We took our time heading back to Cal's apartment, making up all sorts of excuses to take detours. We had coffee, stopped at a drive thru fast food restaurant, got ourselves lost in Target...the list went on. It was well into the afternoon when I glanced at my watch and realized my parents were going to kill me.

Well, ever since Cal had showed up, they had been planning to kill me. Now I was going to die slowly.

I parked the car outside the complex, the engine going still as I yanked out the keys. The car was my dad's vintage station wagon, painted a dim barf green, the windows dirtied with years of mud deposit. The back of it was filled to the brim with Home Depot items Dad had made plans to return but had never actually gotten around to, the pine air fresheners dangling from the rear view mirror the only thing keeping the musky, ancient scent away.

So it wasn't Cal's convertible, but it worked, and that was enough for me.

I jingled the keys in my fingers, glancing sideways at Cal. The smile on her face had been there since we'd left, and a part of me was confused by this, as she'd seemed so reluctant to leave my house. The other part of me knew just why she was smiling. "Should I walk you in?"

"Walk?" repeated Cal with a scoff, sinking low in her seat. "I'll be sprinting. The sun's gonna turn me into literal hot chocolate."

I grinned. "That's not funny."

"You're a liar. You're smiling."

"Whatever! Now come on," I said, tossing my door open. Cal did the same, and with a chuckle, I watched her sprint for the cover of the staircase, relief passing over her expression when she reached the shade. Still, a small tendril of smoke rose from an uncovered area of her neck. It suddenly occurred to me that this had been the first time I'd ever seen her out and about during the day—every other time I'd been out with Cal, the stars had been up. I guess I'd never thought about the reason behind it until now, though it should have been obvious.

I was a little ways behind Cal on the staircase; she reached her apartment before I did. It was just as I was rounding the landing's corner that I heard her scream, voice hoarse and terrified: "Richie!"

At the tone of her voice, my pace quickened into a run. When I reached Cal's apartment, the door was swung wide open. My eyes widened as I surveyed the mess around me: her shattered glass coffee table, broken windows, framed art torn from the walls. Even her fridge door had been removed, food items spilling out onto the floor. The whole place, once neat and organized, not a speck of dust, had been ransacked.

Worst of all was Richie.

His small form was slumped against the back wall, head lolled to the side, eyes fluttering. A wooden stake protruded from his stomach, blood spattering his shirt and the wall behind him, a gruesome mural. He looked to be holding on to whatever life—if it could be called life—that he had left.

Cal knelt before him, tears staining her cheeks. "Richie, what happened—"

He scoffed, but it turned into more of an unhealthy cough, blood spilling over his trembling lips. Sweat clung to his pallid skin, his expression twisted in pain. I came to kneel beside Cal, trying to act like the sight of him wasn't making me want to throw up. "I'll be fine...it's...not in my heart. Just...Calliope...he's—"

"He?" I questioned, no longer able to stand the broken, forced way Richie spoke. Even impaled, he was still able to level his usual murderous glare on me, like he could not wait to rip me apart. I chose to ignore this. "Who's he?"

Richie's silver-blue eyes shut, his mop of dark hair mostly obscuring them anyhow. "The...flowers..."

Cal's eyebrows twitched, then she turned, looking over her shoulder. Sitting neatly on the kitchen island, in the midst of the mess that had been made of the entire dwelling, was a bouquet of purple chrysanthemums. They were laid there so neatly in a place of such chaos, like the eye of a storm.

I stayed by Cal's side as she approached them, the horror on her face deepening the closer she became. "Only one person knows how much I love mums," she whispered to me, her fingers gently stroking the petals. "How I always thought the purples ones were the prettiest."

Her hands went rigid, her whole body freezing in realization.

Her voice was drenched with fear. "He's found me."

"Who?"

"Theo, hide! There's a closet, right there—"

I gripped her arm, tugging her to me, frowning into her face. "Are you joking? It's Ethan, isn't it? As if I'm leaving you alone with him!"

"Theo, if you care as much as you say you do, you'll do this for me. Now hide!" She tore my hand from her arm, shoving me in the direction of the hall closet. All I could do was give her one more stunned look before I shimmied myself in between the winter coats, pulling the door shut.

There was never a time that I wished for a more prominent wolf side than I did now. If I had the strength, the stamina, the skill that the rest of my family naturally claimed, I wouldn't have to hide in the closet while Cal stared down her worst nightmare. After all, I had promised her I wouldn't let Ethan touch her. I couldn't break her trust now.

I heard a voice, sudden in the former silence: "I'm disappointed, Cal. You haven't called me. All these years, and not a word from you."

It was Ethan.

Until then, I'd been hoping Cal was wrong, somehow, but when I recognized the honeyed tone of his words, any remaining hope within me evaporated.

I heard a grunt of discomfort, the noise raising the hairs on the back of my neck. Unable to fight the anxiety rising within me, I took in a shuddering breath and nudged the door open. Golden light from the living room spilled into the dark I was closed in; I squinted through the crack between the frame and the door, the curls down Cal's back my only view. Her hands were fists at her sides, and even without seeing the expression on her face, this was enough to convince me of her fear.

"Did you ever think maybe I didn't want to see you?" Cal shot back. She gave a flippant snort. "And now you've brought what—some hostage with you? Ethan, what is this?"

My heart skipped a beat at the word hostage. Seeing what he'd done to Richie had been more than enough to convince me he was merciless.

"I don't know if you're aware, but you're a very valuable asset. The humans are fascinated with you—and yeah, maybe I didn't want to have to hunt you down like this, but the pay's amazing."

I inched the door open further, hoping to broaden my view. A million questions swam in my head, so many I was afraid my head was going to burst. He'd said someone important was looking for her, but who? The humans?

Cal's voice trembled with unease. "What are you talking about?"

"Science. Research. It's what humans are all about these days," Ethan went on. I could see his arm, clothed in a dark dress shirt, his hands holding on to something I couldn't see from my vantage point. The grunts and squeals of discomfort continued, though it was obvious neither Cal nor Ethan were making the noises. "And you—you, me, even the werewolves—are the newest developments. They want to know what makes us different, and you're going to be their next test subject."

When Cal didn't say anything in return, Ethan just gave a chuckle and went on. "Don't worry. The agency I work for very humane. You'll be treated well."

I heard Cal give a huff of disagreement, folding her arms. "Wow. You left the clan with me, sure, but I'd never expect you to become the humans' dog, Ethan."

"I get money and blood in return. I never go hungry, unlike you, Callie."

Cal clicked her teeth. "What if I refuse to come with you?"

I could feel the tension between them, even if I wasn't in the room. I inched the door open a bit further, and felt all breath leave my chest.

The little grunts and squeals had been coming from Ethan's hostage. He held the boy tightly against his chest, his red-haired head tipped to the side so that his freckled neck was exposed and vulnerable.

Reese.

No.

I wanted to know he'd gotten him. I wanted to know how he'd known he hung out with me. I wanted to know what the heck he was going to do with him. Sure, upon meeting the kid I had punched him in the face, but that was the thing. I was the only person allowed to hurt Reese.

"You've never seen this kid before, right?" Ethan began. My view broadened, I could see the sadistic smile that brought dimples to his cheeks, his black eyes shimmering with mischief. "Of course not. He looks average. Believe it or not, this guy's very important to that werewolf of yours. He wouldn't be so happy with you if you let his friend die, now would he?"

Cal's voice dripped with wrath. "Ethan, you won't—"

"If you come with me to the agency, I'll let little ginger snap go. If not, he's dead meat. I haven't had my fill for the day yet, and boy, does he smell scrumptious," Ethan interrupted, as if she hadn't spoken at all. His fangs retracted as he bent towards Reese's carotid, the tip of them just brushing the skin. Reese gave another squeal.

"Truth is," Ethan went on, raking a hand though his densely curled hair, "I missed you. We were in love once. You were my everything. Whatever happened to that?"

"Whatever happened? You lied to me, deceived me, ruined everything for me! So don't come back here like you're innocent!" Cal exploded, her arms going up in the air. The room fell into a certain quietude again, only the echoes of Ethan's laugh to fill it.

Then, Cal spoke.

"I'm not going with you. Not now. Not ever. Tell the humans to get themselves another lab rat."

Ethan cocked his head, then shrugged, clutching Reese to him again. His fangs scraped the side of his neck, blood beginning a slow but definite trickle to his shirt collar.

I sprang from my hiding place .

Maybe it was a dumb idea, but I couldn't stay there, not when both Reese and Cal were in danger. They were the two people who had both showed me I wasn't as alone as I was thought, and I wasn't letting a thing happen to them.

Cal gave a yelp, but I shoved her to the side, tackling Ethan to the ground.

He stared up at me, the surprise on his face only lasting for a brief moment before it flickered away. Instead, his mouth opened in a toothy grin, eyes creasing. I didn't care that he was at least a century older than me—maybe more, who knows—or that he had an unfairly sharp jawline or that he was way stronger than me. He wasn't escaping. "My, my, I was wondering if you'd come out to play. Well? Are you having fun?"

"How the hell did you find Cal? Reese?" I hissed, gripping his neck in my fist, using all my strength. He merely smiled up at me, addressing me through his ink-black eyelashes. "Who do you work for?"

"If you think an interrogation is going to intimidate me, you're awfully wrong," said Ethan. He heaved a long sigh. "Man. You're boring me, wolf."

With that, he gave another hearty laugh and rolled, my grip falling away from his neck. I could barely give so much as a yelp before he had my shirt in his fist. I tried in vain to free myself, but by the time he knocked his forehead into mine, it was too late.

My consciousness swayed, but I stayed on my feet, my head admittedly spinning. I gave a cough. "Why don't you fight back a little more?" taunted Ethan, then tossed me at the coffee table.

His strength was immeasurable. I was flying for a brief, peaceful moment, before my body slammed into the glass. It shattered underneath me, my back meeting the cold, wooden floors, glass shards burying themselves in my skin. I groaned, pain coursing through every single inch of my body. Blood dripped down my forehead, blurring my vision.

I could see him coming towards me, his fangs out, his eyes a bright red. "I'm sorry about this," he said, "but whoever gets in my way has to be disposed of."

I pushed through the bleariness of my thoughts, trying to search for anything to defend myself with. I looked for Cal, but couldn't find her, as I didn't seem to be able to swivel my head too much. Ethan was just a few inches away—when my eyes found it.

The leg off the coffee table, which had been crushed when I'd catapulted into it, laid on the ground beside me. Broken, its jagged wooden edges reached for the sky.

Ethan was here.

He knelt before me. "Now to get this over with—" He stopped, the pleasure on his face washing away, replaced with something more like surprise and...fear. His eyes dropped, and I realized all at once what he was looking at—my birthmark, left open by my slightly lifted shirt, which had shifted upwards from the fall. The flames licked at my ribs, dark and bold against my skin. "You..." Ethan said. "Theodore Dacosta. Theodore Dacosta. You're the one! The—"

I took advantage of his distraction, my hand scrambling for the broken leg. Without any further hesitation, I gave a grunt of effort and drove it through his chest.

He sputtered, blood pouring over his lips, his eyes going wide. The warm bronze color of his skin drained to a sickening blue, and he fell to the side, unmoving.

My lungs felt tight, exhausted. It was too hard to get air in.

I managed to get to my feet, blood still smeared across my forehead, the glass in my back causing a little jolt of pain with each step I took. What hurt most of all, however, weren't the physical things. They were the unanswered questions—how Reese had ended up here, who Ethan worked for, what he had meant when he had said I was the one.

I found Cal on the floor near the hall closet I'd come out of. She was on her hands and knees, her head hung, curtain of black-brown hair brushing the floor.

I knelt before her, uneasy. "Cal?"

She wrapped her arms around me. It wasn't a slow or polite gesture. One moment her arms weren't there and the next they were. She held me against her, her head buried in my shoulder.

Tears stained my shoulders, and they weren't my own. With a sigh, I returned the embrace, resting my head on hers. "It's okay. It's all okay now."

"Theo?"

I frowned at the despair in her voice. "Yeah?"

"Please don't let me go."