Chapter 17
Seventeen
GRAYSON
Itake the stairs three at a time as I race towards my apartment.
Ethan, despite his grumbling, has been left outside.
I would have no way to explain away his presence.
Maybe if he had fur, I could pass him off as a huge dog, but with the way he looks now, people would go running in the opposite direction, screaming, “Monster!”
When I arrive at my apartment, I’m surprised to find the door partially open. Instantly, I’m on alert, my hands balling into fists as I venture a tentative step closer. Rigid tension ripples through me as I slowly push the door open.
“What the fuck?” I murmur, frowning as I take in the state of my apartment.
It has been completely torn apart.
My mattress has been shredded and tossed against the far wall, and the meager belongings in my fridge have been thrown onto the floor. Every drawer is open, and the contents in my closet have been torn off their hangers.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” I step over broken glass and hurry towards my bathroom, unsurprised to find it in a similar state of disarray.
Someone was here. And recently, if the faint scent lingering in the air is any indication. I may not have drunk blood recently, but my senses are still slightly better than that of a human, and this person—whoever he or she is—has a bitter scent to them, like rotten eggs.
I wrinkle my nose.
What the fuck were they looking for? This couldn’t be a normal robbery. I’m a broke-ass nineteen-year-old and have nothing of value. The only thing they could possibly—
My chest hollows, and my knees begin to curl.
I peel open the medicine cabinet in the bathroom.
The fake wall is still in place, thank fuck, but that doesn’t mean much.
My heart hammering like a runaway freight train, I dig my fingers into the siding and swing it open, revealing a hidden compartment beneath it.
In it, I spot a spare cell phone, a few important photographs, and…
The pendant.
Relief loosens my rigid muscles, and I can finally take in a full breath.
Izzy.
My hands tremble as I grab the pendant and place it over my neck, allowing the gemstone to rest directly above my rapidly beating heart. I grip it tightly and take comfort in the repetitive thump-thump-thump of the stone pulsating.
Izzy’s heartbeat.
I had this pendant especially made for Izzy a while ago.
Not only will it allow me to feel her heartbeat, which is currently steady, but it’ll also guide me to her location.
Already, I can feel the magic throbbing steadily, guiding my feet, propelling me in a direction that will hopefully lead me to my mate.
My relief is short-lived, however, when I turn away from the cabinet and face my ransacked apartment once more.
If they were looking for this pendant, they obviously didn’t find it.
But the question is…why? There’s no way they know the power it holds, right?
And why would they want something that would lead them to Izzy?
Questions percolate in my mind, but I don’t even know what to begin asking.
Either way, I have to get the fuck out of here, and soon, before whoever it is returns.
Deciding quickly, I grab a backpack out of my closet, pick clothes off the floor at random, change into a clean outfit, and shove the rest inside.
Most of my food has been stepped on or has gone bad, but I manage to find a few granola bars that I add to my pack.
My usual water bottle is sitting on my nightstand, so I grab that as well, fill it with water, then place it in my bag.
Finally, I grab the spare phone and charger before heading back outside.
I debate, briefly, sneaking Ethan inside the apartment to see if he can detect the intruder. But even as the errant thought forms, I dismiss it. Having him track someone who may or may not have malicious intentions will have to wait until after we find Izzy.
Besides, there are too many humans milling around for me to feel comfortable bringing him—including sweet, ninety-year-old Ethel, who waves at me from where she stands in the hallway, talking to Mrs. Melrose and her daughter Lucia.
Who the fuck knows what Ethan’s wolf would do to them? I know next to nothing about the state of his mind right now. For all I know, Ethan is gone, and his wolf is entirely in control. Doesn’t that happen sometimes to shifters?
I hurry down the stairs, the heavy backpack slapping against my lower back with every step, and then push through the front door of my apartment complex. I left Ethan in the woods, just on the outskirts of the parking lot, so I make a beeline in that direction—
Only to pause when I spot a familiar figure leaning against her car, watching me.
Sydney.
Her brown hair has been plaited away from her face in a loose braid, and she wears a flannel shirt over a tank top. She folds her arms over her chest as she stares at me, looking incredibly small and vulnerable, nothing like the badass wolf shifter I know she is.
I don’t hate Sydney. Hell, I even like the girl, though my feelings for her never extended further than that. She’s funny and nice and would get along great with Izzy.
My gut churns as I take her in, noting the bruise on her cheek and the puffiness of her eyes.
In order to save Izzy, I was forced to compile data on the wolf shifters.
When I first met Sydney and discovered who she was, it was a no-brainer that I would get close to her in order to gather information.
When she asked me if I would be her boyfriend, I accepted, knowing I would never feel for her the way she did me.
Maybe that makes me the shittiest type of person, but I had no choice.
I did what I had to do in order to save Izzy.
I never kissed Sydney or anything like that, but I knew her feelings for me gradually grew from merely friendship to something…
more, something deeper, something I couldn’t return.
So I held her hand in public, played up the part of the doting boyfriend, met all of her friends, but inside, I was screaming, hating myself for hurting her. For hurting Izzy. For hurting everyone.
I wonder if Sydney was at the barbecue. That could explain the bruise marring her cheek.
But why the fuck did she come here?
I stop a few feet away from her, struggling to find the words to say. But instead of speaking, I do what I do best and remain quiet, watching her gather herself.
Belatedly, I’m aware of eyes on me from the edge of the forest.
Ethan.
Sydney sniffles and shifts from one foot to the other.
“Something happened today,” she says, her words a whisper that carries in the wind. “Something…bad.”
Tears glisten in her eyes, but she doesn’t let them fall. She’s stronger than that.
Of course, she doesn’t know I was there when everything happened. She can’t know that.
So I remain quiet, watching her.
“And my first thought was that I needed to see you.” She finally glances up at me, and the pain in her eyes is an arrow to the gut. “Does that make me a horrible person? That I went to check on you before I even asked about my brothers or parents?”
Wordlessly, I shake my head.
It doesn’t make her a horrible person.
It makes me one.
Sydney swallows and glances away, staring at something over my shoulder. A muscle in her jaw twitches erratically.
“But you don’t want to see me, do you?” Her voice breaks, and a single tear—one that she stubbornly held back for so long—cascades down her face.
“Because it’s never been me, has it? Not when we first met, and you laughed at my jokes and made me feel pretty.
Not when you first held my hand. Not when I leaned in to kiss you, but you pulled away, feigning shyness. It was never me, was it?”
I grit my teeth but don’t respond. I honestly don’t have an explanation for her besides the fact that I’m a shit person who has done shitty things to un-shitty people. I hurt her. I know that, and I’ll live with that guilt for the rest of my life.
But what makes me feel even more guilty? It’s the fact that I don’t regret it. I would do it all over again if it means keeping my Gracie safe.
More tears stream down Sydney’s face, and she sniffles, still refusing to look at me. “I loved you. You know that, right? I still do. We could’ve been good together.” She finally shifts her gaze to mine, and the sadness emanating from her eyes takes my breath away. “I hope she’s worth it, Grayson.”
Yes, I want to say. She’s worth everything.
But I don’t, because that feels like pouring salt on a bloody wound. I may have already established I’m an asshole, but I’ve never wanted to hurt Sydney intentionally. I may not love her, but she is—was—my friend, and I enjoy spending time with her.
I say the only words I can think of. “I’m sorry.”
They don’t seem to be enough.
And Sydney evidently agrees because she snorts and moves towards the driver’s side door.
“Don’t ever talk to me again, Grayson.” But when she turns back to stare at me, I realize she’s wanting something entirely different.
For me to fight for her.
For me to beg her to come back.
For me to apologize and say she’s the one for me.
I don’t.
Sydney chokes on a sob and, without another word, opens the car door and slides inside. The headlights of her car briefly blind me before she pulls away, disappearing down a side street.
For a long moment, I simply stand there, my hand unconsciously traveling to the pendant on my chest. I grip it tightly and take comfort in Izzy’s heartbeat, wishing she were here with me.
Would she even still love me if she knew the extent of what I’ve done?
If she knew the darkness that tainted my soul?
Thump-thump-thump.
Ethan prowls out of the forest, his head lowered and his teeth bared. His amber eyes gleam menacingly in the darkness.
“You heard all of that, huh?” I rasp out, my voice breaking.
In answer, Ethan stops beside me, lifts his leg, and pees on my leg.
I…totally deserve that.
But when the asshole wolf begins to squat and grunt, about to take a shit, I step away, crinkling my nose.
“Come on, dick brains. Let’s go find our girl.”
And a shower. I’ll need to quickly head back inside and clean myself up before we can leave.
I may be able to wash away Ethan’s piss, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to rid myself of the guilt I feel over my actions. I suppose it’s just something I’ll have to learn to live with.
All I can do is pray that Izzy will forgive me for the monster I’ve become while trying to protect her.