Page 40 of Bad Moon Rising

Becka stares at me out of the corner of her eyes, chewing on her bottom lip and smearing her pink lipstick.

“Are you okay?” she asks at last.

For a moment, I don’t answer, taking this time to study myself in order to give her an honest answer.

No, I don’t think I’m okay. What I witnessed was traumatizing and terrifying. I was attacked by a boy I trusted and saved by three I trust even more.

I’m not okay…but I will be. As long as I have the Bellua brothers by my side, I can weather any storm. I just need to see them, to make sure they weren’t injured in the fight, to ask them questions, to uncover all of the secrets they’ve apparently kept from me.

I’m angry, yes, but not irrationally so. I understand why they kept this a secret from me. I’m not sure I would’ve believed them even if they confessed the truth.

If werewolves exist, does that mean other monsters do as well? Vampires? Witches? Genies?

“Do you think Chase is dead?” I whisper.

I don’t know why that’s the question I choose to ask, only that I find I need that answer more than anything.

Becka swivels completely to stare at me. Her face is unreadable, a mask hewn from stone.

“Yes,” she says at last, pausing. Something flickers in her eyes too quickly for me to decipher. “I don’t think the Belluas would allow him to live, especially if he meant to harm you.” She pauses again as my heart thunders at that revelation.

I don’t know how I feel about that.

On one hand, Chase tried to hurt me.

On the other, he had been my friend for so long, I can’t help but grieve the man I thought he was. Maybe he could’ve been saved. Maybe it was just the “werewolf curse” or whatever it was making him insane.

Maybe…

Maybe…

Maybe…

“But if he died in his werewolf form, I imagine the cops would mistake him for a dead animal,” Becka continues, appearing contemplative. “If the Belluas are smart, they’ll make the crime scene look like the wolf ate Chase. Get the cops off their back.”

“Becka!” I exclaim, shocked at her crude words.

She holds her hands up innocently. “I’m just saying!” Her expression softens, and she leans forward to graze her fingers across my hand where it rests on the center console. “But seriously, Lily…I know it may not seem like it, but you’re going to be okay. Just ask the Bellua brothers for answers as soon as they’re home.”

“Thanks, Becka.” I reach forward to give her a quick hug.

“No problem, Lily-pad. Now shoo. I need to go to my room and cry for a little bit after the night I had. Attempted murder really makes me hangry.”

I laugh lightly at her words because they’re exactly what I plan to do as well.

Jumping out of the car, I wave goodbye until Becka’s white Volvo is swallowed by darkness. Then, I bounce up the porch steps and head toward my house.

The windows are dark, which surprises me. Mom and Dad always wait up for me when I stay out past ten. Did they fall asleep?

I smile softly as I picture my mom fast asleep on the sofa, a blanket strewn around her waist, and my dad collapsed on the recliner. Some old, black-and-white, Wild West movie would be playing on the television, the sound muted but the captions on.

Rubbing my hands down my arms to curb the sudden chill, I rush inside and kick the door shut behind me. My feet ache from being forced into high heels for such a long period of time. I kick off those damn things and pad on bare feet towards the kitchen, flicking on lights as I go.

“Mom? Dad?” I call, but when they don’t answer, I decide they must’ve fallen asleep.

Quickly, I pad to the fridge, pull it open, and grab out a bottle of water. My throat is unbearably dry—probably from screaming—and I know I’ll need at least twenty cups of water to feel even reasonably like myself again.

I hip-check the fridge shut and then move towards the silent living room. I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep, not with my brain replaying every damn moment of the night, so hopefully some stupid movies will allow myself to relax enough to drift off into a nightmare-less sleep.

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