Chapter 83

The road through Cold Creek looked the same as ever. Empty, grey and glistening where the random ray of sunlight managed to push through the white clouds and hit the wet asphalt.

I passed the school, my hands locked around the wheel, my gaze lingering on the red brick and the parking lot a second too long. Ethan's car wasn't there, but then again, Ethan didn't drive to school every day. Still, the lack of it now filled me with quiet dread. Jack's directions moved through my head in his voice, precise and clear. Past the school. Drive straight through the town. Turn left at the split cedar. Stop at the stone with two white veins.

I found the split cedar exactly where he had said it would be, a lightning-scarred thing with its trunk opened in the middle like a wound that had never healed. The left trail narrowed almost immediately. Branches scraped the sides of the car. Gravel crunched beneath the tires. For a minute there I thought that I had misunderstood something and made the wrong turn, but then the trees thinned ahead and the old stone rose from the moss at the edge of the track.

Two white veins cut through the rock.

I stopped.

For several seconds, I sat with the engine running and stared at it. It did not look like much. A simple stone. A line in the ground I could not smell, could not feel, could not read, yet was forbidden to cross.

The house sat further back, in plain sight. A burning sensation in my chest reminded me to breathe. Ethan was there. Perhaps. My hands tightened around the wheel until my knuckles hurt.

I turned off the engine. The sudden silence landed too heavily. For a moment, I could not make myself move. Then I remembered Jack's last instruction, to get out and stand where they could see me, and forced myself out.

The air was cold and moist enough to pinch my cheeks. Mud at the edges of the gravel road sucked at the soles of my shoes when I stepped around the car and took my place beside the stone marker with my hands visible and my heart beating way too fast.

One minute passed. Then another.

At five minutes, I checked my phone again even though I already knew there were no messages. Ethan's thread sat open beneath my thumb, the last thing I had sent still unanswered. Nell's was the same. The unanswered lines looked more accusing in the morning light.

At ten minutes, my fear started sinking into dread. And just about then, the front door opened.

For a split second, I thought it would be Ethan. My whole body moved toward that hope before my mind could stop it.

Then Nell stepped outside.

She stood on the porch without moving, one hand still near the doorframe, her hair pulled back messily, her face pale in the morning light, shadows underneath her eyes similar to those I had seen in the mirror this morning. She saw me. For a moment, she just stood there watching me. Then she came down the steps and started toward me with a measured, determined stride, her eyes fixed on mine the whole time. Finally, she stopped a few paces away from me and the stone marker.

"Nell," I said, and her name cracked in my mouth. "What happened? Why didn't you answer my texts? Where is Ethan? Is he okay? Is he..."

I could not finish. The word alive sat in my throat like something too large to swallow.

Nell's face tightened. "He's alive."

The breath left me so hard I almost folded.

"He's alive," she said again, softer, as if she knew I needed to hear it twice before the meaning would hold. "He's hurt, but he's alive."

My hand went to my mouth. For a few seconds there was nothing else in the world except air, thin and moist and finally able to enter my lungs.

"What happened?" I whispered, although a part of me already knew.

Nell looked past me, toward the road I had come from, then back toward the house. Her jaw worked once.

"Your father came here last night," she said. "Although you probably knew that already. Or guessed, at least."

The jab hurt more than I allowed myself to admit.

Even though I suspected it was exactly what had happened, a part of me still hoped that it hadn't. Hearing Nell confirm it made my stomach turn.

"Did he..." I stopped again, because every question became worse before I could finish it.

"He challenged Ethan," Nell said.

I closed my eyes. The forest shifted around me, not moving, only becoming suddenly too large.

"No," I whispered.

Nell didn't respond.

"No," I repeated, this time louder, something in me finally breaking. "No... Not after everything. He was getting better." My voice broke and my vision blurred as the last pillar of my foolish hope collapsed. I opened my eyes. "He was better!"

Nell was the one to close her eyes now. She pinched the bridge of her nose.

"He didn't attack the house," she said. "He came to the boundary. He waited."

I blinked. "What?"

Nell nodded once. "He wanted Ethan. Not our father. He wasn't challenging Greystone alpha. He came for Ethan. And he waited by the line. That is intent." She paused. "He wasn't feral, Kelsey. He knew what he was doing. Or at least a part of him did."

I didn't know what was worse: losing Dad or knowing he had attacked Ethan deliberately. The sound that left me was low and undignified.

Nell's eyes glistened a little. "Ethan went out to him. They fought." She paused. "Ethan let your dad win."

The words struck me. "Why? Why would he do that?"

Nell lowered her shoulders. "Because it was your father."

The wound inside me burned hotter. I stepped forward without thinking.

Her palm hit the center of my chest before my foot crossed the marker, firm and immovable. The strength behind that small movement knocked the breath back into me more effectively than a shove.

"He's alive," she said quickly. "All right? Your dad backed off." A pause. "He could have killed him. He didn't. He also didn't inflict any permanent damage." She paused, letting the words settle. "It matters, Kelsey. In our world it matters a lot."

A shiver passed through my body. I couldn't deal with that now. "But he still hurt him?"

Nell's silence was the answer.

"How badly?"

She let out a breath. "Badly. But nothing permanent, thankfully. He'll heal, Kelsey. He's just in for a rough ride until he does."

I stared down at her hand. "Nell, let me see him."

"No."

My pulse slammed under her palm. "Nell, please. I need to see him."

She sighed. "I know," she said, and for the first time her voice shook. "That is why I am telling you. You cannot cross this line, Kelsey. Not now. If you take one step into our inner ring wearing Ethan's mark, I will not be the only one who comes out of that house."

The words went through me slowly. I looked past her again, toward the front door, toward the windows.

Her hand did not move from my chest. "And if they come out, this stops being me talking to you and it goes into places neither of us want it to go."

I swallowed. "At least tell me if he's awake? Does he know I'm here?"

"No." The ground seemed to sink beneath me. "Mom gave him pain medication, and he's sleeping now. He heals fast, Kelsey. Faster than you can imagine. He will recover."

I swallowed a sob. I wanted to believe her so badly. "Can you tell him I came?"

"I will."

"Can you tell him I know he didn't do the marking thing on purpose?"

The lines of her body loosened. She nodded, small relief spreading across her face.

"And please... can you tell him that I'm sorry?"

Nell's expression changed. "For what? You didn't do anything wrong."

I looked down. "For what my dad did. Please."

For a second, she looked as if she wanted to shake me. Then she let out a breath and lowered her hand from my chest.

"I'll tell him you came," she said. "I am not telling him you're sorry for something you didn't do."

I flinched. The words hit exactly where they meant to.

"Nell."

"No," she said, her voice low now, almost fierce. "You don't get to put that on him on top of everything else. He already has enough."

I looked away. The forest blurred.

"Go home," she said, softer. "He'll be all right. I'll message you later when I can."

"When you can," I echoed.

"When it won't make things worse."

I laughed once, without humor.

I stood there for another few seconds because turning away felt like abandoning him. Then I forced myself to step back from the marker. One step. Then another.

Nell stayed where she was, watching me like she did not trust the space between us to remain empty.

I had almost reached the car when she stiffened. The change in her body was so complete I turned before I knew why.

"What?"

She did not answer. Then I heard it.

A car. Not coming from the direction I had used, but from the broader road that curved up toward the Greystone drive. The engine was smooth, too controlled for the rutted track, and it slowed as it approached, tires crunching over gravel.

Nell's face went white. "Kelsey," she said. "Get in the car. Now."

My hand froze on the door handle. "What is it?"

"Now."

But it was too late.

A new car came around the bend before I could move.