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Anson lay with his back flat on the couch, staring at the wooden panels in the ceiling.

Logs popped and crackled in the wood-burning stove, the only sound he could hear—aside from Nari snoring.

She wasn’t the worst he had ever heard, and it was intermittent, but with the dead silence around him, the sound stood out.

He thought back to the conversation he overheard between Nari and the male agent last night.

Did they know he was awake? Was it part of some other act she was putting on?

Anson wanted to trust Nari, he really did, but a part of him—the part twisted by Dr. Grimm’s emotional abuse— wouldn’t let him.

Dr. Grimm had worked himself into Anson’s mind like an insidious parasite.

He wormed his way in there, leaving Anson doubting the motives of everyone he interacted with.

It was such a slow process that he didn’t realize it had happened until it was too late.

This must be what it feels like to be brainwashed.

And if Dr. Grimm wasn’t around to tell him what to think, he doubted himself, too. All he wanted was Ariel back.

The watery light of sunrise filtered through the front window of the cabin as the sun edged its way along the mountain peaks in the distance.

Anson’s stomach growled. He tried to prop himself up on an elbow, sending a shooting pain through his arm and shoulder.

Though he felt better than yesterday, he still had a lot of healing to go.

Standing was easier. His legs had somehow come out unscathed during the crash.

The rest of his body still felt like someone had put him in a vise and squeezed.

Walking proved more challenging, as his bruised core was not pleased to be helping his body balance.

The pounding in his head returned, although much improved from last night.

It was more a dull throb in his right temple.

Anson assured himself it was not a stroke, though the anxious voice that never left his head told him he’d be dead before Nari woke.

That voice did nothing for his nerves. Ever.

Anson found his way to the bathroom and washed up, cleaning off dried blood and dirt that remained from the previous day. He was pleased to see Nari had laid out a new toothbrush—still in the packaging—and toothpaste.

Done in the bathroom, he went to the kitchen and started rearranging things before he even realized what he was doing.

He had to align everything so that it was just right.

Whatever that meant, he was never sure until he found it—often he didn’t and found himself rearranging things for hours.

It seemed to ease that anxious voice in his head, at least for a moment.

When one of his rituals started, he’d find it easier to stop breathing than stop rearranging things.

Anxiety had been present throughout most of his life, before he even knew what it was.

But something changed with it soon after his dealings with Dr. Grimm.

Maybe it even slowly crept in when they first realized Ariel was sick.

Anson felt that if he didn’t make his bed a certain way, Ariel would get sicker.

If his shoes weren’t lined up in the correct order, she might die.

He had to stomp his feet before entering a building, or he’d bring some sort of contamination in.

He knew it didn’t make any sense, yet he couldn’t stop.

He tried to hide it from his mother. Ariel noticed. She always noticed things like that.

Anson was too embarrassed to admit anything was wrong.

Besides, Ariel was the one sick and in the hospital most of the time.

She started feeling not so great in her early teens, and it only got worse.

When it reached its peak, she lost her ability to shift.

Dr. Sampson was the one who identified her rare genetic disorder.

And she got better after his treatments. At first, anyway.

Ariel caught Anson rearranging her get-well cards by the window one day.

He tried to brush it off. Then she noticed the number of times he had to tap his watch.

Anson reassured her it was just a tick. When he stopped himself from repeatedly tapping his watch, he had to wash his hands more.

Whenever he tried to change the routine or behavior, it seemed to pop up somewhere new in a different way.

But it was all for the same reason. To stop his anxiety.

To make the voice of worry quiet down, at least for a second.

Now it felt like his anxiety controlled him.

“Little good it did,” he said aloud. Ariel was taken all the same. Though that didn’t stop his quirky behavior. It strengthened it.

“What are you doing?”

Anson dropped the plastic spice container he was moving when Nari popped out of seemingly nowhere.

It hit the floor and rolled under the round kitchen table.

He’d have to rinse it off at least five times to decontaminate it.

He sighed. In the shape he was in, it was a miracle he could stand.

Bending over to get an item off the ground seemed an impossible feat.

“I’m just cleaning up.” The words sounded sharper than he intended as irritation shaped his tone.

“How are you feeling?” Her brown eyes followed Anson’s hands as he turned all the labels of the cans in the cupboard in the same direction, stacking a few when it felt like the right thing to do.

There was no other way to explain it, aside from knowing it just felt right .

If Nari found his rearranging things strange, she didn’t let on.

But he felt self-conscious with her watching. Embarrassment burned on his cheeks.

“Better. I still have a headache and my arm hurts, but not as bad as yesterday.” He fiddled around with the can of tuna longer than he wanted to.

No matter where he put it, it didn’t seem right.

Anson gave up, leaving the can alone on the counter with the spices.

That wasn’t where it belonged either, but he was starting to get frustrated.

Maybe that was because Nari was watching.

He sighed. It would be easier if he asked her to leave, but then she might wonder what he was up to even more.

“I’m glad you’re better.”

“Thanks. Are you doing okay?” He eyed up Nari in the sweatsuit she’d found in the cabin supplies. Though the ensemble was max casual, she still looked like she could be a magazine model in it. Nari could probably make wearing a paper bag look sexy.

“Yeah, I’m feeling right as rain. Do you need help?

” An innocent look crossed her beautiful face.

She gave a warm smile that touched her dark brown eyes.

Anson wished there was something Nari could do to ease his anxiety.

It was a vise on his chest, shallowing his breath and threatening to usher in panic.

“No,” he said quietly while shaking his head gently.

At least his neck didn’t hurt today. “You can’t help me with this.

” She was about to open her mouth to say something else when a chime sounded on her phone.

“What’s that?” he asked, wondering if she would be honest about her meeting with that agent last night.

By the sound of it, he’d woken up in the middle of their conversation, so he’d pretended to sleep.

So now he just waited to see if she was trustworthy.

Would she even admit she had an agent in the house last night?

“A text from FUC.”

He felt his brow crease. So, she wasn’t going to say anything. That was disappointing.

As if noticing his shift in emotions, Nari cleared her throat.

She brushed her long hair back from her face, locking her beautiful eyes on his.

His heart pounded in his chest. Though why, he wasn’t sure.

A sheepish smile crossed her face. “I hope you’re not upset with me, but I had Agent Stone in here last night.

He was out there watching over the place, and we took a moment to catch up on the case. ”

“Hmmm.” Maybe he judged Nari too quickly. He wanted to ask her for any information on the case, to see if she’d share any intelligence FUC had gathered, but he decided to let her take the lead in what she wanted to tell him.

“He’s going to come back this morning with some food—something better than the nonperishables in the pantry.”

“Just him?” Anson asked, wary of the idea of the cabin filled with FUC and their inquisitive stares.

“Him and Cass—Agent Sparks.” She put her hands up as if in surrender. So far, she was being honest. Maybe he could trust her. Nari could have lied and told him she texted them this morning to ask the agents to come out. Anson wished he knew what to do.

“To only drop off food?” Anson asked, wondering why Nari thought that the agents who had been interrogating him over the past few months stopping by would ease his mind.

Did she expect them all to sit around the fire and sing “Kumbaya”?

Maybe she thought he’d be better with familiar faces.

Though he wasn’t thrilled with them joining them at the cabin, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

As long as they didn’t put him in the hot seat again.

The red-haired agent scared him a little. Not that he would admit that to Nari.

“And medical supplies. You need a splint for that arm.” She pointed at his sore arm. He wondered if it was still fractured. It probably was. Shifters healed pretty quick, but fusing bones was different from skin knitting itself back together. It took more time.

He snorted and immediately grabbed for his ribs. Maybe he wasn’t as healed up as he hoped. “Damn it.” At this rate, he would never rescue his sister.

As if reading his mind, Nari softly said, “We’ll get her back.”