“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Evening came, and we didn’t get any calls. No one had spotted Carl after the KNOB attack. Hardin said she’d put a stakeout at his and Meg’s house, but the place seemed to be empty. That meant Carl and Meg had run for the hills. They could be anywhere now. Arturo and Rick would be waking soon. Arturo would do something—he wouldn’t sit back while Rick challenged him. The trouble was, I couldn’t guess what he’d do, where he’d send his people, who he’d attack first. I had to wait for a call.
I was becoming a control freak. It was part of leading a pack.
Ben made chicken and pasta for supper. He was a decent cook—yet another reason to keep him around. But I couldn’t eat. I stood by the door to the balcony, staring out. From the table, where two sets of plates and utensils were set out with a ceramic bowl of food in the middle, he pestered. “You need to eat.”
“I can’t.”
“You should.”
Pouting, I sounded like a spoiled child. “I just can’t.”
He dropped his fork on his plate, making a ringing noise. The silence after was rigid with tension. After a long moment he said, “I wish I could fix everything. I wish I could make it all go away. But I can’t. So I thought, I’ll make dinner. Maybe that’ll help. But I guess not.”
He wore a white T-shirt, jeans. His light brown hair was a bit too long, rumpled from him running his hands through it. His face was lined, tired. Full of character. He looked like a freaking rock star. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I wanted to cling to him like a leech.
“Thank you,” I said, on impulse. “Thanks for standing by me.”
The smile grew wider, and he bowed his head. “Well, you know. We’re—”
I held up a hand to stop him. “Don’t . . . say it. Just don’t.”
“I don’t know what else to say.” Roughly, he stood from the table. Grabbed the bowl of pasta and shoved it into the fridge. The whole appliance rattled. I was relieved, though; for a moment I thought he was going to throw it.
“You don’t have to say anything.”
But he kept going, coming out to the living room. “Maybe you’re right, maybe you’ve been right all along, that if we weren’t both werewolves we wouldn’t be together. That we’d have no reason to be together.”
“I never—”
He waved me off with a frustrated brush of his arm. “No, I know you’ve never said it. But you’ve been thinking it right from the start. And I wanted you to be wrong. I wanted to prove you wrong. But hey—you’re never wrong.”
“Ben!”
But he was already marching back to the bedroom, where he slammed the door behind him. I curled up on the sofa and covered my face with my hands. What happened if I won this war, yet lost everything I was trying to save?
When my cell phone, sitting on the coffee table, rang, my brain rattled. All my nerves twitched. It was like I forgot what to do with it, then I rushed to answer.
“Good morning,” said Rick.
And so it starts. “Hi.”
“What’s been happening? Anything from Carl?”
“He went after KNOB,” I said.
“And?”
This was actually almost working. I ought to be pleased. “Hardin has four of his wolves in custody. Carl got away. Hardin has people looking but they haven’t found him.” I’m not sure I wanted them to. I wasn’t sure they could handle a cornered wolf.
“And you’re all right? Your people are all right?”
I hesitated, then decided there’d be time for the long version later. “I’m fine. We’re all fine. Anything happening on your end?”
“Yes. Charlie and Violet saw Arturo leave Obsidian. I want to move in while he’s gone,” he said, and his voice was too calm. Vampiric, I realized. The city could be crumbling around him and his tone wouldn’t change.