37. Drew

I flinch when I hear my father's door shut down the hall. It's already one in the morning, but I force myself to remain still, keeping my breathing even. Every so often, I pinch my thigh through the joggers I'm wearing. I can't risk falling asleep, but I can't risk Dad hearing me move around, either.

Minutes tick by and once it gets to half-past two and I've heard no more sounds, I quietly climb out of bed. Dad's snores resonate from his room, and there's no one else in the house. I let out a quiet sigh. Quinn did me a massive favour, convincing his family to take the visiting wolves in, even if he doesn't know the truth of why I needed it.

Now, I need to move quickly. I cross to the window and look out. Asher walks past in the distance, keeping our alpha's paranoid vigil as he stalks the perimeter of the village.

I cast a dark look at my bedroom door. Or is he trying to keep a wayward son in line? Too little, too late. I don't know much about other packs, but I know this isn't how they're supposed to be run.

I grab the already packed bag from the back of my wardrobe and shove my phone charger inside. The zip sounds loud in the near-silence of the house, but Dad snores on and I push the bag under my bed before I open the window.

It creaks a little and I pause, cocking my head to one side as I listen. My heart hammers against my ribs. I can lie my way out of this—there are no bars on the window, after all, and I'm allowed fresh air—but I can't go through the waiting all over again. I only have a narrow window of time to get out. Most of the wolves in the village are knackered from the full moon last night, but they'll be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in the morning, and I don't think I'll make it another month.

The snoring doesn't change in speed or volume, so I pull on a hoodie, shove my feet into my trainers, and snatch up the bag.

It's not the first time I've climbed out of my bedroom window, but my stomach twists at the thought that it might be the last. Kyle taught me how, before he left, when he'd been sneaking in and out to run off into the woods. At the time, I thought he was meeting some of the other boys in there, but now… Now I know better.

Later, Quinn had waited at the bottom, the two of us sneaking off to give me a respite from Dad's temper and to play at being rebellious.

I let out a heavy breath. I hope Quinn won't be punished—it's not like he knows what I'm planning. I've been careful to keep that to myself.

I crouch by the window, waiting until Asher vanishes entirely from view. He's the only one patrolling tonight, so I swing myself over the window ledge and grab the drainpipe, as relieved as ever that it's cast iron and can hold my bulk. I'm quick, near-silent in the dark, and only when my feet touch the grass do I let out a breath.

The street is too bright, and I duck from shadow to shadow as I head towards the trees looming up ahead. If I shifted, I'd be there faster, but I know I have to wait. I begged off the run early last night, faking a headache I know Dad didn't believe. Still, he didn't argue, not while Hale was there to coo over me, but I saw the fire burning in his eyes.

My stomach turns, but I force myself forward, not looking back. For a second, I think Hale is right behind me, hot breath against my neck, but I shake my head and the feeling fades. My imagination is running away with me. Hale might think he knows me, but he doesn't. If Quinn doesn't know I'm leaving, Hale won't, either.

I breathe more easily once I'm in the shadow of the trees. Not safe, not yet; I won't believe that until I'm hundreds of miles away. I creep carefully through the shadows, and when I come to a familiar clearing almost half an hour later, I feel like the mingled fear and hope and relief might actually choke me.

"You're looking a little green, kid," a voice says.

I whip around, relief flooding me when Paxton steps out of his own shadows. He gives me an easy smile, letting out a surprised oof when I hug him hard.

It's mostly for show. Paxton is built almost as big as I am.

"All right. You're gonna crush my ribs, y'know."

"Sorry."

"Don't apologise," another voice says with a haughty sniff. "He's just being a drama queen."

I catch Jeremiah's profile out of the corner of my eye. I'm not uneasy around the vampire, not anymore, but we don't have the same easy relationship I do with Paxton. I take a step towards Jeremiah all the same, and he raises his hands, shaking his head.

"We'll see you again, little wolf," he says. "No need for goodbyes."

"You just hate them because they make you cry," Paxton says.

Jeremiah shoots him a glare, but there's no real heat behind it.

Something in my chest squeezes tight. There was love, real love, in my childhood, but that was so brief and long ago. I see it between some of my pack now, but it's never celebrated the way it should be.

It's evident between Paxton and Jeremiah in every look they give each other. They move in sync, as though they can communicate without words.

I want that. I've been willing to go a long time without it—maybe all my life—but it tugs at me in a way few other dreams do.

Then Dad invited Hale in, and I realised that dream would go entirely up in smoke unless I did something about it.

"You know where you're going?" Paxton asks.

I nod, shrugging off my backpack and handing it over. "Yeah. Bus station. Ky—Kieran said I should text him when I get there, and he'll get me a ticket for the next bus. Hopefully, I'll be cutting it close, in case—"

"They won't follow," Jeremiah says, eyes flashing in the dark.

I nod. I strip efficiently, not at all self-conscious, and Paxton takes each piece of clothing, folding it up and putting it on top of everything else in the bag. He frowns when he gets to my trainers and ends up tying them together by the laces and around the front of the bag.

"It'll do," he mutters as Jeremiah quietly laughs behind him.

"Thanks," I say. "You're sure you'll both—"

"We'll leave enough of my scent around to keep them guessing," Jeremiah says. "We'll be fine. Focus on yourself."

I swallow, suddenly nervous as I shift from foot to foot.

"What if he doesn't want to help me? He left to get away from"—I gesture, including the pack, the village, trying to encompass everything our lives have been—"all this. He might not want to have anything to do with supernaturals."

Jeremiah's eyebrows lift. He and Paxton exchange a look I can't read.

"He loves you," Paxton says finally. "That didn't change just because he had to leave. And even if Kieran can't help you, there'll be people who can. I'm certain."

My brother's new name comes easier for him. I can tell. It's not a surprise. They both helped Kieran leave, too, but Paxton was the one who accompanied him.

Unlike me, Kieran wasn't able to leave on his own. I shiver.

"Okay. I'll see you again?"

"I'm sure of it," Jeremiah says, his smile small and only a little sad.

Paxton nods.

I close my eyes, calling up my wolf. He's part of me—not really separate, not really whole—and I feel the joy of two halves meeting before my body begins to shift. The pain is sharp and brief and instantly overwhelmed by the joy of being in my other true shape.

I shake out my fur and hold still as Paxton approaches, carefully fastening the backpack on the way I taught him.

"That good?"

I lick his hand in response. Paxton huffs a laugh. "All right. Be careful. We left you a route to follow. Just follow our scents."

I yip in response and then Jeremiah is there, his hand tight on Paxton's shoulder. "Come on," he says, drawing Paxton back. "Time for another bird to leave the nest."

I watch them for a moment before I tear myself away, turning and plunging into the darkness of the woods.

I don't think like an actual wolf when I'm in this form—I understand that I'm in the middle of a complex plan and that I have to get to Manchester because once I'm there, I can contact Kieran and get out of here—but the thoughts I have are much more straightforward than when I'm human. Still, I remain focused as I follow Jeremiah's and Paxton's scents to the river, wading a mile upstream before I climb out again.

It takes a couple of hours to get to the city, and I hide in an alley when I'm close to the bus station and transform back. It's still dark out, so I don't need to worry about being seen, but I shrug off my bag and dress quickly, cold air biting at my skin.

Once I'm dressed, I turn on my phone and send Kieran a message.

I'm here.

My stomach twists again. If they're tracking my phone—

Here. I'll be there when you get in. See you soon.

I open the screenshot of the ticket he's bought, breath catching in my throat when the image loads. London. I close my eyes briefly. Of course. I had thought that, but I've never said it aloud.

I think of what I said earlier, about Kieran not seeing any more supernaturals. Yeah, like he's avoiding them down there. According to anyone I've ever met, London's crawling with them.

I check the mouth of the alley before I emerge from it, heading straight for the station. The bus is due to leave in twenty minutes, so it's already waiting, but as the driver glances at my ticket and waves me aboard, all the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

Turning my head, I catch sight of a man standing a few bus stands away. He's dressed all in black, even black leather gloves covering his hands, and when a breeze passes us by, the scent of him lodges in my nose and sets my heart to racing.

Vampire.

Not just any vampire. I know his scent, even if I can't place it, and something about it has me absolutely terrified.

As though he can read my thoughts, the vampire's full lips spread into a smile. It doesn't reach his eyes. My breaths come faster and inside, my wolf whimpers, wanting to curl up into a ball—or run.

"You getting on or what?" the driver asks, snapping my attention back to him.

"I, uh—" I look back, and the vampire is gone. "Yeah. Sorry."

I choose a seat towards the back of the bus and pull my hood up, heart pounding and eyes wary as I watch the station and each person who approaches. There aren't many of them, not with how early it is, but I'm still worried about the vampire, and I don't relax any until the bus door closes and we pull away. Even then, the feeling that I'm being followed only vanishes once we're on the motorway, steadily moving south.

I let out a shaky breath, pushing my hood back down. Everything I've been holding back floods me all at once and my eyes prickle, my face going hot.

I press the heels of my hands into my eyes. I'm not there yet.

Soon, I will be.

And hopefully there, I'll be safe.