I took a moment to gaze upon all these faces I loved.
Niall, with his gaping mouth and arms butterflied behind his head.
Nolan, with both his hands tucked beneath his cheek.
Nash, with his nose pressed against the crown of Adalyn’s head.
Nate, with his snores that could wake a hibernating bear.
Dad, with his head lolling back on the seat cushion he shared with Mom.
And Mom, with her head tipped toward Dad’s and her hand resting on my shoulder.
My own little pack. How lucky I was.
I’d never taken a single one of them for granted, and never would. Especially not after last night. If that bullet had hit one of them instead—
I shuddered, which woke up my mother. Dad awoke next with a snort-grunt. And then the rest of the Freemonts yawned and stretched.
Only Niall remained passed out a few minutes longer. Took Nash tossing a leftover tortilla chip at him before the youngest of my brothers jerked awake, grunting a, “What the fuck, man?”
Mom shook her head but smiled, her hand combing through my hair over and over.
Dad pinched the bridge of his nose. “What time is it?”
Nate checked his phone. “Eight.” He pressed the heels of his hands into his puffy, red-rimmed eyes. “I need to check on Bea.” When he’d arrived home last night, his complexion had been ashen, but his eyes had been clear, slick with shock but not with tears, which told me he must’ve wept after I’d fallen asleep.
Mom exchanged a look with Dad, and probably several words. “The funeral’s this morning, Nate,” she finally said. “You can go see her after you’ve paid your respects to Lori.”
My brother flinched. I didn’t think my mother had meant for it to sound accusatory. Or maybe she had. After all, it was in part Bea’s fault that Lori had been gunned down.
I’d assumed Mom had forgiven Bea, and maybe she had until last night. Until one woman’s ambition ruined another woman’s life.
As though he’d felt us stirring, Liam’s voice sounded into all our minds.Boulders, I expect you all at the graveyard in one hour. For anyone twisted enough to use a funeral to access the bunker, you’ll be sorely disappointed by what you find there.
Nate’s gaze jerked to Nash’s. “He moved her?”
“Yeah. Last night.”
“Where?”
Nash shrugged. “Don’t know.”
“I’m going down to Pondside to get last night’s food ready for the wake,” Dad told Mom as I headed for the stairs. The big feast we’d planned on devouring to celebrate the full moon would now be consumed to commemorate a fallen shifter. “I’ll meet you at the cemetery.”
When she wound her arms around his waist and kissed him, I turned away.
“Ew, get a room,” Niall said.
I smiled while my other brothers snickered. But my delight vanished when I started up the stairs, because my overexerted joint felt welded to both my shin and thighbone. I broke out in a cold sweat but powered through the pain. Inside my bedroom, I swapped my sleep tank for a long-sleeved black tee and my leggings for stretchy jeans, then sat and took a few minutes to massage my leg, trying to soften the tendons and warm the muscles. Time slipped away from me, and soon, Mom was knocking on my door.
One look at my hands cradling my knee made her purse her lips and head into my bathroom. She returned with four white pills and a glass of water. I shot back the anti-inflammatory drugs, then stood up and inched back toward my closet for a dark gray fleece that had once belonged to Niall. It swallowed me up but afforded me the warmth and softness I’d need to get through the day.
After offering me her arm, we treaded back down the stairs and out the door. It was no longer snowing, but ice crystals twinkled on the skinny branches of the birch trees, tinkling every time the wind bent them to its will.
Although the cemetery was only a half hour walk, Mom insisted on driving. Clearly, she was doing it for me, though she claimed she’d need the car to help Dad lug stuff back from Pondside.
The temperature inside the minivan was almost harsher than outside. As the car curled down the road, crunching over yesterday’s ice-crusted snow, we passed other shifters making their way to the graveyard. We even picked up a few on the way—mothers with bundled-up toddlers and pregnant bellies, and older shifters with brittle hips.
