Page 31

I nterrogating someone shouldn’t have taken this long.

Perhaps this was another way he was stalling our journey—and I knew for a fact he was, to some extent. No doubt he thought I would abandon him once we were in the safety of Aelthorin. I hadn’t decided if that fear of his was well-founded or not.

I watched from the car, perched on the passenger’s side dashboard for the best view. The windows were rolled halfway down, letting in the cool night breeze. Crickets chirped in the grass, and mossy tree branches groaned in the wind. I saw him standing there, an imposing silhouette next to a slightly stockier man, both of them outlined by the warm glow spilling from the second-floor windows.

Glamour was effective with humans—he had proven that many times over, even with his unusual brand of it. He could convince them to share information, give costly items away at no charge, or even forget recent memories. But stars , getting information out of this man would be so much quicker if he were held off the second story of the garage balcony by the back of his shirt.

I whispered a spell—the most familiar words my lips knew apart from the names of my children. I played with a small, crackling orb of flames between my palms, resisting the urge to fly through the window and question the human myself. The threat of being scorched alive usually yielded abrupt honesty.

But that would wake Hazel .

I leaned to peer at the backseat where my child of eleven summers was curled up, sleeping in a nest of white fleece blankets. Her scarlet curls popped against the white belly of the stuffed rabbit she snuggled against. Though it was three times her size, she insisted on sleeping with it each night, enamored. She loved all the gifts that Mother’s friend lavished her with, too young to understand yet that they were tokens of a guilty conscience.

A soft sigh escaped me. It was a wonder that Hazel was able to sleep so soundly at all, with the chaos of the last two months. Months —the thought struck me again like a blow. How had the weeks bled together?

At first, our upended life had been a constant state of frantic movements and frayed nerves—suddenly learning to relocate from place to place like nomads. Hazel had been so petrified, barely speaking for a week. These days, she eagerly peered out the car windows at every opportunity instead of staying plastered against my side. She asked questions of him with enthusiasm, hanging on his every word.

I extinguished the fire and rubbed my face in my hands. She deserves to know.

Looking back outside, I stiffened at movement edging near our vehicle. One of the roaming dogs sniffed urgently and circled the car. I hissed for it to shoo , relieved when I spotted the humans wrapping up their conversation. If Hazel woke up and saw an animal, I’d have no chance of wrestling her excitement back into slumber. The taller man pointed at the stairs, and the stockier one turned and marched up them. Thank the stars . The two roaming dogs followed after their owner, bounding past the stranger in their midst.

I braced myself as the driver’s door opened and he slid behind the wheel, settling into the seat. My heart ached the way it did every time I looked at him—even when his back was turned to me.

“Under new management,” he announced without preamble. “This guy is a cousin of the previous shop owner. He wasn’t able to give me more than a vague secondhand description of a couple of men that passed through here two weeks ago, but I’d put money on it—those drifters are who we’re after.”

“So they survived the accident,” I breathed. My stomach still clenched as I remembered the police report I’d skimmed on the laptop. I could only hope Sylvia was still with Jon and Cliff, equally unscathed.

He nodded. “Seems like the car took the worst of it. They scrapped what was left of the last one for a vintage Challenger .”

I wilted. That stupid car was the only reason we’d been able to tail them this far. Now, Sylvia may as well have vanished into thin air. “So, this was a waste of time.”

“You know, it’s hurtful how little faith you have in me.” He held up his cell phone, which displayed a series of numbers and letters typed into the Notes screen. “Our friend was able to provide the new plates. Once I plug this in, we’ll be back on track.”

He started the car and pulled off the property, leaving the yellowed Gulf Coast Auto sign diminishing in the rearview mirror. He was right to move quickly—getting out of sight before the glamour wore off and that human noticed a stranger idling in the lot at half past midnight.

The road was narrow and winding, barely large enough for two vehicles to fit side by side. Tall oaks lined both sides, their spider-like branches blotting out what little moonlight we had. As he drove, he typed quickly into his phone, finger and thumb moving with a practiced ease. I knew the program he used was something very niche, and definitely illegal . He’d tried explaining the technology to me more than once, but it still went over my head despite my best efforts. All I understood was that it worked, and that was enough for now.

The app chimed—a cold, unnatural melody breaking the quiet. He slid the phone into the navigation mount on the driver’s side, leaning back in his seat.

“We’ll have a hit soon, Mel.” His eyes darted to the rearview mirror. “She’s still asleep?”

I glanced over my shoulder, watching the tiny rise and fall of Hazel’s chest in the dim light. “Like a rock,” I said quietly.

He laughed—a warm, fond sound that made butterflies stir in my stomach. The way he cared about Hazel and Sylvia was the most attractive thing about him.

“You should get some shut-eye, too,” he said, glancing at me.

“ Shut-eye? ” I quirked a brow, smirking. “That’s a new one.”

“I don’t wanna hear it. That’s—It’s a very common saying.”

“It’s not the worst I’ve heard, by far. What was that other one you spouted—‘ bite the bullet’ ?” I wrinkled my nose, once again picturing the cold taste of metal between my teeth. “It’s just nonsensical.”

He chuckled again, a bit self-deprecating. When his eyes moved back to the road, I stole another look at him.

In the soft glow of the car’s dashboard, his features were illuminated—sharp, but weary, with shadows deepening the lines around his eyes. It suited him somehow. The years had been kind to him, where grief had not. Even the scarred remnants of the burn on his right cheek couldn’t dull his good looks. He was still achingly handsome in that way that was both regal and rugged. His tawny blond hair was cut tragically short,tapered on the sides with slightly more length at the top—a common human style that I hated to admire, though it framed his face well. His blue eyes were piercing and intelligent. He still had that broad-shouldered, athletic build that gave off a subtle but commanding presence—something he had always pretended to be unaware of.

And human. He was human now.

I stole another look at Hazel. Still asleep.

Squaring my shoulders, I shifted to face the driver’s seat fully. “I think it’s time we told her, Tristan.”

His silence surprised me. Tristan shot me a hard look, studying me. He rubbed his eyes with one hand. “Don’t toy with me.”

“You think I would throw these words around carelessly?”

Tristan leveled his frown at the road ahead. “What changed your mind?”

The cautious hope and suspicion in his deep voice flayed my heart. He was right to be wary. I wouldn’t spare him.

“If we’re only weeks behind the hunters now, that means our time together is drawing to a close,” I said. “I don’t think Hazel would forgive me if she heard the story after your departure. She deserves to have her questions answered by you. Things I can’t tell her.”

He nodded stiffly, and among everything else, I knew he could focus only on my admission that I intended for us to part ways.

“You know it has to be this way,” I said. “No amount of stalling will stop the inevitable.”

“She grew up so much,” Tristan answered softly. “Can you blame me for wanting more time? Last I saw her, she couldn’t even fly.”

“And whose fault is that?” I snapped. The pain that washed over him was bone-deep. No matter how I tried to tell myself he deserved to wallow with me in the pain he had caused, I softened slightly. “Hazel has grown fond of you, even as a stranger. She’ll be glad to know who you really are. She’ll be thrilled you’re alive and well. Is that not enough?”

He chuckled humorlessly. “Alive, yes. But I can’t say I was well until you told me to come find you.”

Silence stretched between us. I watched him carefully. Tristan’s eyes were far away, perhaps scripting precisely what he would tell Hazel—as if he hadn’t already done it in secret for weeks .

“Is your decision final?” he asked after a heavy sigh.

Yes , I wanted to bite out. Once I have both of my girls, I no longer have to suffer your presence .

But I couldn’t. I was so tired of lying.

“When we find Sylvia, we’ll talk again.”