Chapter Twenty-Six
THE AIR GOES COLD AROUNDme.
No, I think. No. No. Every fiber of my body resists this being the truth.
“You’re lying,” I say quickly. “That’s sick. You’re fucking lying and—”
“I’m not lying,” LJ says. “Maren, please, trust me, I’m not.”
Maren. Not Princess. Not “you” or “her.”
My name.
He’s serious.
“I knew he’d sold to someone important, some prosecutor who used and crashed his car with his wife inside. But that was before my time. Didn’t know who the guy was, let alone that he had a daughter. Let alone that...”
He trails off. But only for a moment.
“I hated that he wasn’t telling you,” he goes on. “That none of them were. Said he didn’t want you to run away again, think you could make it on your own. Said we had to protect you even if that meant lying. But I couldn’t do it, Maren.” LJ’s gaze finds mine, urgent, pleading. “I’m sorry. I wish—”
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” I interrupt. I feel sick. This can’t be true. I can’t have let someone like that touch me, see me, make me feel...anything. Him and anyone who helped him. “You say they’re lying to me. Why should I trust that you’re not the one lying?”
“Because I’m not!” LJ roars. His anger startles me, and I take a step back. LJ notices and looks away, like he’s ashamed.
“Sorry,” he mutters.
“And why just tell me now, for that matter?” I say. “If you knew all along, and this was really bothering you, why not just tell me the first chance you got?”
I’m digging, desperate. I don’t see LJ as a liar—not the man who defended me from creeps and stole a necklace for me—but it’s either him, or the other three. And I guess he’s the less painful option.
“Well, at first, I didn’t know,” LJ says. “How was I supposed to know that the random runaway we found trespassing on our land was the daughter of a guy Rob and the others used to...anyway,” he trails off. “Besides, I didn’t think you’d be here long enough for it to matter. I didn’t like having you around—”
“And still don’t,” I interject.
“You don’t know that,” LJ bites out. “But I figured we’d collect the ransom and that’d be it. Except then Rob went all soft on you. And the other guys too. Then Tuck figured out who you were—who your father was—and I really didn’t want you here. I just...I felt bad, Maren. And then once it was clear you were going to stay, the night of the Fox Hunt club, I got angry. Really fucking angry. Because I felt powerless. And...”
With that, LJ looks up at me, his eyes clear and piercing, and my heart just melts.
God, but I had him all wrong.
This guy isn’t the grumpy meathead son of a bitch who hates me and the fancy family I came from.
He’s the protector. The man who wears responsibility like it’s heavy armor. The man who builds strength so he can keep others safe. Even if it means keeping them at arm’s length.
And right now, he feels like he’s a failed one.
I’m still seething, raging, furious at this reality, restless and overcharged, but the need to reassure him, to offer him comfort, overrules all of that. I reach forward and touch his cheek.
“LJ,” I say softly. Even in my anger, I can find that for him, summon a small good feeling. “Don’t.”
He puts his hand to mine, lets it linger there a moment, and then pushes me gently away.
“I’m sorry, Princess.” He blows out a breath. “God, I don’t even know if I’m doing the right thing now. But when Will changed the locks the other day, that was the last straw. I couldn’t—it’s not right.”
“The locks?” I repeat. The skin at the back of my neck prickles with warning.
LJ looks away. “The new security system isn’t just to keep your uncle out, Maren. It’s—”
“To keep me in?” It’s a guess, one I’d hate to be right, but LJ just nods. I shake my head.
“No,” I say. “They wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t they?” LJ says. “You know our secret now. They don’t want to hurt you, but they can’t risk their own necks. You could lead the sheriff right to us if you wanted.”
“But I wouldn’t.” Except even as I say the words, I’m not sure they’re true.
“Wouldn’t you?” LJ raises his voice. “Now that you know what they did, you wouldn’t fucking jump at the chance to hand them over and get your revenge?”
There’s a long stretch of silence.
“They can’t really be locking me in here,” I say. It’s crazy that I still won’t believe it, won’t think badly of them. Even knowing that they’re the reason I’m an orphan. The reason I grew up with nothing. That I was screamed at, hit, burned, abused, worked to the fucking bone.
“Well, they are,” LJ barks. “That’s how they think, Maren. How all of us think. It’s always about the greater good, the bigger benefit. They don’t want to clip your goddamn wings, but they also don’t want to compromise our whole mission. That leaves a lot more people much worse off.”
“Yeah, and keeps their asses safe and sound,” I mutter. “Pretty fucking convenient.” I wait a beat. “I still...can’t believe it.”
“Go ask, if you want,” LJ says, his voice low and steady. “Ask Will why he has all those locks in place. He won’t lie to your face. I know he won’t. He—all of them—were just hoping you’d never catch on. But I couldn’t let that lie.” His broad shoulders slacken slightly. “I owe them loyalty. I owe them my fucking life. But I owe you...at least the honor of the truth.”
I swallow, hard. Then I lean forward on my tiptoes and give LJ the barest kiss on the cheek.
“Thank you,” I say.
LJ says nothing, just wraps his massive arms around me.
It’s warm, and safe, and all too short.
But it has to be.
When he lets me go, I look up into his eyes.
“Where’s Will?”
I’VE NEVER BEEN INWill’s room before, and it’s weird that these are the circumstances I’m seeing it for the first time.
It’s neat and sleek, as is to be expected, decorated not in the deep tones of black leather and polished mahogany from elsewhere, but in steely grays and blonde wood, all Scandi style. Hidden LED lighting softly illuminates the mist-colored walls that surround an artfully simple bedframe—no doubt something designer—and a few carefully-decorated bookcases on either side of a desk.
Which is where Will is sitting, his back to me, as I hover in the doorframe.
“No, no, I got them right here, I believe...”
My heart slows, then skids back up. He’s on the phone with someone, presumably, and hasn’t heard my footsteps. It’s strange, getting to see him alone and unaware like this, in just a T-shirt and jeans instead of his usual button-down. The way he leans back in the chair, stares out the window as he talks, rubs the back of his neck with his broad hand...it’s tempting. I hate that it still is, but it is.
In the time it took me to get from LJ’s apartment back to the main house, I’ve talked myself in circles. I know these guys—but not that well. I trusted them with my life—but maybe not for a good reason. And I want what he said to be anything but the truth. It’s so fantastical, so unlikely...
...but then again, literal shapeshifters are real. Anything’s fucking possible, it seems.
Still...I want good news. I want the misunderstanding, the coincidence. I want it all to blow over so I can laugh and roll my eyes and peel that shirt off Will’s body so we can rumple up those perfect sheets of his.
From the desk comes the sound of ripping cardboard, like a package being opened, startling me back to my senses.
“Yep, all four present and accounted for.” A light jingling noise—presumably Will unboxing whatever four things just got delivered. “Thank you for—hm? No, I know it’s not the fanciest upgrade. But we can’t use retinal scans or fingerprints, given how often we’re, you know, changing things.” He chuckles. “Yeah. An old-fashioned key fob works fine. Yes, you too. Bye.”
I wait for a beat, then two, before announcing my presence.
“Will.”
Will startles a little and turns around in his seat. His face softens when he sees me.
“Hey,” he says. “Maren.”
Immediately, he jumps out of the chair to stand at attention, all old-fashioned manners style, which pulls at something in my chest. Behind him, on the desk, I see a few small, shiny trinket-like objects—the key fobs, presumably.
Upgrade the security.
That makes sense, I guess.
“What’s wrong?” He frowns, seeing my expression, and strides over to me, catching my face in his hands. I close my eyes, letting them linger shut as the cool scent of his cologne washes over me.
How do I even say this?
I open my eyes.
“Nothing,” I lie. Coming in hot’s not going to get me anywhere, I decide. “Just...processing a lot.” I gently take his wrists and lower them from my face, then pace over to his bed and sit. “Your room is nice.”
Will looks around nonchalantly and nods, hands in his pockets. “I try to keep it calm. An oasis away from all the chaos.”
“Mm.” I nod. On his bedside table, there’s a single paperback—Italo Calvino, If On A Winter’s Night A Traveler...
“I know, pretentious as hell,” Will says, following my gaze as he sinks onto the bed next to me. “But it’s interesting. I like the experimentation in forms. How every chapter’s different—”
“The transformation,” I finish for him.
His lips tick up in a smile. “You could say that.” I can feel his gaze on me, even as I’m not looking back at him. My skin flushes, betraying my calm.
There’s so much I don’t know about him, about all of them, I realize. Not just what they’ve been covering up or lying about, either. I don’t know what they wear to sleep, what their birthdays or middle names are, what they were like as kids or who their families are.
And I want to know. I want things to go normally—or, okay, as normally as possible, given the circumstances. I want to have that getting to know them, that gradual discovering.
I want to fall in love with them.
The thought staggers me, would send me wobbling off my feet if I were still standing.
But it’s the truth.
And it’s why I don’t want this moment to end, don’t want to say what I know I have to, and shatter that possibility for once and for all.
But maybe I can get just a little more out of this moment before it all blows apart.
“Have you always known?” I ask suddenly.
“Known?”
“That you’re...a shifter,” I say, still weirded out by saying the word out loud. “Like, is it a family tradition, or something?’
Will gives a short, brief laugh. “Not hardly. My parents were only too happy to cut me out as soon as they learned there was something different about me. Not exactly appropriate for the social set they ran in, I guess.” He shrugs a shoulder. “And no, I didn’t always know. Maybe if you grow up around this kind of thing, you’re clued in earlier, but for me it was...a surprise. Not exactly a pleasant one. Kind of like puberty on steroids.”
I wince. And a thought occurs to me.
“I was around thirteen when I started having my...” I wiggle a hand in the air. “Whatever they are. I always thought it was triggered by the stress of my parents dying, but—”
I stop myself short. Just saying that out loud reminds me why I’m here.
I push that thought away. Just a little longer, I bargain with myself.
“I interrupted you,” I say quickly, getting to my feet. Will glances back at his desk and shakes his head.
“Not really. Just getting some of the new security stuff installed.”
My gaze drifts over his shoulder to the desk and I see four key fobs.
Just four.
Rob, Will, Tuck, and LJ.
None for Maren.
Because I’m not supposed to leave.
A shiver courses through me.
“So is that when you met Rob?” I ask. “After your family—”
“Basically,” Will says, leaning back onto his elbows. “I was slumming it in various hotels, running up my father’s corporate account until he got wind of it and cut me off. Then I met Rob, and he gave me a place to live and...something to do with my life.”
I glance back at him, but his eyes aren’t meeting mine.
I swallow hard.
“And what were you doing? Back then?”
Will frowns, looks at me. “What do you mean?”
“Before the whole steal from the rich, give to the poor thing,” I say, compelling my voice to stay steady.
Will sits up, his eyebrows drawn. “Why do you want to know?”
“Is there a reason I can’t know?” My words are quivering now, too tense and angry to stay placid. “Is there something I should know?”
Will stands up and strides over to me in two steps, then grabs my arms gently. “Maren, you—”
“What did you do?” I say, my chin juddering as I speak. “What did he do?”
A serious expression passes over Will’s face like a stormcloud. He lets go of me.
“Maren, I—” He searches my face, and recognition dawns. He slumps, ever so slightly. “Wait,” he says. “Wait here. Let me get Rob—”
“So it’s true,” I interrupt. “You—all of you. You’re the reason he’s dead.”
“Maren,” Will roars. “It’s not like that. It’s—”
“Then what is it like?” I cry, barely biting back a sob. “Tell me, Will. I’m so ready for your excuse. Please.”
Panic briefly flickers over his handsome features. He spreads his hands in the air as if fixing me in place.
“Just...please, Maren, just wait here. Let me get Rob and we’ll set things straight, okay?”
I say nothing, just barely nod, and Will rushes from the room.
When he’s gone, I count slowly to ten.
Just like I used to with Uncle John.
Then, quick as a flash, I dart to the wall and pocket one of the key fobs.
And run.