Chapter 46

Forty-Six

IZZY

T he day of the barbecue, I wake with the inexplicable tug of dread pulling at my stomach. It causes my movements to be slow and sluggish as I get ready for the day.

The weather is chilly, though nothing like it was a few days prior. Even so, I choose to dress in a loose, off-the-shoulder sweater and a pair of jeans. I call it my “basic bitch” outfit, but it makes me look pretty. I keep most of my hair down, though I do pull a few strands away from my face and twist them up into a clip.

I can’t believe that I’m going to a party with werewolves . Actual, honest-to-god werewolves. Though…are they really considered werewolves if they don’t shift during the full moon?

It feels strange to be enjoying life after what happened with Minnie, but Hale assured me that this is completely natural. They don’t have funerals for shifters—at least, not in the traditional sense. Instead, they throw parties to honor the shifter’s life and perform some sort of ritual to reincarnate her wolf into a younger shifter.

Or something.

I don’t quite understand all of the details.

When I mentioned to Hale that Minnie wasn’t my biggest fan, he replied, “This barbecue isn’t just for her.”

I wonder if he was referring to the other two women who died.

Larissa, the shifter I fought in the ring, and Ali, the woman I found in the barn.

A chill skates down my spine.

It seems as if I’m surrounded by death, and nothing I do allows me to escape it.

I throw my discarded pajamas into the laundry bin and then spin around…only to have my heart jump out of my chest at the sight of Lissa sitting up on her bed. She looks rumpled, her dark hair sticking up in all directions and shadows hovering below her eyes.

“Lissa?” I blink at her. “Are you all right?”

Her lower lip begins to tremble. “D-don’t…don’t go to the party.”

“What?” I frown.

She clumsily gets to her feet and takes a step towards me. “Please don’t go.”

“Lissa—”

“I think something bad is going to happen.” She begins to pluck at the bottom of her sleep shirt.

“What do you mean?”

This is the most my foster sister has talked to me in…who knows how long. Most of our conversations over the past few days have been awkward and stilted—and usually end with Lissa rolling her eyes and stomping away.

A part of me prefers that Lissa over this one.

That uneasy feeling intensifies—the one that screams at me from all directions, clawing at my skin like jagged talons.

Lissa opens and closes her mouth repeatedly before releasing an airy laugh. “I’m being silly. Just… Just ignore me.”

“You’re not being silly,” I tell her. “What’s going on?”

She waves a flippant hand in the air. “Just a nightmare I had.”

If this were a horror movie, I would scream at the main character—aka me—to trust Lissa’s instincts and not go to the barbecue. I refuse to be the too-stupid-to-live heroine.

But then Lissa sighs and scrubs a hand down her face. “I think I’m just pissed that you and Jake are both invited, and I’m not.”

A little bit of Lissa’s sass returns as she scowls and stomps her foot. Literally stomps it, like a petulant two-year-old.

“It’s for adults only, Liss,” I tell her gently, though that’s not technically true.

It’s for supernaturals…and those who know about the world.

Lissa’s lips purse, but she doesn’t comment. Frost seeps into her dark eyes, turning them obsidian.

Hale and Gerry need to tell Lissa the truth…and soon…before they lose her forever.

I open my mouth—to say what, I don’t know—but Lissa shoulders past me before I can get a word out. The door slams shut behind her, leaving me alone in the room.

What the hell was that about?

Was Lissa’s warning something…preternatural or just the worried ramblings of a depressed and confused girl?

Either way, the boulder in my stomach refuses to erode. I’m not sure it ever will.

Jake’s in the kitchen when I get downstairs, and the sight stops me in my tracks. I can’t remember the last time I saw him out of his bedroom.

He wears a plain white T-shirt and sleep pants, and his blond hair is artfully rumpled. Fortunately, he looks clean, as if he showered recently, which is a huge improvement to the last time I saw him.

He’s leaning inside the fridge but straightens when he sees me. A sheepish smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

“Oops. Busted.”

“I… You…” Irritation flares in my chest. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick about you! You don’t leave your room, and you don’t answer when I call, text, knock, or scream.”

He tosses a bottle of orange juice from one hand to the other. “Are you going to hit me? Because I need to prepare myself if you are.”

“I’m very, very tempted.”

The smile doesn’t fade from his face, though his eyes dim, the baby-blue color turning subdued. “I know you’ve been worried about me?—”

“Damn right.”

“But I needed time to think things through, you know?” He releases a dry, humorless laugh. “I don’t think you understand what it’s like to know that everything you believe in is a lie. I mean…I guess you do, but it’s not like this, you know?”

The wind falls out of my sails at that.

I physically sag forward and place my elbows on the granite countertop.

“I can’t even imagine,” I confess. “I thought it sucked when I learned that my parents weren’t even truly my parents, but…”

“But at least you’re alive.” Jake focuses on the orange juice in his hands. He continually tosses it back and forth, back and forth.

“Jake—”

“I’m not sure you should even call me that,” he interrupts. “Because I’m not truly Jake, am I? He died.”

Swallowing is impossible. “Don’t let this change you.”

He barks out another laugh. “How can I not ?”

“I don’t care what anyone says. You’re Jake. You’re funny and charming and annoying and protective and everything a girl could want in a brother. You’re the strongest person I know. If anyone can get through this, you can.”

The smile gracing Jake’s handsome features turns a little more genuine. “I haven’t really been a good brother, though. I’ve been too caught up in my own shit to ask you how you’ve been.”

“No, Jake. Don’t say that. I don’t expect?—”

“Did you decide if you want to meet with your birth fathers?” he interrupts, cocking his hip against the counter.

His question takes me off guard.

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly.

Jake nods as if he suspected as much. “Well, if you decide you want to meet them, know that I’m here for you. Ride or die, right?”

A smile tugs at my lips. “Let’s hope it’s not the latter.”

“And let’s hope the ride comes with Benadryl because I get motion sickness,” Jake adds, his dimples making a brief appearance.

I laugh out loud at that.

Things suck at the moment, but we’ll be okay.

We have to be.