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on the borders. The werewolf’s presence also means the Accords weaken somehow. That’s the Klave’s doing. It’s all—” He breaks off.

“Complicated. I know.” I feel like shifting or slipping under the cloak and becoming invisible. The loneliness I feel when human returns.

Once more, like our first time driving out here, the silence between us is heavy. Tension presses down on my shoulders. I almost feel like I’m being held underwater.

When the Victorian mansion I inherited comes into view, the sky dims. Shadows loom over the mountains. Thunder sounds in the distance, and the air is moist with coming rain.

As we pull into the driveway, a figure stands on the front porch. My stomach lurches when I realize it could be my father. As the Jeep rumbles closer, I recognize Clove’s slender figure.

I wave. “Funny that he’s here since I was hoping to find him. Remember he said he had something to show me?”

Corbin grunts as he gets out of the Jeep.

All at once, the rain pounds down. Uneasiness pools in my stomach. The grass is so long, it tangles around my ankles. A crow caws nearby. I follow its silhouette as it flies overhead then race toward the porch.

I squeal at the chilly rain soaking me through. When my feet hit the wooden deck, the scent of tweed from Clove’s jacket prompts a memory that doesn’t belong to my old math teacher. Like pushing against a rip current, I can’t place it.

Clove stands there with his arms across his chest and a grim expression aimed at Corbin. “I see you brought your watchdog,” he says.

Corbin prickles.

My wolf does too.

I try to laugh it off. Maybe Clove is grouchy because he doesn’t like the weather.

“Where’s your mother?” Clove asks.

“Hello to you too. Did you get up on the wrong side of the bed?”

He snorts. “Something like that. You need to put your wolves on a shorter leash. One of them killed recently.”

Corbin balks. “My wolves don’t kill unless threatened.”

Half of me has the mind to run back to the Jeep and grab the rest of the doughnuts as a peace offering. It’s worked before. But the rain is coming down too thick, however, it’s nothing to the tension between the two guys.

The gravity of yet another loss weighs heavily. If it weren’t for my wolf—the semblance of an anchor—I fear I’d just drift away, succumb, and not find my way back. I might sink through the floorboards of the porch, wind up in the center of the earth, or dissolve in all the tears I keep bottled inside. The weight of what feels like the ocean presses on top of me.

My voice is scratchy when I say, “There have been attacks, but it’s not us. It’s a w—”

Corbin flashes me a look. “If you’re talking about Amanda—”

“As a matter of fact, I am. She killed Tatiana, a mage and a good friend.” Anger stains Clove’s face.

Corbin just barely stops himself from staggering backward. “What are you talking about?”

“Amanda stole something from her and left her for dead.” Disgust laces Clove’s voice.

Corbin goes still. Quiet. Then his voice enters my mind. The wolf-way of communicating opens up, but sounds like a bad cell phone connection. I gather that he asks Baker for intel.

The two guys glare at each other.

Clove is edgy and isn’t the most personable guy, but I can’t bring myself to hate him the way Corbin does. Maybe it’s because Pepper has a crush on him.

“Guys, let’s go inside and talk. It’s wicked out here.”

The stained-glass rendition of a pair of fairies in a glade and surrounded by yellow flowers framed in the front door greets me. Upon entering, the distinct smell of the house, rain mixed with damp wood and mildew fills the space. I pause on the threshold, waiting for the guys.

Finished with their standoff, for now, they follow me inside.

I envision the space filled with sunlight, beaming through the windows. I picture my mother floating down the stairs and greeting my father. Then there’s me, joining them in an embrace. It’s a dust motes dancing in the air kind of poetry. Something inside me sparks. I stand there, suddenly homesick again, but not for a place. Rather, for family, belonging.

For better or worse, it replaces all the other emotions about Amanda and my magic that pile up. The spark within, my desire for that is louder for all the other noise inside. It’s the spark of my heart, solid, true, and gives me purpose.

 Feeling renewed and not interested in the guys’ nonsense, I spin. “My house. My rules. Mind your manners. Speak civilly. No fighting.”

“Yes, Alpha,” Corbin says, wearing a slight smirk.

Clove lifts an eyebrow in surprise.

“Oh, and I’m so not sharing my doughnuts.” With a flip of my hair, I turn and lead them to an old-fashioned parlor for entertaining guests. I tear the sheets from a set of gilded sofas covered in silk.

“Fancy,” Corbin says.

“Clove, I am an Alpha wolf and the daughter of Jackie and Greyson Slade. That makes me a vamp and fae as well. I’m well aware that my existence is forbidden, blah, blah, blah. I don’t care. I also don’t know if I can trust you. I certainly didn’t trust Amanda. Anyway, I didn’t know Tatiana, but I’m sorry for your loss.”

Baker’s voice comes through the wolf-way, sounding echoey like a walkie-talkie. Tatiana’s death was tragic. Evidence suggests she was killed by both a wolf and fae.

Corbin and I exchange a glance while Clove says a few things about how tragically Tatiana died.

I try the wolf-way of communicating with Corbin to cut off the growl I sense growing inside him. In fits and starts, I say, I’ve only met Clove a few times now and am not sure what to make

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