Page 24 of Wolf's Whisper

“Onyx,” she murmurs, her tone shifting to something deeper, something more serious. “You already are.”

Those words hit me square in the chest, and for a moment, all I could do was sit there, clutching the phone like it was the only thing tethering me to reality. Janelle doesn’t know it, but she’s breaking down walls I didn’t even realize I still had up.

Chapter Thirteen

Janelle

After our talk three nights ago, I haven’t seen Wolf. Tank has been here and told me she was sent on a run but would be back soon. She has managed to send me a few messages but mentioned that communication may be limited for her. I’m not worried about the status of her and I, but more about her safety.

I’ve been trying not to overthink it. I have. But every time my phone buzzes, my heart leaps into my throat. I know it’s ridiculous, and she told me she’d be back soon and she was safe, so I believe her. Still, the days feel longer without her around. Suddenly, my thoughts are interrupted by Abel yelling.

“Mom! Chloe’s trying to flush her Barbies down the toilet again!” Abel’s voice echoes through the apartment like a fire alarm.

I groan, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Coming!” I shout back, already bracing myself for whatever chaos awaits me in the bathroom.

When I arrive, Chloe proudly stands on her tiptoes, with Barbie in one hand and the toilet lid in the other. Abel is hovering nearby, looking equally annoyed and smug because he gets to play the role of tattletale hero. Dillon is leaning against the doorframe, munching on an apple like this is some kind of spectator sport.

“Chloe Grace Pierce,” I say, using my best mom voice. “What are you doing?”

“She wanted to go swimming,” Chloe says matter-of-factly, holding up Barbie like she’s about to give a TED Talk on aquatic toys.

“Swimming?” I repeat, crossing my arms. “In the toilet?”

Chloe nods enthusiastically. “She said she’s a mermaid princess, and mermaids need water!”

I sigh, trying not to laugh because I know that will only encourage her. “Sweetheart, the toilet is not a swimming pool. If Barbie wants to swim, we’ll set up the bathtub later, okay?”

Chloe pouts, her big brown eyes staring at me with the innocence only a five-year-old can pull off. “But the toilet’s right here.”

“And it’s also where germs live,” I say firmly, taking Barbie from her little hand and closing the toilet lid with finality. “No more toilet swimming, got it?”

“Fine,” she says dramatically, stomping toward her room as if I’ve ruined her entire day.

Abel smirks and gives me a thumbs-up. “Good save, Mom.”

“Thanks for the heads-up,” I reply dryly, ruffling his hair as he ducks away. “You okay, Dilly?” I ask, leaning against the door frame now that the Barbie crisis seems to be resolved.

He shrugs and says, “Yeah. Just waiting for the next episode. Chloe’s kinda funny.”

I laugh despite myself. “She is. But let’s try not to encourage her toilet antics, okay?”

“Deal,” Dillon says, holding up his pinky for a pinky promise. I loop mine around his and shake it before sending him off to his bedroom.

As I walk down the stairs, suddenly the front door opens, and Tank is standing there with a murderous look.

“Tank?” I ask, my voice cautious as I step closer. “What’s going on? Is it Onyx?”

He shakes his head, his jaw tight and fists clenched. “No, Wolf’s fine,” he says gruffly, but an edge to his tone makes my stomach knot. “It’s your damn ex.”

My heart drops into my stomach. “What did he do now?”

Tank reaches into the pocket of his leather vest and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper. He hands it to me without a word, his eyes blazing with barely contained fury.

I unfold it with shaking hands, only to find a crude drawing—a stick figure family labeled with our names: me, Abel, Dillon, Chloe. But there’s another figure looming over us, holding what looks like a knife. It’s labeled simply “Daddy.”

“Oh my God,” I breathe, my knees threatening to give out.

Tank catches me by the elbow before I can collapse and steadies me with a firm grip. “You need to sit down,” he says, his voice softer now but still carrying that unyielding edge of protectiveness.

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