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“No, I can not usepaint?—”

“Sit down,” Ambrose barks. “We’re not finished talking about this.”

He disapproves. The deep lines on his brow are more than enough evidence.

“What’s there talk about?” Jaxon doesn’t sit down. I know that sigil’s getting painted whether I like it or not. “Even an old asshole like youhasto see all the coincidences, right? These two are connected.”

“Coincidences, yes.” Ambrose is quiet, thoughtful. I understand his concern, I do. He’s older than both of us, by a lot, and that means he’s survived a lot. It means he’s been careful. I trust his advice. Mama never told me who my father was, just that he was another Hunter, and Ambrose stepped into that role nice and tidy.

So when he speaks, I listen. Even if my heart likes what Jaxon’s saying, too.

“Maybe there’s something to it,” Ambrose says slowly. “You and this girl. You sure she’s human?”

I know what he means. But I shake my head. “She’s not one of us,” I say. “Not a Hunter.” She smells like prey, when I breathe in her scent. She reacts to my touch like prey.

That’s why she’s so fucking appealing, but I don’t tell Ambrose. If she were one of us, another Hunter, then she wouldn’t be my Edie. I wouldn’t want her so badly. I’m not certain of much, but I’m certain of that.

Ambrose’s frown deepens even more. “You’re young,” he says softly. “But even you have to understand our kind isn’t meant to get tender about humans.”

I lean back in my chair. Wrap my fingers around the beer can. “I know that,” I mutter.But she’s different.

I don’t know how, exactly. Maybe those gods of Jaxon’s are real after all. Maybe they did tie us together that night, my blood-coated arms wrapped around her shoulders. Maybe I’m meant to protect her.

I definitely don’t saythatto Ambrose.

Instead, I just knock back a long drink of beer. It’s gone warm and flat. “Mama always said the same thing,” I tell them. “But Idon’t know. Edie—” I look through the grimy window at the forest outside, the leaves already browning at the edges.

She’s different.

“She didn’t call the cops.”

Ambrose scoffs. Jaxon says something about that podcast he listened to, about the story she spun out for the real world, the one about me trying to kill her. Says it proves his theory. Because what sort of human lies to protect one of us?

He has a point.

“Just be careful,” Ambrose says. “That’s all I’m asking.”

And I know he’s right.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

EDIE

Every time I look at my phone, I get this sick feeling in my stomach, like today is going to be the day that I learn that Scott has found me, that he’s sending someone to Virginia. Or worse, that it will be the day Charlotte doesn’t check in. And what would I do then? I couldn’t stay here. Not if I thought Scott had gotten to her.

He hasn’t gotten to her, though. It’s been two and half weeks since I first arrived at the campground, and every day she messages me, as reliable as an alarm clock.

Charlotte

Have you eaten yet?

Charlotte

Bought some more shit with your card!

Charlotte

Still no word from Scott’s lapdogs.