Bride (Ali Hazelwood) by Ali Hazelwood

            “She’s with the ginger. The girl, not the guy.”

            “Juno. I know.”

            “Apparently, she doesn’t quite have the whole turning-into-a-beast-and-then-back-into-a-person thing down, and she’s still working on controlling her . . . I don’t fucking know, wolfy impulses. Red took her for a run to—”

            “I know,” I repeat. I’m still worried. “And it’s not ‘turn.’ ”

            “What do you mean?”

            “The Weres prefer the term ‘shift.’ ”

            He gives me an appalled glance, like I’m a first-row nerd yelling Teacher, pick me! and then stops in front of a closed door. “I saw your face when I stepped into the office. You thought I was going to screw you over, didn’t you?”

            I resist the temptation to avert my gaze. “You did come in holding my husband captive.”

            “That was his idea. I called him about an hour after you guys drove away—we were finally able to get footage of the break-in in Serena’s apartment.”

            So that’s why Lowe left after we . . . better not think about that. “Let me guess—it was Mick.”

            He nods. “I showed Lowe the recordings, and he immediately recognized him. Misery, he freaked the fuck out.”

            “Yeah, Mick and Lowe go way back—”

            “No, he freaked out because he knew that you were with Mick. I thought your boy toy was a pretty even-tempered guy, but he’s actually bloodcurdling.”

            I don’t bother to deny it. “And what did you do?”

            “The Weres were still monitoring the governor to see what his next step would be, and he made a call to Father. At that point, it became clear that they were collaborating on something, and that Mick was aiding them. Lowe told me to call Father and lie—the story was that once you and Mick disappeared, Lowe contacted me to find you because he thought I might be willing to help, and instead I took him captive. You’ve seen the rest.” He squints at me. “Again, it was his idea.”

            “I didn’t say anything—”

            “I’m not going to screw you over, Misery.”

            I nod, feeling almost close to my twin. It’s long forgotten, but familiar. “Neither will I.”

            “Very well, then.” He points at the door. “You ready?” He doesn’t say what’s inside, but I already know.

            Lowe is wearing a pair of jeans he must have found somewhere, and nothing else. He turns our way when we come in, but remains leaning against the wall, patient. A few feet from him there is a chair and, cuffed to it, a Vampyre.

            Father.

            He’s covered in blood, mostly purple, but then again—so am I. And so is Owen, and everyone else who was in that office during the carnage. When Alex arrived on the scene, his first question to me was whether all the blood was making me hungry. Once we’re back in Were territory, I plan to smear a pancake on the inside of a toilet and ask him the same.

            If I ever go back to the Weres.

            My eyes meet Lowe’s, briefly and for entirely too long. What passes between us is too combustible a moment not to glance away immediately.

            “You okay?” he asks.

            No. “Yeah. You?”

            “Yeah.” He means no, but for now it doesn’t matter.

            Father is blindfolded, I assume to save some moron from wandering in and getting themselves thralled within an inch of their life. The headphones they put on him must be noise canceling, but he knows exactly who’s in the room, from heartbeats and blood scent alone. His enforcers are gone, and so is his power. For the first time in his adult life, he’s defenseless. I close my eyes and wait for feelings of any kind to hit me.

            None arrive.

            “May I?” Owen asks cordially, pointing at Father. Lowe nods, observing him calmly as he rips off the blindfold and the headphones. Owen crouches down, sitting on his haunches. It’s my first time witnessing an interaction like this one: my brother as the active, dynamic part, and Father restrained and unmoving. Weak. Losing.