23. Jeffrey

It should've felt weird to have someone else in my space. Like a violation. But it didn't.

Because I wanted Mutt with me always, and I was coming to terms with that fact. Which was why it wasn't fucking fair. None of this was.

A week had passed since Mutt's return and I was no closer to answers. Every day the moon loomed high in the sky, and my resentment for it grew.

Today I'd convinced Avery to take me to a town on the outskirts of Ridgefield, looking for answers from one of the local hunters. His name was Allen. He'd been kind, worked at a crematory, and was soft spoken. But he'd been unable to help me. He even directed me to one of the main lodges in the area, as there were two, but I wasn't ready for that yet.

Wasn't ready to mingle with the people Lydia had raised me to fear.

I was supposed to be one of them but I wasn't.

And every day, I considered calling Lydia.

Considered facing my monster so I could save Mutt.

The tickets I'd bought burned a hole in the back of my mind. The knowledge that I was only a plane ride away from her, hanging like a cloud over my head. It was a last resort. A last resort that grew more tempting with every day that passed.

Only…deep down I knew even if she could help me she wouldn't.

And I didn't want to waste any of the time I had with Mutt.

But still…memories assaulted me as they often did when I thought of Lydia.

The weight of a gun in my hand. The scent of blood in the air. The laughter as bodies fell and hunters celebrated their deaths like it was an accomplishment and not murder. I'd done my best to block them out, but there was only so much I could do.

Memories twisted like a noose around my neck, flickering behind my eyelids.

Copper, copper, copper.

All day I'd caught myself wondering what she'd think. What she would do.

The answer had sent me running to the bathroom to throw up.

Because Lydia was not a savior. And I knew her solution to this problem would be to put a silver bullet in Mutt's head.

Lydia had stuck her talons so deep inside my brain, even if I pulled them out splinters would be left behind. It was ridiculous to think I should ask her for help. She'd never helped me. Not a single day in my entire fucking life.

All she'd done was hurt me.

She'd peeled my skin from muscle, and beat every bone in my body till I was shattered and easy to rebuild.

"You're a natural," one man had said, a grizzled hunter with a handlebar mustache and too much chest hair. The woods creaked, the stars high above, darkness creeping around us. A group of ten or so hunters gathered, all staring at Lydia like she shined sun out of her asshole. But they weren't here for Lydia today.

No.

They were here for me.

My first time as head hunter.

My initiation.

He'd slapped my shoulder, and I'd laughed—because that was the person I was supposed to be. My character would be happy. He'd be thrilled. He'd just killed a wendigo.

"I learned from the best," I grinned, jerking my head toward Lydia.

"You're lucky," the man's hand lingered on my shoulder and I hated the fact that it felt good. Kind touch had always been the surest way to tear me apart.

"I am," I agreed. Inside I shriveled up, a withered husk.

"Your aim was a little off. But overall it was a good hunt. You did our name proud," Lydia had said later that night as we'd fallen into our matching twin beds. She spoke like she'd just handed me a zillion dollars, a puppy, and a truckload of cocaine. Like I was supposed to fall to my knees in gratitude that she'd offered me a single shitty compliment. But I wasn't phased. Because at age eighteen, I'd been with her for nearly ten years now, and I knew how to play her like a fiddle.

I still didn't understand why we had to share a room. I'd won her trust. It had taken years, but I'd done it. You'd think that would come with a little freedom.

But the leash I was on was as short as ever.

"Thank you," I'd smiled at her, fluffing my pillow and pulling my blankets high so she couldn't see any part of my body.

"I think you're ready," she'd said, turning to look at me. I glanced over, because it was what she wanted, and I immediately regretted that choice. The way she was staring at me was…unsettling. Her tiny, compact body lay still as a corpse in her bed, her bleach blonde hair slicked back tight. And I knew then, that something was…off. Her eyes were manic, bright . Her painted lips were pulled into a grin that sent a chill down my spine.

"Ready?" I echoed, keeping my tone light even though I was terrified.

"For the anchor that's been holding you down to be cut," she'd hummed, like I didn't know exactly what and who she was talking about. Like she hadn't just talked about separating me from the only person that gave my life any meaning.

Blair.

"Lydia—" Panic. Panic zinged through my body, made me feel sick and small, off-kilter. I shouldn't have gotten cocky. I should've never thought I could predict her, that I'd gotten a handle on this after all.

"Mommy," she corrected me, and I flinched. Fuck. I hadn't slipped up like that in years. What was I doing?

"Mommy," I said, tone soft and careful. Careful not to show weakness. "What do you…I mean— What do you mean? "

"You'll see." Her reply was cryptic. And it…haunted me. Haunted me all night as I stared unseeingly up at the ceiling, a gun beneath my pillow, and my mind a million miles away. She turned her back to me, and for a single—solitary second, I debated killing her. But I lost my nerve.

I hadn't known then what exactly she was planning, but in hindsight, I'd simply been blind. It felt so…obvious now. The papers she'd placed in her husband's desk for us to find. The trap laid for Blair to come to Elmwood where she could take care of him once and for all.

The fortune she thought she was owed.

The sister she'd killed to get it.

I should've killed her, I knew that now.

What was one more stain? It wasn't like I'd ever been clean.

So many…so many people had died because I was a stupid kid. And I knew that. All my life I'd known that. I'd carried that burden with me every goddamn day. Felt its shackles around my wrists and its weight on my shoulders. It altered the way I thought, the way I breathed, this ever-present ache that never lightened. Like walking on a bed of nails.

The only time I'd ever managed to truly forget was when I was with Mutt.

When he dragged me into his—or my—bed. When he jerked me over the long line of his body, let me lay my head on his pillowy chest, and listen to the steady thump of his heartbeat. When he held me close and tight, grabbed the back of my neck, and pinned me where I was safe and happy and cared for.

Where I belonged.

Not because I had to—but because he simply…wanted me.

Wanted me the way no one ever had.

"Sometimes I wish you were a wolf," Mutt had said once. "Not because you aren't perfect the way you are—because you are. But because I think…if you could scent how I feel about you—if you could feel the way my heart beats when you're around. If you could hear my truths, I could make you happy."

Mutt was safe. He was warm.

He was bright enough to chase away my shadows.

And I…trusted him.

I trusted him to keep me safe. From everything that haunted and hurt me—and from myself too. He'd saved me more times than I could count.

And now I wanted to save him.

I wanted to keep him.

I wanted to live for a future I'd never known I'd have.

But that didn't mean I wasn't terrified.

Because now…now there was something new to lose. Someone new. And part of me condemned myself for allowing these feelings to grow at all—but I…I couldn't regret him. Even if this hurt. Even if I failed. Even if all I had were memories.

At least now I had good ones.

Feeling sick and sluggish, I tore my clothes off and slid inside the shower stall. Nightmares still festered in the back of my mind. Nightmares of a world where there was no more cuddling, no more laughter, no more wagging tails.

Nightmares about losing Mutt entirely.

Nightmares about living a life without him.

I hadn't had time to settle yet. Usually the hot water helped, but right now it just…hurt. I couldn't seem to get my hands to stop shaking while I gingerly twisted the shower knob and squeezed my eyes shut tight as the pipes wheezed into action. You had to baby the damn thing. Pull too hard and the handle would pop right off.

The pipes sputtered, and with a rush of heat, a torrent of water was let loose. It pounded harshly against my body, boiling my skin as water drops skittered across my shoulders. I hissed out a breath, focusing on the bright bursts of pain. They grounded me enough in the present that Lydia's voice didn't feel quite so loud as I clenched my teeth tight and willed the panic that had been stalking me all day to subside.

Think about something else.

I needed a distraction, and my bacon-chip-eating house guest was the perfect candidate. Werewolves kept their secrets close. And I'd yet to find one fucking usable thing that would work to give Mutt more time.

One of Lydia's buddies had once told me that werewolves peed on their mates to mark their territory. I really, really hoped that wasn't true. The same guy had gotten himself killed trying to lure a group of goblins out of a cave using a pack of firecrackers and imitation gold, so really—it was probably wise to ignore anything he'd said.

It was unfortunate that I knew more about their peeing habits than how to save Mutt.

Lydia's training forced the monsters under my bed in front of my bullets. And yet nothing I'd been through could help me now. Not when I needed it.

There was no escaping my past today.

I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't ? —

Gasping like a fish out of water, I jerked the dial on the shower as hot as it would go, hoping the pain would be enough to distract me again. Thankfully, it cooperated instead of breaking. Woosh, it rained down, baptizing me of my thoughts.

Breathe, breathe, breathe.

Think about something else, anything else.

I was glad that water had decided to be blistering today.

The more it burned, the more centered I felt.

My teeth started to chatter, my heart racing as my jaw clenched tight. It stayed just as unforgivingly hot as when I'd first gotten in, but I welcomed the pain. I let it assault my back, familiar numbness settling into place. I shut my eyes and the world went dark. My teeth ached. My hands were shaking.

I reached for the bar of soap and—grabbed the scentless bottle Mutt had bought me instead. And then I sat on the shower floor and cried. At least, until Mutt's furry head pushed through the bathroom door, and the big hairy beast crawled into the shower beside me. His fur became matted and soaked, but he didn't mind.

And as I buried my face in his fur, my thoughts spin-spin-spinning, I tried to figure out what the fuck I was going to do.

Because I'd been wrong when I'd thought I was lost before.

How could I have been lost when I'd never known where I was in the first place?

And now I did. I did know. I knew happiness. I knew who and what I was. And I just…I didn't want to lose him. Blair had said I deserved to be happy. I'd thought it an empty platitude. Hadn't believed him or trusted it.

But I was starting to think…that maybe…if someone as sweet and loyal as Mutt wanted me. Maybe if my brothers were so doggedly determined to keep me in their lives. Maybe the fact I'd survived at all meant I was stronger, better, more loved than I thought.

They say it's better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.

And they were right.

Because I'd bear this pain gladly if it meant I got to keep Mutt for as long as possible.