say anything. They wanted to talk to you first, to deliver the news."I stare ahead once again, pondering over this new piece of information."Don't be too harsh on them, Audrey. They want to protect you. They just don't know how."I bow my head to hide the disappointment and the fear. The overwhelming and all-consuming fear that threatens to untether me from this earth. Against my will, my hands start to shake uncontrollably, and I can feel myself slipping away to another reality, to another time. Slowly, I begin to fall into another flashback. Devin's hand suddenly covers my own, and I flinch out of instinct at the unexpected connection. Still, he shows no indication of moving them soon. This, too, is a change, the ease with which he touches me. "Hey," he says softly. "We won't let them hurt you. You have my word," Devin vows passionately, squeezing my hands
I'm numb. I'm in another dimension as Eric turns on the TV, and my name appears on each channel. A picture pops up next to it- how they got it is beyond me. But there's no mistaking my identity. My breathing becomes shallow, and I become hyperaware of it. Ryan and Eric speak, but the sound is lost on me. Ryan finishes the arrangements with Eric, and all I can do is focus on the air quickly leaving my lungs. I'm done. I'm utterly and irrevocably done. I can't do this anymore. This was the last straw. The thin grip I had on reality just escaped my weak hands. They are coming for me. The words keep replaying in my mind as I try, in vain, to stay tethered to this moment. I'm slipping away. My back burns, reminding me of what they will do when they find me. I can smell the scent of burnt flesh and feel my skin reaping apart beneath the sharpness of the whip. They're coming. I can't breathe. Ryan must have noticed because he quickly leads me away from the building. Still, when he tr