Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Getting out of bed is a challenge. I lie in a ball under my sheets, unsure what to do with myself. I have no mission, nothing to do, and no fucking friends.
Caleb kept me busy, but without his distraction, I’m painfully aimless. HPAW made a fool of me. I made a fool of myself. There were so many times when I thought about telling Caleb the truth, about giving him the benefit of the doubt, and I regret never finding the courage to do so.
I drag my fingertips over my scarred knees.
Had Caleb asked me about this scar, I would’ve told him it was earned while learning how to ride a bike.
I don’t even know how to ride a fucking bike.
I got this scar when I was fourteen. I was sparring with a soldier—a blonde-haired, skinny boy who couldn’t have been any older than nineteen.
I landed a good hit, and he got angry. He shoved me to the ground from behind, and my bare knees took the brunt of the impact.
My fingers trail up my thighs. So many scars. So many lies.
I’m tired of lying. I’m tired of pretending to be somebody I’m not.
There’s a public library in town. Caleb briefly mentioned it once, and Sash pointed it out when she gave me a tour. I’m sure there are books about shifters there—books that haven’t been written by humans. It seems like a good place to start.
I was eager to learn about the shifters while with Caleb, but only in the context of what would be helpful for HPAW.
I didn’t waste my energy learning anything else, and I should’ve.
It’s not too late to do so. I might as well learn about the people I’m going to be spending the rest of my life around.
I force myself out of bed and into the kitchen. The pad of paper still sits beside the landline, Caleb’s number scratched into the top sheet. My palms grow damp, and I wipe them on my pants before making the call.
Caleb answers on the third ring. “What?”
“I’d like to go to the library and read about shifters—about your culture and whatnot.”
My request is met with silence.
I clear my throat. “Is that okay?”
“I don’t care what you do,” Caleb eventually says. “You don’t need my permission to leave your apartment.”
“I don’t want you thinking I’m still working for HPAW,” I admit.
Caleb huffs. “I don’t care if you are. You’re not getting anywhere near our borders. Learn all you want. It won’t do you any good.”
I’m not going to argue with him. Daniel used to use this expression, something about beating a dead horse. He refused to do it. I have no interest in it, either. Caleb doesn’t trust me and begging him to isn’t going to fix anything.
I draw in a breath, hold, and slowly release. Be calm, Evelyn.
“Okay. I won’t bother you—”
Caleb interrupts me. “How do you plan to get there?”
“To the library?”
“Obviously.”
“I’ll walk.”
“No,” Caleb says. “I’ll stop by and drop off my car. I have no use for it anymore.” He only ever used it with me. “I’ll have a tracker placed on it. If you veer off path, I’ll know.”
I bite my tongue. “I understand.”
“I’ll be there in an hour.”
The line goes dead. I slam the phone back into its base, frustrated by the conversation. It’s going to take a long time to earn Caleb’s trust. I can’t rush it.
I’m showered, dressed, and fed by the time Caleb arrives. I open the door for him, quickly clasping my hands behind my back when his gaze darts toward my right hand. I don’t want him to see my blackened marking.
He grunts. “I parked out front.”
He looks better today. Refreshed. He’s freshly shaven, and the dark bags underneath his eyes have vanished. The same can’t be said about myself. I’ve been avoiding looking in the mirror.
He clears his throat. “I looked into your family…”
I perk up. “And?”
“They’re dead.” The blunt words steal the breath from my lungs. I deflate. “It wasn’t shifters, but I can’t find any details about their cause of death. It doesn’t appear that you have any other surviving relatives, either. Sorry.”
“Okay.”
I figured as much, and I already knew I didn’t have any relatives. My parents were both only children, and both sets of my grandparents had died before I was born. I never had an extended family.
Caleb smacks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “I’m sorry I don’t have good news for you.”
I lift and drop one shoulder. “It’s fine.”
“Whatever you say.” Caleb hands me the car keys. “Don’t make me regret this.”
A warm gust of air hits me as I push open the library doors. Today’s wind is brutal. Winter is quickly settling in here, and it’s fucking frigid.
I pull my coat tighter around myself as I look around.
The library is old, but it’s well-maintained. Floor-to-ceiling wooden bookshelves span the left and right sides of the building. In the center is a wide walkway filled with round tables and the occasional leather couch. This building is cozy, quaint.
Several shifters mill about, many flipping through books but a few clustered together in groups.
Directly in front of the doors is the reception desk. The woman behind it is already looking at me, her lips twisted in a sour frown.
She’s older than me but still young. Maybe in her early thirties. Her bright-red sweater draws attention, as do the large snowman earrings she’s paired with it. Ignoring her scowl, she looks cheerful—just not toward me.
I assume she’s heard the rumor about my cheating.
I force myself to smile as I approach her. “Afternoon,” I say, desperate to seem friendly. “Are there any books about shifters here?”
The woman’s gaze travels to my exposed hands. I want to hide them behind my back or in the pockets of my coat, but I resist the urge. It’s no secret what happened to our bond, and I’d rather she take her fill of my blackened marking now than continually try to sneak glimpses.
Her face twists into disgust.
“Yes,” she finally says. “I just got off the phone with Alpha Knox, and I’ve set aside some books for you.” She turns, gesturing for me to follow her. “Come.”
Am I supposed to use Caleb’s title now? That’s how most shifters refer to him, but mates don’t use titles with one another. I’m officially no longer recognized as his mate, though.
The woman leads me down the center walkway, past the bookshelves. I peer down the rows, amazed by the sheer number of books here. I’ve never seen anything like this. Are most libraries this large? It’s incredible.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Mary.”
The few shifters here are watching us, their brown eyes locked on to my every movement. I stare at Mary’s heels, trying to avoid meeting their pointed glares. I drew a lot of attention at the HPAW facility, but it was never quite this hostile.
Mary leads me to one of the round tables. There’s a stack of seven books sitting in the center, and Mary points to the chair on the left. It’s in direct view of the reception desk, which I doubt is a coincidence. Mary intends to keep a close eye on me.
“Why does Alpha Knox want to pre-approve your reading material?” she asks.
I pause, scrambling for an answer. The shifters don’t know I worked for HPAW. They think I cheated on Caleb. They probably think it’s odd that he wishes to keep shifter information from me.
Mary taps her foot against the ground, waiting for my answer. I’m sure the nearby shifters are tuned into our conversation, too. Why wouldn’t they be? They’re probably wondering the same things.
How am I supposed to answer her? Caleb lied about my betrayal because he thinks my relationship with HPAW will make me irredeemable in the eyes of his pack.
They’ll never forgive me. But I don’t want to be a liar.
I’ve done enough of that, and if I’m going to prove that I’m not the person Caleb thinks I am, I need to begin with the truth.
“I didn’t cheat on Caleb,” I admit. “I was—”
Mary sneers. “It’s Alpha Knox to you.”
“Okay. I didn’t cheat on Alpha Knox. I came here as an undercover member of HPAW. My mission was to earn your alpha’s affection, learn vital information about the shifters, and eventually kill Alpha Knox. I attempted to kill him and return to HPAW two days ago.”
I’m not going to disclose just how close I came to killing Caleb, but that’s for his benefit, not mine. Caleb has a reputation to uphold, and I don’t want to risk the pack thinking less of him because a human woman almost bested him. I’ll leave the details of my betrayal up to him to share.
The quiet chatter in the room falls silent.
All eyes are on me, and I clear my throat before pulling out my seat and slinking into it.
Sweat trickles down my inner arms as I shrug off my coat, and it takes all my courage to look up and meet Mary’s gaze.
I did this, and I intend to take responsibility for it.
I lick my lips. “I’ve since learned that the things HPAW told me are untrue, and I want to make amends. I’m not a bad person, and I intend to prove that.”
Mary’s pupils dilate and her shoulders jerk, anger pushing her wolf features to the surface. Is she fighting back a shift? Is she going to kill me? It sure fucking seems like it.
I refuse to break eye contact. Despite my training, I don’t realistically think I can win in a fight against a shifter. Still, I’m not going to cower. I did what I did, and I’m prepared to own up to it.
Somebody approaches on our left, placing a hand on Mary’s shoulder. It’s Logan.
“Leave,” he orders. Mary brushes him away. Logan spins, placing himself between us. “Leave now, Mary. You heard Knox’s orders. Nobody is to touch Evelyn.”
Mary scoffs, pure hatred behind her pretty, brown eyes. “HPAW is responsible for my grandfather’s death. They fucking skinned him, and this—”
Logan shifts, his muscles tensing. “Leave it alone, Mary. Knox has made his decision to allow Evelyn to remain in the pack, and you will respect that.” He cocks his head to the side. “Shall I tell him that you’ve disobeyed his direct order?”
Mary grinds her teeth, stepping away. I can tell it physically pains her to do so, and I realize Caleb might’ve been onto something. Maybe it is best that the pack believes I cheated on him. Too late now, I suppose.
Logan fills the seat opposite me. Did Caleb order him to monitor me? He says nothing as he pulls out his phone and begins tapping away. He’s probably telling Caleb about my conversation with Mary. Very well.
I hang my coat over the back of my chair and pull the top book off the stack. It’s a memoir. I read the title, my throat dry. It’s written by the alpha responsible for the exodus.
Logan remains at the table, never once looking away from his phone as I read.
I fly through the memoir, flipping the pages with rapt focus.
It’s precisely as Caleb said. The alpha responsible for the exodus was a high-ranking government official.
He spoke with the human American government on behalf of the shifters, but things went south when the humans decided to push the shifters to undergo genetic testing.
Bile rises up my throat. They wanted to breed the shifters. I had no idea. That isn’t the story we’ve been told.
The shifters rebelled, obviously. It was the last straw, and they decided to announce themselves to the public and isolate themselves in Canada. The country was mostly shifter populated, anyway. The American shifters retreated to Canada, joining the newly established packs.
I drag my fingers through my hair. My hands are shaking, as is my breath.
Logan glances up, then returns his attention to his phone.
I grab the next book. It’s about markings and mate bonds.
A small part of me wants to brush it aside.
My bond is dead, and even if I do find a way to fix it, Caleb doesn’t want anything to do with me.
It doesn’t hurt to flip through it.
The first section is about markings. It discusses how the designs are unique to mated pairs and how the color represents the purity of the bond.
It’s all things I already know. The next section explains what the specific design reveals about the bond between a mated pair.
It’s fascinating, but I can’t bring myself to read it—not here.
Logan sets his phone down, practically tossing it onto the table. I spare him a glance, but I don’t linger. He’s glaring at me.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Peachy.”
The following section covers the coloring of a marking.
I read it in great detail. Infidelity, abuse, and abandonment all cause a mark to darken.
That’s expected, but there are a few other causes I wasn’t expecting.
Drug use, unapproved masturbation, and misuse of shared resources have all been reported to cause discoloration.
There’s no information on how to reverse the darkening.
Caleb wasn’t exaggerating when he said a mark fully blackening isn’t something that happens to the shifters.
A bond rarely gets to this point of ruin, and it’s even rarer that the pair then decides to try to repair what’s been broken.
From what I’ve read, they’re usually ecstatic to finally be free of one another and go their separate ways.
The book does briefly mention that marks lighten over time. The text says its natural state is white, and most will gradually transition back. It says it takes months, maybe even years.
I don’t have years—or even months. Caleb’s mark is darkening by the day. I drop my forehead to the table, the tiny shred of hope I was foolishly holding on to dying.
“Are you almost done?” Logan asks. “I have things I need to get to.”
I peer up at him. “You don’t need to stay here with me.”
“I do, actually.” He rises, bundling my books in his arms. I resist the urge to snatch them out of his hands. “Take these home with you. I’ll clear it with Mary.”
He shoves the books into my chest. They’re surprisingly heavy.
“Did you know?” I ask. “About Caleb and me?”
Logan nods. “Of course. Sash and I saw the blood.”
I wince without meaning to. There was so much of it.
I don’t say anything as I set down my books, pull on my coat, and pick them back up. I didn’t think I’d be allowed to take these with me. I’m tempted to thank Logan, but I doubt he’ll appreciate it.
My training is the only thing that keeps me from trembling as I walk out of the library, Logan hot on my heels. The shifter won’t see me cry.