“So… what? You’ve always known you were going to grow up to be the Alpha Male some day?”
“What I’ve always known is my life isn’t mine to live.” He dismissed me and my million questions by turning to his elderly aunt. “You know what we intend to do?” he asked her.
There was absolutely no apprehension coming from the old lady who once could have been an Alpha herself. “You’re going to right what has been wrong for far too many years.”
That sounded so much better than “kill them”.
Liam nodded. “There may be others coming here in the coming weeks. Can you promise their location and identities are kept from The Den?”
“I will continue as I always have, providing shelter and safety for those who seek it.”
Something in my chest clenched at the realization that this was it. This was where we would make our last stand and fight for the future of Shifters and Seers the world over against unbeatable odds.
This is where I would sacrifice my life so no one else would have to pointlessly die.
Liam’s thoughts must have gone to the same place. “Will we win?”
“Fate is on your side,” Rachel said. “How could you not?”
Chapter 25
There were no mirrors in Canada. Well, of course there are mirrors in the country of Canada, but there weren’t any in our tiny cabin. Maybe if there had been, if I had seen the changes come over me slowly, I wouldn’t have quite so frightened by the person looking back at me from above the sink in one of the Safe House’s many bathrooms.
The basics of what make Scout Scout were still there - the silvery blond hair (which had grown out into a rather wretched Friar Tuck hairstyle); the pale skin (although the forty-five minute shower had managed to put a little color in my cheeks); and the ice blue (bloodshot) eyes - but the rest of me was different. The lack of proper nutrition left me sharp and angular while the nonstop training corded my arms and legs with muscles. I never considered myself soft and feminine before, but compared to the hard and hungry warrior in the mirror, high school Scout was a Disney Princess.
I leaned in closer, fascinated by the dark circles under my eyes. How did they get there? What was the dark stuff? Skin discoloration? Bruises? The dark parts of my soul coming to the surface?
I kept tilting forward until my forehead tapped against the glass and closed my eyes. I thought about just staying like that for the rest of ever, but despite the desire to collapse on the linoleum and take a little nap, I went in search of Liam. Again I got a hint of emotion, one that somehow felt like Liam instead of me, telling me he wanted to be left alone. It made me hesitate, but not for long. There was too much for us to discuss before I could actually go to sleep. I followed his scent up to the second floor. He didn’t answer when I tapped on his door, and a test of the knob proved it to be locked.
“He’s sleeping,” a female voice said from my left. I swung around, already crouched down to pounce.
“Whoa. Sorry.” Michelle stood with her hands raised in the air in the classic surrender pose. “I thought you knew I was here.”
I ran a hand through my very wet, very ugly hair. “I should have.” Crap. I was so focused on Liam and all the stuff happening inside my head I didn’t take the time to adequately survey my surroundings. Stupid mistake. Sure, this place was supposed to be a Shifter Sanctuary or whatever, but if there was one thing I learned over the past year and a half is that I should take nothing for granted. There were always surprises. Things always went wrong.
People I trusted always locked me out.
I glared at the door, weighing the advantages of ripping the damn thing off its hinges.
“I thought you were going back to the library.” Better to the leave the door in one piece for now. There was no doubt Michelle would report the incident to Rachel. It wasn’t like I was scared of a little old lady or anything…
Okay. Fine. I’m a little bit afraid of one particular old lady.
“Went and came back already.” She grabbed the messenger bag she had strapped over her shoulder. “I have something for you.”
I accepted the bag, which was weighed down with books and papers. “What’s this?”
“Research.” Michelle nodded towards a window seat at the end of the hall. I thought it might be a ploy to get away from Liam, but there was no way a few feet were going to make a difference. He wouldn’t even have to try to overhear our conversation from that distance, but I didn’t bother telling Michelle. I did accept the invitation to sit down, though. Actually, I wasn’t opposed to having the conversation with me curled up on the gigantic cushion, even though it would mean that I would fall asleep after the first two sentences were uttered.
Liam was probably just as exhausted as I was. And he probably knew there was a chance one of them would come back. That’s why he locked the door. It wasn’t like he was trying to avoid me or anything.
And I was going to keep telling myself that until I believed it.
“I’m guessing this isn’t the new JR Ward novel,” I said, taking out a large book with an old fabric covering. “Armstrong Line doesn’t really sound like one of her titles. Maybe Strong Armed Lover, but that’s not quite the same.”
Michelle’s eyes narrowed from where she stood above me. “Aren’t you a little young to be reading JR Ward?”
“Aren’t I a little young to be attempting to overthrow a centuries old government?”
“Touché.” Michelle didn’t melt down into the cushions like I did. No, she perched rather smartly on the edge, her back straight and shoulders back. I took a moment to wonder if she had attended Catholic school. I always imagined the nuns made their students sit like that. “That’s why I’m here, actually. Do you know who Reginald Armstrong was?”
“Should I?”
Michelle took the book from my hands and flipped through until she was just a few pages from the end. “Here,” she said, handing the book back. The pages were set up ledger style, all the writing done by hand. She pointed to the top of a page where the name “Reginald Armstrong” was written in red ink.
“Ooookay…”
“The names written below are those of his children.”
I scanned the list. Lois. Evelyn. Gladys.
Wait.
“Gladys Armstrong. I know that name.” How did I know that name?