Page 38 of The Weakest Wolf

My eyes go to said bed sheet, lying in a soggy ball in the corner of my room.

Why did you get it for me?

That was almost the behavior of someone who cared. Maybe.

I shake my head to dislodge thoughts that don’t make any sense, and return to the matter at hand. The thing that should be my focus, at least for the short term.

“I have to do laundry today,” I murmur, already dreading it with every fiber of my being.

I’ve put it off for as long as I can, but I didn’t expect to run out of clean clothes before I’d kill Bowen. Which means I have to risk the laundry cabin.

And Tera.

She’s not so bad on her own. The problem is that she’s never alone. Beating the crap out of me is going to get her a lot of attention, and there’s nothing that woman loves more.

Then I remember Jared and Jaxon’s mom, Erin. If Tera excels in spite, then Erin is the grandmaster.

I could just wash my clothes in the sink?

One glance at the tiny kitchenette confirms what I already know. There’s no way I’m getting the sheet in a sink so small that I can just about wash a plate in.

And then there’s the issue of drying. If I don’t want to be stuck with wet clothes for however long it takes me to work up the courage to go after Bowen, then I’m going to need to use the dryer.

Which means the laundry cabin.

Knowing I’m just delaying the inevitable, I get up so I can slip into my shorts and the same pink shirt I’m trying desperately not to think about how many days in a row I’ve worn already. Once I’ve dressed, I head for my small pile of dirty laundry.

If I can get there early enough, I can steal someone's t-shirt from the dryer to wear while I wash what I’m wearing now.

Halfway there, I stop.

Galen must’ve yanked my sheet off my bed since I had to pick up my pillow off the floor when I eventually left the bathroom.

I turn back to my bed with the exposed mattress.

He couldn’t have known what I’m hiding underneath, but I should check. Just in case. So I return to the bed and lift the mattress from the wooden bedframe.

For the longest time, I don’t understand why I’m not seeing my broken necklace.

I lift the mattress higher, but that doesn’t change anything. My necklace isn’t there. Nothing is.

“It doesn’t make sense,” I mutter.

The longer I stand there, the more surreal it all feels. I start thinking that maybe I’m not awake. That I’m still dreaming—or stuck in a nightmare—because it should be there. Only it isn’t.

Panic slowly invades my mind.

My heart beats a little harder, my breath comes a little faster. I try to slow it down, but it doesn’t help.

It’s here. It has to be.

I shove the mattress to one side of the room and drop to my knees. The only thing under the bed is dust.

The sound of my heartbeat fills my head.

I still don’t believe it.

My mom’s necklace. The only thing I have left of her. The only picture of her in the world.

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