“So we go around him. We go to River, see if we can get him to tell us the name of the Tracer who actually performed the rewrite.”
I leaned across the table. “Even if I thought River would go against your uncle, which I don’t, it’s too dangerous right now. There’s a mole on the Council. We have no idea who we can trust.”
Dallas rubbed the faint silver scar at the crease of his lip, lowering his voice until it was barely audible over the din of busboys stacking plates over by the stairs. “My goddamn uncle is the bastard in charge of this entire territory and my brother is his henchman. And damn straight I’m not going to rest until I convince them they’re wrong on this. The wolf’s out of the bag. The public knows we exist now and there’s no going back. There’s no keeping this a secret, and continuing to hurt innocent people like your mom or Hayden’s sister because we’re lying to ourselves and pretending it buys us a few more days or weeks isn’t any way I want to survive.”
I stared across the table at him, chest heaving. No way was I telling him I’d nearly gone before the full Council yesterday, tried to negotiate a deal to free my mother’s memories. I’d made it an hour south of Plano before my phone buzzed with a pissed off text, demanding to know what the hell I was thinking. I’d pulled over. We’d talked. And what had followed had been one of the longest and weirdest conversations I’d ever had with River. I wasn’t sure what he was being forced to do on the Council. But something definitely wasn’t right.
Was it a mercy, River had asked, to be able to forget? Maybe that was what he told himself in the seconds before he stole threads of people’s lives. But memory was a hazy mirror with no sharp edges, only endless surfaces to drown in. And every time I forgot and let an oven door slam too hard, caught the shadow of an unfamiliar figure crossing beneath the awning on the sidewalk outside and heard my mother’s pulse spike, I knew. There was no forgetting. The werewolf community, in our desperation to survive the coming war with humans, a conflict in which we were far outnumbered, infinitely outmatched in terms of firepower and military might, and with no way to hide save for disappearing into crowds that would turn on us with clubs and silver-loaded firearms in a heartbeat, had failed to question whether some acts came at too great a cost. Whether at some point we’d become the monsters they’d made us out to be.
I thought of River’s warning. Don’t defy the Council. You don’t know what you’re playing at. You’re like a sister to me. I wouldn’t want to see anything happen to you.
“We should wait, talk to your brother before we do anything.”
Dallas frowned, but nodded. “Okay. I’ll follow your lead. And if that means you and I have to stay a secret for the time being, to make things safe for Juliet, then we’ll do whatever it takes. I just want to be with you, Lacey.”
He stroked my fingers, the bond humming between us. Pulse quickening, I stared at the flickering tea lights, heart hammering in my chest. “We wouldn’t tell anyone, you mean.”
“It wouldn’t be like that. My family would know. The pack would know.”
I balled my cloth napkin into a knot under the table. Dallas could be so blindly hopeful sometimes, and right now, all he was seeing were the possibilities. A way we could finally be together no matter how improbable or fraught with risks that solution might be. Not me in five years, still sneaking out of my studio apartment for late-night hookups. Not me lying to my mother just like I did now while he got to tell his family the truth. Christmases and birthdays spent apart. Me, watching the town’s Fourth of July fireworks display alone from my mother’s picnic blanket, while pretending not to notice Dallas and his brothers sitting a few yards away with boxes of fried chicken and buttery corn. A future without any possibility of children, shared homes or shared lives. Without any possibility of us.
And I knew in that instant if I said yes, it would always be this way. Sneaking around. Lying. Being Dallas’s dirty little secret.
Just like I’d been Ethan’s.
“I don’t want to keep living a lie. I want it to be real.”
All the candles in the room seemed to flicker at once, a cold draft ghosting in from the open fire escape in the corner leading up to the street.
Dallas leaned across the table, biceps stretching the expensive fabric of his dress shirt. “It wouldn’t be forever. Just until we can figure out a way to bypass the Council.”
The condensation edging my water glass began to blur, and I realized with a start I was crying. Dallas swore.
“Lacey—”
He rose from his chair, forced to duck under the low ceiling as he came around the table towards me. I shook my head, needing to get out of there, needing to breathe.
In the restroom, I pressed cool paper towels to the back of my neck, trying to calm down. My phone chimed. I blinked back a fresh wave of tears and swiped the screen, assuming it was Dallas.
But it wasn’t.
West: You okay? Sorry I didn’t call earlier. Picked up that thing you asked for. You’re welcome, btw.
Me: I am officially your cupcake wench.
West: Like you weren’t already.
Three blinking dots appeared.
West: But just between the two of us, I think you’d feel better if you told him.
My pulse picked up. Swiping a hand under my eyes, I tapped out a reply.
Me: I have to be sure. And you promised not to say anything.
Grabbing a last handful of towels from the dispenser, I cleaned my face and pushed out into the restaurant, but not before one last message came in.
West: I won’t. Just be careful. Secrets have a way of coming out. And in this family, never in a good way.
* * *
Hipster college town Austin, Texas was famous for its quirky traditions. People swam in all-natural Barton Springs even when it was freezing out. University of Texas students lit the Tower orange every time they won a football game. The white squirrels on campus were not only considered good luck, they had their own social media following. The only fast food Austinites possibly liked better than breakfast tacos? That would be the local Whataburger.
Zilker Park sprawled over multiple acres right where the river wound lazily through the middle of town. Featuring botanical gardens, fields for kite flying and soccer, playgrounds and even its own train, it was beloved for Saturday afternoon cookouts and free community theater performances every summer on the hillside. Built on one of Austin’s historic moon towers, every December the Zilker Park tree was strung with over three thousand electric bulbs suspended on streamers, fanning out to a diameter of over one hundred and twenty feet at their base.
Y’all know the saying. Everything’s bigger in Texas.
Dallas and I edged our way through a sea of thousands of people watching a giant yule log spitting tongues of orange sparks up into the night sky. A fleet of food trucks was set up in a wide circle, the smell of funnel cakes, powdered sugar and roasted corn so thick in the air it made my mouth water. The tree loomed ahead in the distance, the brilliant star at its peak beaming out over Lady Bird Lake.
“It’s nearly nine,” Dallas shouted into my ear over the hum of the gas generators.
“We’ll be fine.” I pulled the red and white striped wool hat from my bag and tugged it on, pretty sure at five foot nine and with my black sweater, leggings and fur-lined boots, the pompom made me look ridiculous. But it was how Brody’s contact would identify us.