The bell over the café door gave a soft chime as I stepped inside, the scent of roasted beans and faint vanilla cutting through the cold that followed me through the door. It was an old place, the kind of place where no one asked questions and just busy enough to blend into a crowd. Everyone was just a customer, in one minute, and out the next, eating quick meals in the few short minutes of silence. Perfect for people trying not to be seen.

  I hadn’t even made it three steps past the door when it opened again behind me. Jane slipped in quickly, head down, hood drawn up over her face. She paused just inside, eyes sweeping the room before finding mine. Her strong shoulders eased as we connected eyes, but she slowly found tension again. Her intimidating frame and stance were evident in the way she carried herself, even when she was trying not to be seen.

  “Hey,” I said quietly, the start of our secret rendezvous.

  “Hey.” It came out tight, clipped. She looked over her shoulder once more before pulling her hood back. She didn’t want us to be seen together. Her shoulder-length black hair spilled out from the hood as she lowered her guard and entered the café with me.

  “Back corner,” I murmured, motioning her toward the small booth far from any of the windows.

  She followed without a word. We both knew what this was.

  I took the side facing the door. She sat across from me, hands clasped on the tabletop, fingers already digging into each other. The tension between us wasn’t ours… not really. It was what brought us here. Frank, and the fact that we were both keeping this from him.

  The waitress drifted over and took our order: two coffees, nothing else. She disappeared just as quickly with the small paper pad. Jane didn’t even glance at her as she left. She leaned forward the second we were alone, voice low and rough.

  “He used it again. I found an empty vial in an old toolbox next to the shed. There was a yellow-tinged residue, like you said. He got rid of it later… I think he knows I saw it, but is hoping I didn’t know what it was.”

  “He doesn’t suspect you know, does he?”

  Jane shook her head simply, no concern about that. “No. He has no idea that I know. I’ve been trying to act oblivious… but the signs are everywhere now.”

  I exhaled slowly, fighting back the familiar sting of disappointment. “Hunter’s Breath…” I shook my head, more at myself than anything. “He didn’t say anything about seeing Clive directly?” I asked.

  “No, but he’s rattled. I can see it in the way he talks, the way he paces in the yard around his bonfire. He hears that bastard’s name and it’s like he’s twenty again.” She shook her head, angry and scared all at once.

  Her straight black hair framed her tanned face in a way that almost cloaked her frustrated eyes. It made her look more animalistic than I expected. “Hunter’s Breath makes him reckless, Carter. You know that. It strips all the control away and leaves nothing but instinct and rage… With Clive back in town, doing what he’s doing… Frank’s just going to keep using.”

  I stared down at the table. “He’s using… not just a little, like we thought, but he’s in it now. It reminds me of when he was younger… when he was on it before. He needs it… to deal with a threat he has deemed all this necessary for; for the fight he thinks is coming.”

  Jane looked up, eyes sharp and pained. “That’s pointless…” she said it with a huff of anger, obviously pissed that Frank was even moving in this direction. Her words made me think that she saw this as one big misunderstanding or error in Frank’s judgment.

  Her words rattled my train of thought. “What do you mean?”

  A couple walked in, laughing softly as they made their way to the counter, and it pulled Jane out of whatever spiral she’d been digging herself into. She shifted slightly, shoulders squaring as though bracing for something.

  “Clive came to try and get me to join his pack. I’m sure Frank told you…”

  “Sort of,” I muttered.

  “Well, a move like that is done only one way. Clive had to challenge me to a fight. Winner takes all, kind of thing,” she said it like it was nothing. Barely even shrugged.

  My eyes widened before the words even formed. “Fuck.” It came out sharper than I intended; laced with all the anger and disbelief clawing through my chest.

  Of course, Frank was spiraling. Jane would have to fight Clive alone to make him back off. I felt my mind go through what Frank was probably going through. Fear for Jane, and what it would mean if she lost to Clive… and he took over her pack… and her.

  Her gaze flicked around as another group entered the café, then back to me. “It’s not as big a deal as you probably think,” she said quickly, trying to flatten the edges of my concern.

  “Jane…” I leaned in, lowering my voice to a whisper. “Clive is… he’s fucking strong. Frank might’ve gotten the jump on him before, but if Clive had time to prepare… and Sam wasn’t there to make sure he stayed down… Frank would be dead. Clive’s dangerous…”

  “It’s done, Carter.” She cut me off with quiet finality. Not because the decision had been made, but because the fight had already happened.

  “We already fought out on my property… twice. He lost… twice.”

  She didn’t sound proud. Didn’t even sound relieved. It was just a fact, dropped between us like a stone.

  It took a full heartbeat for my brain to line up with my mouth. “Twice… you beat him twice?”

  Jane’s brow rose, offended for a split second. “Geez, Carter… have some fucking faith. How long have we known each other?”

  “Sorry, Jane.” I rubbed at the back of my neck, genuinely ashamed. “This isn’t exactly my area. I fight supernaturals with human methods. I’m not really an expert on your side. Plus, with everything that’s been happening… I just worry about you… and my brother, that’s all.”

  She let out a small huff that might’ve been a laugh and shook her head. “It’s okay, Carter. And you’re right, Clive is strong. Normally, your worries would make sense. But Clive is also really slow.” She clicked her tongue. “Plus, the first fight was a few days after the full moon. I think he figured I’d be drained. That I wouldn’t be able to call on all my strength… and underestimated me.” She raised her eyes to mine, calm, resolute. “It wasn’t hard to beat him… either time.”

  We sat quietly for a moment as another pair came in, murmuring to each other as they stepped up to order. For a moment, the clatter of cups and hiss of steamed milk drowned us out completely. Then Jane spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “He’ll come again.” The way she said it wasn’t dramatic, but it held a fear that clouded her eyes. It wasn't fear of Clive… I knew that for certain.

  I nodded, understanding exactly what she meant. The way she said it wasn’t about fear for the fight with Clive… but how much further it would push Frank. It was inevitable, and Jane and I both could feel it like a heartbeat under the floorboards of this café. Like Frank’s life slowly beating away as the taint of Hunter’s Breath won out. The taint that he kept exposing himself to in preparation for the moment, the inevitable clash with Clive, came to a head.

  “Frank’s worried that if Clive keeps coming, he’ll win eventually,” I muttered.

  Jane didn’t speak right away, but the hard, teary-eyed look on her face told me she understood the stakes. It wasn’t her own safety she was worried about. “I can hear the changes inside him. The way his heart beats harder than yours, than anyone in this fucking place,” she said as a tear ran down her face. She threw her hands up slightly, like she didn’t know what to do. “His body is running hotter, more strained… more… corrosive. Humans aren’t meant for that. I’m no hunter… I don’t know what that plant was meant for, but it’s not meant for long-term consumption.”

  I knew she wanted to just confront Frank, but she was conflicted. Frank and Jane’s relationship was… strange. I think she felt that she owed him so much after all the years of keeping him out of her life, losing all that time. I think she just didn’t understand what the best thing to do was. Not to mention, she had her whole pack she was in charge of, and now Clive was pushing his weight around, causing problems. She was overwhelmed… and just needed help.

  She leaned back and let out a shaky breath, not holding her tears in anymore, letting them fall freely as she continued to talk. “That’s why I called you. I don’t think he’ll listen to me. Not about this… he just sees red when Clive is involved, and he doesn’t understand the pack dynamics that will have Clive alone and weak if he continues like he is. But maybe he’ll listen to you.”

  Guilt twisted in my chest as I watched her struggle through her thoughts. I had to look away for a second, gritting my teeth as one of the strongest people I knew broke down about my big brother’s problem.

  If there is one thing I could say about Jane, through all the years, through all the struggles and conflicts, Jane was one of the strongest. Within her family, she rose to the position of Alpha, not through the bloodline of her father, but because she was strong, mentally and physically. She held things together on that side of the family that I wasn't aware of. She had to do things that made no sense to me. She maintained her cursed family in ways I could never understand… and to see her breaking down like this… it was telling. She was scared for Frank.

  “Frank’s my brother… and I love him. We’ve had this talk with him. He made promises, Jane. We have some things going on, too, and he knows about them. He knows how serious it might be… and he said he’d get off that shit. But if he’s already gone back to it…” I dragged a hand over my mouth, voice dropping. “Jane… what if he doesn’t want to listen? What if he’s already hooked… past the point of choosing to stop?”

  Her fingers clenched together on the table; for just a moment, her lips trembled uncontrollably as she fought against completely breaking. It was the thought of Frank going through something so internal that he was lying and changing before our very eyes. He was turning into a Frank we didn’t recognize. Finally, she gathered her words and her resolve.

  “Then we make him… before it’s too late.” She swallowed hard, and for the first time, I heard the fear behind her words. “I can’t lose him again. We spent so much damn time apart… and that was my fault. I can’t lose him to this.”

  Before I could respond, the waitress reappeared. We both straightened instantly, backs stiff and hands sliding back from each other as though burned. She set down the coffees and left without a word. We didn’t touch them. We sat there in silence, waiting for her footsteps to fade toward the kitchen. Only when the door swung shut did Jane speak again.

  “Clive is a non-issue,” she said finally. There was a sudden confidence in her tone, strong enough that it didn’t feel like bravado. “Some of his pack have already disbanded. They’ve come to me… sworn themselves to my pack by death-oath.”

  I blinked. “Werebears?”

  “No. They’re not all bears. His ‘pack’ was made of whatever he could pull in. Some werewolves, some strays, things like me… and things stranger. The werebears are too stupid and stubborn to bend. They don’t see his two failed attempts as actual losses. But two wolf strays saw him lose and came to me immediately after. They swore allegiance to the pack and to die if they ever betrayed me. They felt the power of our family… and they wanted in. Three others didn’t want either of us. They just… bolted.” She said it without care.

  I leaned forward. “Then why the hell is he still pushing? Why come back if he knows he can’t win, and you don’t want anything to do with him?”

  Jane’s eyes lifted to mine, and for a moment, they were flat and cold. “Because he thinks we all need to be part of one massive pack. That something bad is coming, and we need to gather everyone with teeth and claws before it gets here.”

  I sat back slowly, that chill climbing the back of my neck. “Frank said something like that. When he told me Clive showed up and talked to him initially… he said Clive told him something was coming up from below.” I hesitated, a flicker of Frank’s face crossing my mind… his eyes when he said it. “Frank tried to play it off, but… I think he believed him. He was just more focused on getting him away from you… forcing him out of the area. That’s why he brought Sam… he wanted to make sure they hurt them that night.”

  Jane didn’t respond right away. Instead, she lifted her coffee and drank half of it in one go like it was medicine. Then she placed the cup down, exhaled through her nose, and shook her head.

  “I think… when he heard that,” she said softly. “Maybe he did believe it. And then he used the Breath. The fear probably grew teeth. Turned into something bigger in his head. Something he decided he had to fight on his own.” She pressed her palms together, voice raw. “He probably thinks if he’s strong enough… waiting in the dark behind everyone… that he’ll be able to stop whatever’s coming before it reaches any of us.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Her words landed hard and heavy because she didn’t know how dead on she really was. That was exactly how it felt when I used Hunter’s Breath. That ugly rush in your veins, telling you that if you just pushed a little harder, if you could stay that strong all the time, nothing could hurt the people you loved. Nothing could take them from you. Especially not something crawling up from below that we knew how to hunt.

  I closed my eyes for a moment and let out a slow breath. “Then we don’t let him keep taking it,” I said finally, voice low and steady. “We get ahead of him. Before he kills himself trying to save us.”

  Jane nodded, her eyes glistening just slightly before she blinked the emotion away. “Thank you… But how?”

  I reached across the table and rested my hand over hers for one brief second. “We’ll get him to the house… use the cell. We’ll lock him inside… make him quit cold turkey. Keep him inside until we know it's all out of his system.”

  She squeezed my fingers once before pulling her hand away. She shed another tear at the thought of having to do this to Frank, but we both knew it was necessary… with Frank lying to everyone, using in secret… we didn’t have many options left.

  The coffee between us had already gone lukewarm. A few quiet minutes slipped by; just the muted clatter of dishes behind the counter and the faint hum of conversation from the other tables. I kept staring at the coffee, feeling it grow colder each second, wondering how the hell I was supposed to feel about doing this to Frank… or Frank forcing my hand.

  Eventually, Jane broke the silence. “What did you mean when you said you have things going on? Frank hasn’t told me anything.”

  I wasn’t surprised. If he was still using, the last thing he’d want to do is drag our problems into the open, especially not in front of Jane, after part of our problems was why he had promised to stop using Hunter’s Breath.

  I exhaled slowly. “Yeah. I figured he didn’t say anything. It’s… another problem we didn’t want to put on you. Not yet… not even sure what it is yet… if anything.”

  Jane lifted an eyebrow but didn’t push. She waited.

  I leaned forward a little, lowering my voice. “Sam gets these visions… from his… whatever-you-want-to-call-’em.” I didn’t have to explain too much, as Jane knew the same rough details everyone else knew about our mysterious friend. “It wasn’t like the other visions he’d gotten… at least I don’t think. He saw Patrick Wicklow with Peter Grimwood… together.”

  Jane’s dark, animal eyes widened immediately. “Patrick? What the hell would he be doing with Peter?” She had to restrain her voice immediately at the abrupt outburst of her words.

  “That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” I rubbed a hand over my face. “Boiled down to the simplest,” I prepared to info dump. “According to Sam… Peter broke into Autumn’s dorm room. Killed her roommate and took a green hairbrush. He didn’t know what the hell that meant… he just saw Peter give it to Patrick.”

  Jane’s lips parted, stunned into silence. I kept going before she could form the obvious questions we all had that knew about this.

  “And now Autumn’s acting different… has been for a while. She told Sam she didn’t want him in her life anymore… so they’re kind of… over, I guess. I’m not sure how close they were exactly… I never really wanted them together, but… this life… you know. We just wanted her happy…” I swallowed. “We’re worried that whatever Peter did in her dorm room… whatever he handed to Patrick in that brush… might have something more to it… may still linger after his death. Maybe it’s affecting her somehow. Changing her...”

  Jane sat back slowly, like the weight of it all physically pushed her into the seat. “Sam and Autumn…” she murmured, unbelief on her breath. “So you think Patrick… or something Patrick has… is influencing Autumn?”

  “I don’t know,” I said honestly. “But something’s off, and Sam didn’t want to admit it, but he thinks the timing isn’t a coincidence with her telling him to go away. He was… reluctant,” I struggled to find the right word. “Reluctant to say that her decision to cast him off wasn't her own. I think he feels… weird about making this claim, like we wouldn’t believe him. But… he isn’t taking it lightly… and neither do I.”

  Jane was quiet for a long moment. Then her gaze softened… almost sympathetic. “Does Eleanor know?”

  “As much as I do,” I said, shaking my head. “She’s spoken with Shelta, and we have a plan to get to the center of this. We’re going to confront them both… all of us. Corner Patrick and tell him what we know… see how he responds; and how Autumn responds.”

  “Carter, that’s,” She stopped herself, exhaled, then said more gently, “That’s a lot to carry on your own. Why haven’t you reached out yet?”

  I gave a weak shrug. “Feels like that’s all any of us are doing right now. Carrying things alone. I didn’t know the full scoop about Frank until you told me something was off, then Sam straight-up admitted to helping Frank attack Clive and watch him use the Breath again. Now all this with you and Clive… I haven’t even processed what Sam’s doing. Everyone feels separate right now. It’s all just happening so fast after finally getting rid of Peter. It’s like whiplash… I haven’t gotten over that yet, but now there's all this new shit.”

  She nodded, looking down into her coffee, seeing her own reflection in it. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “I know the feeling.” Jane traced her finger absently along the rim of her cup before glancing back up in realization at what I had said. “And… Sam? What’s he doing now?”

  The question caught me a little off guard, not because she shouldn’t ask, but because I’d been trying so hard not to think about it. The concepts of the things he had said were… foundation-shaking.

  “He went down into the pits,” I said quietly. “Beneath the city.”

  Jane’s brows knit together. “By himself?”

  “No. Charles went with him.” I hesitated before adding, “So did Alex.”

  Jane let out a slow breath, her expression tightening with something between concern and unease. “He trusts her?”

  “I don’t know… I guess. Martin told me they have been interacting more,” I said, even though I still wasn’t entirely sure why. “And Charles seems to know more about what’s down there than anyone else we know. Sam thinks there might be answers beneath the city. Something he’s looking for… I honestly don’t know too much.” I lied.

  She didn’t speak for a moment. Just stared at me like she was trying to puzzle out the part I wasn’t saying.

  I kept my face still and held her gaze. There were things Sam had told me… things I could barely even wrap my head around. Words like Primeval and Death; not death in the sense of dying, but Death as in a figure. The entity that haunted his existence was the fucking Grim Reaper. That was the bomb he had dropped on me in the silence of Martin’s bar as we tried to locate Charles. Those truths were too heavy to drop into a quiet café in the middle of St. Louis, in the daytime no less. I couldn’t tell Jane this yet… not with everything else going on. This was a nighttime conversation… meant to be had over some drinks, when the brain was numbed.

  Jane nodded slowly. “That sounds like Sam.”

  “Yeah,” I said softly. “It does. He operates on a different wavelength than we do… I think.”

  “Yeah,” was all Jane said, but I could tell that she wholeheartedly agreed.

  For a moment, everything went quiet again. The murmur of voices in the coffee shop faded into the background, and all I could feel was the crushing truth of it; we were all fighting our own battles: Sam underneath the city, Frank spiraling into Hunter’s Breath, Autumn possibly slipping further into something none of us could name. And here we were, sitting in a quiet booth, pretending a couple of cups of coffee could keep the world from caving in, and lead Frank back from the edge he was walking toward.

  “We’ll handle it,” I said suddenly, like she could hear my thoughts. “All of it. One thing at a time.”

  Jane managed a small, tired smile. “Yeah. One at a time.”

  By the time I made it back home, the afternoon light had already started bleeding into a muted gray with the winter theme playing out across the city. The house was quiet… too quiet. It was like the world knew what was coming this evening. Even the burning fireplace didn’t feel comforting with what was to come.

  I stepped into the living room and found Eleanor sitting on the edge of the couch, arms folded tightly across her chest. Shelta and Sarah Wicklow were in the armchairs opposite her, whispering low to one another until they heard me come in.

  Eleanor lifted her head immediately, her long, dark hair spilling over her right shoulder. Her dark brown eyes were sharp, searching. “Well?”

  “Jane and I talked,” I said, shrugging off my coat. “We have a plan… but it’s not going to be pretty. But she’s on board with what we talked about; cold-turkey. She’ll help get him here and in the cell.”

  Eleanor let out a slow breath that sounded halfway between relief and concern. “Good.” I knew Eleanor hated the idea of imprisoning our own family like this… but we had no other options. Frank was hooked… and that was dangerous. His heart couldn’t take the extended use like we knew he was doing. Especially if he was refining… dosing with the liquid form like Jane had verified.

  No one said anything for a moment. It was the kind of silence that didn’t feel natural in our home. Like the house itself knew we were waiting for something that shouldn’t be; one of the many problems we were facing. This time, however, we weren’t facing one big enemy with teeth and claws. We were facing things more… complicated… on all fronts.

  Sarah shifted on the edge of her seat, fingers fidgeting in her lap. “Patrick texted. Said they were ten minutes out.” She looked and felt nervous. She hated lying like this to her son, especially so close after his father had passed. She just wanted their family to heal, and this wasn’t helping anything.

  Shelta, quiet as ever, just kept her eyes on the front door, head tilted a little like she was listening to something none of us could hear. Seeing something none of us could see. I knew that was exactly what she was doing with her Attuned powers.

  I moved to Eleanor’s side and sat down slowly, feeling the tension pulsing off everyone in the room. Nobody said it out loud, but we were all thinking the same thing. Something was off with Autumn; no one could deny that. Patrick’s own family knew that it was not normal for Autumn to pull Patrick back in like she had. She had outright rejected him so many times, since their initial relationship back in their origin.

  However… they had almost been inseparable since she told Sam to go away. It was… not her, and none of us knew which version of her would walk through that door.

  Shelta finally broke the silence, her voice soft and uneasy. “I…don’t like the feel of this, Carter. The air around her has changed.” She glanced at Sarah, then back at me. “Even Patrick seemed…different when I saw him last. But I…” she looked into some unseen void that I’d never be able to understand, but I knew the look on her face. “I feel something.” Her short, cropped black hair was as unmoving around her face as her eyes as she stared into a different plane of existence that I could not register.

  Sarah nodded reluctantly, lower lip drawn between her teeth. “He’s been distant. And when I ask about Autumn, he just tells me not to worry. Says she’s ‘come around.’”

  The way she said the last words made my skin crawl. Like he was some sniveling weasel who just waited around for someone to finally give in to his nonstop bombardment and never-ending proposals to get back together. Like he was proud of sneaking in like some snake in the grass.

  I had to tell myself to calm down. I felt anger toward the boy that I didn’t recognize right away. But it spawned from everything going on. I needed someone to direct it at, and Patrick was the only problem currently on my mind, and was heading to my house.

  Eleanor’s hands slid into mine. Her fingers were ice cold. “We just need to see her,” she whispered. “Him too. Talk to them and tell both of them what we know. We don’t know anything for sure until we do.”

  I gave her a small nod, though my thoughts were already racing ahead… Sam’s vision, the fucking hairbrush, the dead roommate, Peter doing something unspeakable in the privacy of that room, Patrick holding something he should never have been holding. I tried to breathe around the knot in my chest.

  Outside, a car slowed to a stop. Four sets of eyes turned toward the front window in unison.

  “They’re here,” Shelta warned.

  No one moved. For a heartbeat, no one even breathed. Then I stood up and started toward the door, Eleanor right at my side. The Wicklows followed a pace behind.

  Whatever we were about to face… we would face it together. We had to, because right after this, we had to face Frank, and trap his ass down in my basement in a prison meant for monsters.

  I reached for the door handle just as footsteps sounded on the porch. I opened the front door just as Autumn stepped up onto the porch, Patrick a half-step behind her. They were both right there, just two kids coming in from a few hours out in the city. For a moment… nothing seemed wrong. For a second, I forgot how to speak about what we were here for.

  She looked so much like Eleanor; same eyes, same dark brown hair that bordered on black in the low light… the same gentle slope of her jaw, but there was something off in her expression. A subtle stillness that didn’t belong to her. Like she was wearing her own face the way someone else might wear a mask.

  “Hey, sweetie,” I said softly, forcing a warm smile as I pulled her into a quick, tight hug. I felt her arms come around me… but there was no pressure behind them. No real hold, just contact, like this wasn't something she wanted, but something she just wanted over.

  She pulled away with the same quiet calm and stepped inside.

  “Carter,” Patrick greeted, giving me a respectful nod. His voice was light, relaxed, but his dark eyes never stopped moving; always watching. His long hair was pulled into its usual ponytail, dressed down like it was just another casual afternoon.

  “Patrick,” I said, nodding him inside.

  Eleanor moved in and hugged Autumn, whispering a quiet “you look beautiful”, and then gave Patrick a polite smile. All of this was to gauge reactions… feel out our daughter and see if we could notice anything in the things she said, did, or didn’t do.

  Shelta and Sarah offered quick welcomes as well, just enough warmth to keep the illusion intact, while also testing them in their own ways.

  We guided them into the living room, the air strangely thick despite the polite smiles. I think that they either knew something was going on, or they were so wrapped up in their own world that they didn’t care for whatever this was and just wanted it over. None of it interested them.

  “Sorry to call you both here so suddenly,” I said as everyone took their seats. “There’s been… a situation with one of Autumn’s uncles. Nothing too serious, but it’s a family matter and we thought it would be best to talk together.”

  Autumn frowned, head tilting just slightly. “Is everything okay?” Even her concern was different, like it was surface level, not a true family care like I knew my daughter would have for either of her uncles.

  “Yeah,” I said quickly, keeping my voice light. “It’s under control. Just… complicated.”

  Patrick relaxed back into the couch, one arm draped along the top around Autumn’s shoulders. “Hey… it’s family. You do what you gotta do.” He flashed a grin. “Happy to help if we can.”

  I wanted to punch him. He was too… casual, too assertive in his speaking with me. This wasn't him, either, as much as I hated to admit it.

  For a few seconds, we let the small talk roll; empty reassurances about relatives, a few passing comments about the drive and the weather. Normal things. Harmless things. But then another thing bugged all of us, and we all noticed it at the same time. Neither of them asked for the details about who or what we were talking about. Patrick had just lost his father, so even for him, this was beyond weird. At the very least, he should be concerned for Autumn as she was having some kind of family problem. But Autumn, she wasn't digging for more information. I saw her eyes cut to the clock on the wall and her cell phone a few times as we spoke. She just wanted to get out of there.

  And then I glanced at Shelta. She met my eyes, gave the faintest nod. I took a slow breath and turned back to Patrick.

  “Actually… there’s something else we need to talk about.”

  The room went still.

  Patrick’s brow lifted in polite confusion. “Oh?”

  I didn’t blink. “About the green hairbrush.”

  Patrick’s head snapped toward me the instant I said the words… then, he didn’t move.

  “We know Peter Grimwood took it from Autumn’s dorm,” I continued, voice steady. “And we know he handed it to you.”

  Silence collapsed over the room like a blanket. Patrick didn’t speak at all; he didn’t even blink. For a heartbeat, he was just still, staring back at me with those dark eyes, all the easy warmth gone from his face like someone had flipped a switch.

  Even Autumn glanced at him now, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features. But she didn’t say a word. That’s when I realized, we all realized, Autumn had no idea what we were talking about.

  I didn’t break eye contact with Patrick, watching Autumn from my periphery. We all waited for his reaction. For the truth, or the lie, whichever came out of his mouth.