My mother lets out a scream of pure, unbridled rage and lunges at her, the knife extended.
Thirty-Seven
IZZY
My brain switches off, rationality replaced by panic.
All I can think is—I don’t want to hurt Ansel’s mom.
She lunges at me with a scream of anger, and I lift my hands up in defense. I’ll do what I need to do to protect myself, but nothing more. This woman is obviously unwell.
Before she can make contact with me, however, she’s knocked to the side. The knife slips free from her hand and slides across the floor.
Ethan jumps off of the woman immediately, his features pinched tight and his face abnormally pale.
“Mom!” Ansel races to his mother’s side and kneels beside her.
I step forward as well—instinctively—but then think better of it. Emery and Ethan move to stand on either side of me, their shoulders brushing against my own.
“Ansel? Baby?” His mother blinks wearily.
“I’m… I’m going to call an ambulance.” The nurse appears shaken, her dark skin bleached white, but Ansel shakes his head.
“No. She’s fine. Why don’t you give us a second, Shelby?” Ansel says, helping his mother into a sitting position.
Shelby looks as if she wants to argue but nods once and hurries out the door. It slams shut after her, the noise ominously loud in the sudden silence that descends.
“I’m… I’m…” Mrs. Harthorne’s lower lip begins to tremble. “I’m sorry. I don’t know…”
She absently rubs at the back of her head and slowly turns to face me once more. I expect to see blind fury in her gaze. Hatred.
I take a step back automatically, prepared to leave the room and deescalate the situation, but her next words stop me.
“You’re not Delaney, are you?” Her voice is quiet, timid almost, and wavers.
“My name is Isabella, Mrs. Harthorne,” I tell her gently. “I go to school with your son.”
“She’s my friend, Mom,” Ansel says, rubbing soothing circles on her back.
She blinks up at us, her eyes going in and out of focus, before she dips her chin once in something akin to acknowledgment.
“Friend.” She repeats the word as if it had been spoken in a foreign language, as if it’s something she’s unfamiliar with.
“Yes, Mom. Friend.” Ansel takes her arm and helps her to her feet. She sways slightly but manages to remain upright. “And these two guys are my…friends as well.”
Ansel stumbles over the word “friends” but keeps his expression blank.
“Your friends with wolves?” She tilts her head to the side curiously as she studies the twins.
Emery and Ethan both still on either side of me. I’m not even sure they’re breathing.
Ethan breaks the silence first, shuffling from foot to foot as he rubs his hands down his jeans. “I’m sorry for tackling you, ma'am. I just panicked?—”
She waves a flippant hand in the air and perches on the bed. “Wolves protect their mates.”
Every muscle in my body locks together.
What is she talking about?