HALE
Iblow out a breath before biting down on my nail. It’s an anxious habit of mine that Gerry has been trying to get me to quit for years. Still, I can’t stop. Not now. I need an outlet for all of this restless energy skittering just beneath my skin.
Silas crosses his arms over his chest and scowls. His one good eye surveys the room with that keen intensity he’s perfected over the years.
Our group decided to meet in Silas’s apartment. He’s such a paranoid fucker that he checks for bugs and video cameras on the regular.
Which is good, considering their topic of conversation.
“It’s her eighteenth birthday today.” Gerry rubs his hands down his jean-clad legs from where he sits on the couch beside me.
He looks particularly handsome today, with his long hair cascading loose around his shoulders and his leather jacket clinging to his shoulders. Then again, Gerry always looks handsome to me, even after all of these years together.
Kyle moves to stand by the window, shoving aside the curtain so he can peer out.
“We need to talk to her. Soon. We don’t know what’s going to happen today,” Kyle says, frowning.
“We don’t know for sure that anything will happen,” Gerry assures him. Always the voice of reason, even amongst opposing packs.
Kyle begins to fidget, and Silas blows out a heavy breath.
“Sit the fuck down, Remington, before you give me a damn headache,” Silas warns him.
Kyle tosses Silas a frosty glare but does as his packmate says, claiming the armchair on the opposite end of the room.
When Amanda Highland reached out to Gerry and me about another “special” child, we didn’t hesitate to take her in. But I knew within seconds of seeing Izzy that she’s different from the others.
After all, the resemblance Izzy has to her mother is uncanny.
Kyle scrubs both of his hands down his face and rocks in the chair. “I can’t believe she’s here. I can’t believe she’s alive.”
His voice cracks on that final word, and Silas’s expression softens slightly.
“You two need to be the ones to talk to her. Explain.” I try to adopt a no-nonsense expression, but I’m not as good at it as Gerry is. I’m too soft, too lenient. A bleeding heart.
Silas absently scratches at the scars marring his eye. “What the fuck can we even say to her?”
“The truth?” Gerry drawls sarcastically, reclining backwards on the couch.
Silas’s lips purse. “She won’t believe it.”
“She’s stronger than you think she is,” I say gently.
For a brief moment, Silas’s expression twists with something akin to jealousy before he forces his features into a mask of indifference.
“If you don’t talk to her, we will,” Gerry warns, and I nod resolutely.
I have come to care about Isabella immensely.
I care about all of my foster kids, which is why the events of the last few weeks have been troubling, to put it mildly.
A Hunter is in town…if not multiple Hunters.
Isabella turned eighteen today.
Jake is beginning to ask questions.
And Lissa and Seth…