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“It’s beautiful,” Bryn said, saving the moment. “He’s very talented.”

“Yes,” he replied, his voice softening. When we reached the landing on the second floor, he turned to us. “Listen, the minute Samuel has had enough of your questions, you must leave,” he said. “Is that clear?”

“Absolutely,” Bryn said. “We won’t make him talk if he doesn’t want to.”

“Alright.” Still, he was hesitant. “He can be pretty excitable, so whatever you do, don’t spook him.”

He led us to a door painted to look like the sky at sunset, with pastel-pink and purple melding together. The clouds looked similar to those painted on the front door, only less puffy.

Adam knocked on the door, then opened it. I stepped inside, and my eyes widened. It wasn’t really what I was expecting from an artist.

The room was so dark, it took my eyes a few seconds to adjust. The curtains were nailed down over the window. Samuel was taller than either of his parents but wiry and thin. He wasseventeen, but he had the haunted face of a kid who had seen too much too early in life. He paced back and forth in the middle of his room, mumbling to himself. Sketches covered his walls.

Bryn took a few steps inside while I stood near Adam by the door, trying to make myself look less large in the small room.

“Hey there, Samuel,” Bryn said. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

He didn’t respond and continued to pace.

“Samuel?” She took another cautious step forward. Though she was careful, her body language was relaxed. She looked like she knew what she was doing. “My name is Bryn. Do you remember ever seeing me around the compound? Back then, I was the only human in the village.”

Samuel’s mumbling quieted as he looked at Bryn. He still paced back and forth, but his eyes were riveted to her face. After a few seconds, he looked away again.

“Yeah, I thought you might recognize me.” She smiled. “I like your art. You’re obviously very talented.”

He didn’t visibly react to that, though I had no idea what he was thinking.

“Samuel, I’m going to ask you a few difficult questions, and I don’t want to alarm you. We’re trying to figure out what happened to you ten years ago. Could you tell me a bit about what you saw that night in the woods?”

Samuel stopped pacing and mumbling. He stood in the middle of the room, partially turned away from us.

“If you’re afraid to speak, please don’t worry. I brought my mate Night Shepherd with me.”

“Hello, Samuel,” I said. He turned his head toward me, and I felt rooted to the spot. There was so much behind that gaze, but nothing I could read.

“Night is strong enough to protect you, your parents, and the entire pack from what you saw that night,” Bryn said. “If you feel comfortable, could you tell me what took you and your friend?—”

Before she could finish, he rushed toward his wall, grabbed one of the sketches from it, and ripped it off. Then he stormed toward Bryn. My instincts pushed me to defend her, but she threw her hand back, stopping me before I could move. In my mind, I knew Samuel wasn’t a threat to Bryn—and even if he was, his body language didn’t show any bad intent—but my wolf and I were uncomfortable at his proximity to my pregnant mate.

He pushed the paper into her chest and quickly drew away, pointing at them.

“Th-the shadows,” he said, his voice wobbling and eyes watering. “Took him. Hurt him.”

Bryn glanced at the sketch, then handed it to me. The page was covered in charcoal marks, menacing shapes, and hulking figures. But other than how ominous they appeared, I couldn’t tell what the drawing was supposed to be.

“The shadows?” she asked. “Was it a monster?”

He shook his head, and his long thin hair flew around his head. “Don’t talk about it. Don’t. It’ll come back and get me, too.” He went to his bed and crawled into the far corner of it. He trembled as he pulled the blankets up to cover him.

“Samuel?” Bryn asked.

“No!” He shouted so loud the entire cabin seemed to shake. “No, no, no!” He repeated this, winding the blankets tighter around himself. His shoulders trembled under the covers, and small sobs filled the room.

Footsteps stomped up the stairs seconds before Cathy shoved the door open.

She gasped when she saw Samuel’s state. “Look what you’ve done to my boy!” She rushed inside and climbed onto the bed with him, pulling him into her arms and rocking back and forth. “Oh, get out, get out! Leave us be!”

“Let us help you, Cathy,” Bryn said evenly. “I put him in this state. I want to help make it right.”