Page 95 of Roaring Flames

She’s not my girl, no matter how badly I want her to be. I’m not even sure if we’ve ever technically been on a date. After all, our trip to the rage room and diner was…a hangout. Not a date.

Right?

All thoughts of Izzy and dates and obnoxious twins cease when we pull to a stop in front of my house.

When my father was still alive, we had been an upper-middle-class family, and that hasn’t changed with his death. He left a hefty life insurance sum behind for me and my mother.

The home is constructed out of white bricks and boasts over a dozen windows—all ranging in sizes—that stare out at a perfectly manicured lawn. Two pillars cradle an archway that leads to the front entrance. Potted plants line the walkway and dangle from hooks on either side of the door.

All of the lights are currently off, but that’s not necessarily a surprise. Mom often prefers to leave them off, especially whenshe’s feeling vulnerable. She hates the large windows—believes that there are monsters looking inside.

I once bought large blackout curtains, but that only made her more paranoid. She claimed that she would rather see the threat arrive than be surprised when it sneaks up on her.

Shelby’s car is still in the driveway, which is a good sign. It means that she didn’t need to bring my mom to the hospital.

“We can just wait out here—” Ethan begins awkwardly, but a loud crash and a startled scream interrupt him.

All of us exchange glances, then as one, we race into the house.

“Mom! Shelby!” I swivel my head from side to side as I hurry down the hallway, checking each room as I go.

The living room is empty—though I do note a broken mug on the carpeting—as is the kitchen. I take the stairs two at a time until I reach my mother’s bedroom. The door is slightly ajar.

Mom is standing on one side of the bed with Shelby on the other. Mom’s face is tear-stained, her brown cheeks tinted red. She wears a too-large sweatshirt and dirty sweatpants, her bare toes just barely sticking out of the bottom. Shivers reverberate through her as she stares at Shelby unblinkingly.

It’s only then that I notice she’s holding a knife.

Shelby hears us first and turns, relief visible on her face.

Mom spins as well, but unlike Shelby, her expression only hardens.

“You shouldn’t be home!” she screeches, brandishing her knife in the air. “You need to go away! Away! You can’t let them find you.”

“Mom. Please. Lower the knife.” I venture a tentative step into the room, my hands raised placatingly. Fear causes my heart to pound like a battering ram. I’m sure the noise is even audible from outer space. “What’s going on?”

“They’ve come for you!” More tears rain down her cheeks. “I can’t let them take you. They know. They know what you can do.”

I slyly glance at Izzy out of the corner of my eye, praying she thinks my mom’s words are nothing but nonsensical ramblings.

“Mom, please.” I take another step forward, and Ethan and Emery use the opportunity to enter the room as well.

I can tell they’re trying to appear non-threatening, but it’s hard to do. They’re both hulking men covered in tattoos.

Mom’s face drains of color. Her tears dry on her face. “You brought… You brought wolves into my house?”

Disbelief saturates her tone.

I have no idea what the hell she’s going on about this time.

Ethan and Emery both freeze and exchange a look. Izzy’s mouth parts in surprise.

“Mom, just listen. No one’s here to hurt you?—”

“You.” Mom spins towards Izzy, raw fury etched across every line of her wrinkled face. “You did this. I told you to leave my son alone. You never should’ve come back, Delaney.”

Delaney?

“My name isn’t Delaney, Mrs. Harthorne. It’s—” Izzy doesn’t get a chance to finish her sentence.

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