"Everything's already weird," I sigh.
"Weirder, then."
Wraith signs to Whiskey. Even without knowing all his shorthand, the message is clear.I'll protect her. Always.
Whiskey's expression softens slightly. "Yeah, okay. I know you will."
Wraith nods once, curtly, then taps his chest twice with his fist before pointing at Whiskey and Plague. The gesture is oddly formal, almost military. A promise between packmates.
Thane clears his throat. "We should get moving. Long drive ahead."
Thane loads my bag into the back of the SUV while Wraith opens the front passenger door for me, those blue eyes crinkling above his mask in his version of a smile. The jagged scar throughhis right eye pulls slightly with the expression, but it doesn't diminish the warmth there.
"I can drive," Thane says, already heading for the driver's side.
Wraith's growl is immediate and forceful. His free hand moves sharply with signs in the space between them, choppy dark hair falling into his eyes with the aggressive movement.
"I'm not a shitty driver," Thane mutters, but there's fondness in his exasperation. "You hate being a passenger, fine. But if you crash because you're too busy staring at her?—"
Wraith's middle finger is eloquent in any language.
Thane sighs before climbing into the backseat. "Just remember there are other cars on the road."
He gives a short grunt in response.
I lower the window as Whiskey and Plague approach the passenger side. The underground garage's stale air mingles with their familiar scents. Cinnamon and winter, comfort and complicated at the same time.
"Gotta agree with Wraith," Whiskey says, leaning down to my level with that shit-eating grin of his. "Thane drives like he's got a stick up his ass."
"I can hear you," Thane calls from the backseat.
"Good." Whiskey's grin widens before his expression softens. "Take care of yourself, okay? And text if you needanything. Seriously." He pats the edge of the door. "I'll be there so fast you'll think I teleported."
"I will," I promise, then glance at Plague who's hanging back slightly, arms crossed in that way he does when he's feelingvulnerable but trying to hide it. His surgical mask is back in place, too. "Both of you behave while we're gone."
"We always behave," Plague says dryly, though the bite mark I left on his neck says otherwise.
"That's debatable," I say, earning a rare quiet laugh from him.
Wraith shifts anxiously in the driver's seat, a low rumble vibrating through the SUV. Time to go. I raise the window as Whiskey steps back, throwing up a casual salute while Plague gives a slight nod. Through the rear window, I watch them standing together in the fluorescent gloom until we turn the corner and they disappear.
The SUV emerges from the underground parking into late afternoon sunlight that makes me squint after the comparatively dim lighting. Wraith is tense, his knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel. Whenever he steals a glance at me, his mood lightens visibly, but it's still obvious something's bothering him. And I don't think it's just that he's worried about Valek.
"You okay?" I ask softly.
He glances at me, blue eyes troubled above his mask, then nods. But it's not convincing.
From the backseat, Thane leans forward slightly. "He just gets like this before Cedarbrook trips. Always has."
Wraith's low growl is immediate, defensive.
"What? It's true," Thane says, but there's gentleness in his voice. "Nothing wrong with being stressed about it."
I want to ask why—want to ask what it is about this small town that makes my protective giant so anxious—but something tellsme now isn't the time. Instead, I reach over and rest my hand on Wraith's thigh. The muscle is rigid beneath my palm, but he relaxes immediately.
"We need drinks and snacks," Thane announces suddenly. "Can't do a proper road trip without convenience store garbage."
Wraith huffs what might be amusement and takes the next exit toward the edge of the city. A few minutes later, we're pulling into an asphalt field of weedy potholes that barely passes for the parking lot of an even more run down gas station.
