Page 61 of Shifter Marked and Claimed

“Fine.”

I went to the kitchen to help. Meal prep was mundane, but it was something to do. With my attention on the onion tearing my eyes, I missed half of what the news anchor said until Zoe swore.

“I think that was Jessica.”

I wiped my eyes with my arms and looked up at the broadcast. The news anchor was doing his best sad expression as he gave the details about a woman beaten then stabbed in her home. Then he asked that anyone with news regarding the incident call a hotline they had set up. They displayed a picture of a girl along with a number to call.

It was Jessica’s senior picture.

“Shit,” I breathed.

Zoe started crying, and I quickly hugged her.

“It can’t be related,” I said. “Killing Jessica doesn’t make any sense. Joey wanted to sell us. Why would he kill her instead of taking and selling her, too?”

“If he’s okay with selling us, his own family, as sex slaves, why would you think he wouldn’t be capable of killing?”

And that was the problem. I did think he was willing to kill a person. That was why we ran. But he was too smart to needlessly kill when he could have made a profit.

Taking a slow, deep breath, I hugged Zoe until she stopped shaking.

“Why don’t you go turn the channel? I’ll sauté the onions and garlic.”

She moved toward the living room, and I focused on the task at hand, glad I had the onion as an excuse for my tears. Jessica and I had been close. She’d checked in on me often after Dad had gotten sick. Once he’d passed, though, I’d stopped answering her. There’d been bills and calls to make on top of funeral arrangements.

Numb with grief, I’d been relieved when Joey had shown up and offered to help. He’d acted like he cared and had handled things. The hushed phone calls hadn’t seemed out of place. But, things had gone downhill so fast when I’d woken up to him taking pictures of Zoe and me.

Stopping that memory in its tracks, I looked up as Zoe returned to the kitchen.

“Do you want me to finish that?” she asked. “You look like that crackhead in the sewer.”

“Ha-ha. And no, I don’t need you to take over for me. I’m almost done.”

“Chopping. I thought you’d be on to the cooking part right now.”

“Some days, I wish I would have left you in the sewer.”

She smirked at me, knowing full well I didn’t mean a word of it.

“I still dream we’re back there,” she said, adding oil to the pan. “It’s weird. I’m usually more afraid in the dream than I was at the time.”

“Maybe because you now know what might have been in the sewer with us.”

“I’ve been reading those books, too, and I know humans are the only species dumb enough to hide in sewers. Even trolls and goblins don’t go there. Well, a goblin might, but only if there’s a clog. We should get a goblin.”

“No way. It would need to live with us, and they don’t need as much sleep as we do. What do you think it’s going to be doing at night while we’re sleeping?”

“Cleaning, hopefully.”

“We’re not that messy. It’ll get bored like you do, and we’ll be the entertainment. The idea of someone watching me while I sleep is creepy.”

She sighed and set aside the spoon she was using to stir.

“Are we ever going to talk about what happened?”

My stomach twisted in fear and worry.

“What do you mean? We can talk about whatever, whenever. Is there something you didn’t tell me? Did Joey touch you?”

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