“Anyway, I told you, I don’t think it was just a dream. It was soreal, so tangible! And just now, when I was asleep, I had another one! This time, a shadow cuts through the woods, leaving a trail of blood. It was so clear, Dominic, I swear I can still feel the snow…”
He listened as she carried on, describing the woods, the blood, the pale, empty sky. She hadn’t noticed using his name instead of his title, had been speaking it more and morefrequently, but it still tugged something in him. She said it so easily, so quickly, so…so genuinely. There was no harsh edge of anger, no rot of fear.
Just his name. Spoken like that. Quick and easy and light.
He swallowed.
Fuck.
“—followed the trail, I could lead you! I know I can’t shift, but if I—”
“Layla,” he said gently, leaning forward, bracing his arms on his knees, “just pause for a second. Take a breath.”
She halted before him, hands folding over themselves, her eyes bright and nervous.
He dragged his hand down his face. “Look, Theodore said that you’ve always had quite vivid dreams, and I think in the excitement, maybe you’re reading into it. Seeing things that aren’t there.”
Layla stared at him. For a heartbeat, she looked as though she hadn’t understood the words, and then her face hardened. “And you believe him?”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“Because I’m telling you so,” she said, her voice frosting over, “and he’s lying. I’ve never had particularly vivid dreams. Not before this. And if I did, I certainly wouldn’t have told him about them.”
“He’s your brother. He knows you.”
“And I know him. I’m telling you, he only said that because he doesn’t want me causing trouble, or reflecting badly on him.”
Dominic’s voice stayed calm, but his shoulders stiffened. “I know him, too. He’s my best friend. He’s just trying to protect you.”
“From what? From myself?”
“From the very real danger in the woods,” Dominic said. “He doesn’t want you chasing after hybrids because you had a dream about some trail! And neither do I, for that matter.”
“So you don’t believe me,” she said, swallowing sharply. “You think they are just dreams.”
“I…” he trailed off with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I just want to keep everyone in the pack safe. I want to support Arthur and the rest of the Nordan. I don’t want to give them false hope if I have any doubt whatsoever about your…whatever they are.”
She laughed, hollow and bitter, turning round and stalking towards the window. Her silhouette shone in the last dying rays of the sun, and for a moment, he allowed himself to just admire her figure.
He didn’t like doing this. Didn’t like causing her pain, much to his chagrin.
But what was he supposed to do? Launch a whole expedition on her word alone? She may be Luna, but she hadn’t held the position for yet a day, and the pack had no reason to trust her. No reason to follow him if he pinned his whole strategy on her supposed intuition.
“Go back to bed,” he said finally, voice raw. “We’ll talk when there’s more information.”
“Get out,” she whispered without turning.
The silence between them was thick and choking. Then she brushed past him and opened the window, letting the seawind rush in. It swept through the room, cold and clean, but it couldn’t clear the air between them.
“Layla—”
“No,” she rounded on him, fists bunched, face lined with heartbreak and fury, “you won’t even hear me out. Won’t even sendone scouton the route I’ve seen. You’ve shown me exactly how much respect you have for me. I’m such an idiot,” she turned back to the window, folding into herself, “such anidiot.”
“You’re not—”
“Don’t,” she snapped, eyes narrowing, “don’t even try.”
He ignored her. “It’s not just one scout. That’s not how things work. You’d know that if you—”
