“Eve’s right,” said Serena softly. “People need to know what happened. We need to find proof.”
“Not at the risk of losing you,” said Trey. “If Harper and Sheffield hadn’t shown up yesterday . . .” His mouth twisted around Jason’s name as though the admission left a bitter taste on his tongue.
“All the more reason to stay and find out if those men are connected to CutterBrown. You heard what Mac said about leverage.” She hesitated, then added, “Besides, you want to know what Amy was hiding, too. I know you do.” She stood and put a hand on her brother’s arm. “Eve’s right: finding proof could change everything. And I need people to know what they did to me. I need to know what they did to me.”
Next to her brother, Serena was tiny—a mouse next to a lion—but the determination on her face was more than a match for Trey’s physical strength.
She stared at him and waited.
After a long moment, Trey sighed, swore, and then nodded.
“Thank you,” Serena breathed, sitting back down.
“Don’t thank me,” said Trey miserably. “For all I know, this is the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.” He didn’t look at any of us. “I think I’ll go check the radio in Kyle’s car, see if I can find out anything about those trucks Dobs saw.”
“You do realize my father is going to kill you, right?” I asked Eve as Trey headed down the hall.
“Serves Curtis right.” Eve toyed with a pewter charm on a leather cord around her neck. The small disc had been engraved with a symbol that resembled three interlocking teardrops. It was the symbol of Hank’s pack. I had worn a similar one on Amy’s bracelet while in Thornhill. Eve was one of the few wolves who knew about my father’s past. Everyone else believed he was Curtis Hanson, an alias he had adopted after becoming infected. “He’s been keeping so many secrets since the breakout that he can’t say three words without two of them contradicting. Besides,” she added cryptically, “the National Guard and the Trackers aren’t the only ones flooding Hemlock.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” My voice was sharp; I was emotionally exhausted and way too tired for riddles.
“Curtis and the other pack leaders are planning something for the rallies. Something big. He won’t tell anyone what. Not even me. No matter how much I ask.” She kicked at a piece of chipped tile. “He’s never not trusted me before.”
I wanted to tell Eve not to take it personally, that Hank didn’t really trust anyone, but she looked so miserable that I kept the comment to myself.
“Anyway,” she said, “he sent Dex to Chicago and a bunch of wolves to Atlanta and New York. More are headed here. He told them they’d find out what was going on when they got where they were going. That was a week ago. And it’s not just the Eumon. Other packs are sending people to almost every place a rally is being held. Small groups—usually no more than five or six—but if every pack is sending them . . .”
“It would be a small army,” breathed Serena. “Maybe even enough to attack the rallies.”
I shook my head. My father had a lot of flaws, but stupidity had never been one of them. He had to know that a hit on the rallies would result in an even bigger backlash against wolves. “Attacking the rallies would just make things worse. Hank knows that.” But even as the words left my mouth, I thought about how adamant he had been that I leave Hemlock before Monday night.
Something was coming. Something he didn’t want me anywhere near.
“Things can’t get much worse, Mac,” said Eve. Her expression settled into something hard and sad. “We’re being hunted down and exterminated, and the news is only reporting a fraction of what’s happening. If Hank and the other pack leaders don’t do something . . .” She ran a hand over her wrist, over the scars she had gotten when she became infected. “The way things are going, the wolves we broke out of Thornhill might have been safer where they were; at least Sinclair was only killing a few at a time.”
I stared at her in disbelief. “There’s no way you believe that.”
Her shoulders sagged as she let out a deep breath. “No. I guess not. Not yet. But I’m getting there. Things haven’t been as bad in cities where rallies are planned because the Trackers are trying not to rock the boat too much until they have their moment in the spotlight. Everywhere else, though, it’s open season on anyone who’s infected. Trackers wiped out an entire pack in Miami three days ago. A hundred and fifty wolves dead, and not one news outlet picked it up. I passed through a town on my way here—some two-bit hick place I only pulled into because I needed gas.” She swallowed roughly. “It was dark, but I could see bodies hanging from trees by the town limit. A dozen of them. Maybe more. Some of them had signs around their necks, but I didn’t stop to read them. I just turned around and drove as fast as I could. I passed two more towns and was running on fumes before I felt safe enough to stop. And that’s just two places. Two stories out of hundreds. The country is tearing itself apart and no one wants to talk about it because no one wants to admit who the real monsters are.”
My stomach twisted as I pictured dozens of bodies swaying from trees. I knew I should say something, but I couldn’t find the words.
Eve sighed and glanced at Serena. Her eyes widened and her mouth formed a perfect, horrified O. “Jesus . . .”
I turned and then scrambled off the couch. “Trey!” I screamed for Serena’s brother as tracks of blood ran from her eyes and dripped onto her clothes.
I reached for her shoulder, but Eve grabbed my arm and yanked me back. “Don’t touch her, Jesus—whatever you do, don’t touch her.”
“Her blood can’t hurt me.” I struggled against Eve’s grip as she pulled me across the room. “Blood doesn’t transmit LS.”
“And werewolves don’t normally bleed from their goddamn eyes.” Eve wedged me into the corner as Trey burst through the door. “We don’t know what Sinclair did to her.”
Serena pushed herself to her feet. Trey? No sound came out as her lips formed her brother’s name. Thin rivers of blood began running from her nose and ears.
Trey caught her as a spasm rocked her body. Her head whipped back so hard and so fast that something cracked while blood hit the wall like a Rorschach test.