Later that evening, while she absentmindedly braids her hair and stares out the window, she murmurs, “I wonder whether it’d be okay to spend some time with the Weres. Just to see how they are.” It occurs to me that Juno is the first of Serena’s people who hasn’t abducted her, imprisoned her, or abandoned her.
“I need to ask Lowe something,” I tell Owen the following day, when I catch him between council meetings. He’s staring at the touch screen in Father’s office with a deep frown. The bloodstains haven’t been taken care of—or maybe they have, and the near black marks are permanent mementos. “Where is he?”
“In his home, I assume.”
“When will he be back?”
“I don’t know.” He looks stressed, like he’s been running a hand through his hair. Power does not become him—not yet, at least. “The negotiations are over for now, so not for a while.”
“Oh.” My eyes widen, and Owen finally looks up.
“What?”
“Nothing. I guess I thought I’d go back with him? Since I live there.”
“Do you want to?”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t have to live there if you don’t want to.”
“What about the alliance?”
He shrugs. “Next week the council will take a formal vote on the parameters of our alliance with the Weres. In the meantime, Lowe and I see eye to eye, and neither of us is going to ask you or Gabi to serve as Collateral any longer.”
“I doubt the council will approve of—”
“The council has enabled Father to do a bunch of very illegal things, which they are now scrambling to pretend they knew nothing about, and even if they weren’t intent on covering their asses, I’m bringing them a conditional alliance with the Weres and the Humans. So yes, they’ll approve whatever I tell them to.” Okay, maybe I was wrong. Power does become him. “Gabi’s already back in Were territory. You’re free to live wherever you like, so let me ask you again: Do you want to live with Lowe?”
It’s such a baring, direct question, I can only deflect with another. “Has he said anything?”
“Like what?”
“Like, does he want me to—does he expect me to . . . Has he said anything?”
He gives me a merciless look. “I am not an agony aunt.”
I tilt my head. “You look like it, though.”
“Get the fuck out of my office.”
I step out to avoid the paperweight he’s eyeing. Then I realize I never got what I came for. I make an executive decision: retrace my steps, steal Owen’s car keys, and a few minutes later Serena and I are on the road, crossing the bridge as a pallid sun sets behind the oaks. I don’t have any diplomatic paperwork on me, but when I declare my name the Were at the checkpoint puts me through the face scanner and lets me through.
I drop Serena off at Juno’s and smile as I watch them prance into the woods in wolf form, the wind weaving ripples through their soft fur. Were company is what Serena needs right now, and I’m happy to facilitate that. Also, I’m staggeringly relieved that she’s asking for help and not shutting me out.
“Text me when you’re done chasing moles, or smelling each other’s buttholes, or whatever,” I yell after them. “I’m going to Lowe’s!”
His home is unlocked, as usual, but uncharacteristically empty. I toe off my shoes and pad up the wooden stairs, wondering if blood bags are still being automatically delivered for me. When I’ll get to see Ana again. Whether Serena and Sparkles/Sylvester will ever be reunited.
My stomach drops as I enter my room. The place looks uninhabited, more than when I first moved in. My knickknacks, books, movies, and even some clothes have been put back inside boxes.
I’m not welcome here anymore. I am being evicted.
There’s probably a reason. Lowe wouldn’t just kick you out.
But I can’t twist myself into not caring. There is a shrinking pull in my heart, and if I’m not being thrown out, I’m still being inched away. I have served my purpose, and—
“Misery?”
I turn around and my heart flips.
Lowe. Staring at me in the warm glow of the ceiling lights. Not smiling per se, but radiating happiness at seeing me. He’s wearing a leather jacket and his hands are at his sides, a bit stiff. Like he’s consciously keeping them there. “Hey.”
“Hey.” I smile. He smiles back. Then we’re silent for long enough for me to remember our last conversation alone.
Too long.
“I wasn’t sure if I could . . . I hope I’m not trespassing.”
“Trespassing?” His delight at seeing me fades into confusion, which morphs into a stern sort of understanding. “You live here.”
I don’t ask, Do I? because that would sound insecure and whiny and maybe a little passive-aggressive, and I just remembered that I’m none of these things. Not with Lowe, at least.
“I dropped Serena off, and I think it would be great if she and Ana were able to meet. It could do Serena some good, and vice versa. I doubt they’re the only two half Weres out there, but . . .”
“As far as we know.”
I nod. “Would that be okay?”
He scratches his jaw. His beard is the longest it’s ever been since I met him. What have the last few days been like for him? “I’m planning to tell Ana about her parents once Koen brings her back. I was going to save that conversation for later, but there are simply too many people who know, and I don’t want her to find out from someone else. After that, I’d love for her to meet Serena. And of course, Serena is always welcome among us. She is part of our pack, if she wants to be. I tasked Juno with checking in with her while I was gone, but I’ll arrange a meeting to explain everything now that I’m back.”
“Back?”
“We were dealing with Emery.”
My eyes widen. “Yikes?”
He lets out a soft chuckle and leans a shoulder against the door. “Indeed.”
“We kinda suspected the wrong Were, didn’t we?”
“When it came to Ana. We finally have enough evidence to hold Emery accountable for the activities of the Loyals, including an explosion at a school that happened three months ago. I went to inform her that there will be a tribunal. But when it comes to my sister . . .” His expression darkens. “It’s not her fault if I chose to believe Mick.”
“Did you find his son?”
“Yes. They’re together, heavily guarded. I’m not sure yet what I’m going to do.” He presses his lips together.
“I’m really sorry, Lowe,” I say heavily. “I know how much you trusted him.”
“Any other Were, I’d have realized that they were lying to me. But Mick . . . his scent had changed drastically. It was sour and bitter and overpowering, but I figured it was grief. That losing one’s mate and son would do that to someone.”
I take a step closer, wanting to comfort him, not quite sure how. Eventually I just repeat an utterly inadequate “I’m sorry.” I try to continue, to unspool that ball of words that weighs on my stomach so densely, but the sound dies on my lips. I’m stunted, incapable of being coherent.
“It’s not like you,” he says with a slim smile.
“What isn’t?”
“Not saying exactly what you think.”
“Right. Yeah.” A gust of irritation sweeps over me. I bounce my foot to stave it off. “It was easier, being honest with you, when I thought you were being honest with me.”
He frowns. “You can speak honestly with me, Misery. Always.”
I let out an impatient breath, then march to him, ready to attack. I only stop when I’m so close, he has to bend his neck to look me in the eye. “Why would I, though? So you can use my deepest wounds and what you know about my past to hurt me when you decide that you should push me away?”
He looks crestfallen at the memory of the things he told me, as though they hurt him as much as me. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.
“You lied,” I accuse. “You said all of that—and it was all a lie.”
He doesn’t deny it, which makes me angrier. Instead he inhales, deep and slow until his lungs are full.
“Why?” I prod. When no answers come, I lift my hand to his face. “I could force you to tell me the truth.” The flat of my thumb presses between his brows. “I could thrall you.”
His smile looks sad. “You already have, Misery.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. Then open them to ask, “Am I your mate?”