He follows me into the hall. “Tobias!”
“I said, go!”
Ivy stops in her tracks, eyes wide. I ignore her and continue on, bare feet freezing against the hard floor. I should’ve grabbed socks, but whatever. I can go back for them once he’s far away in the city.
Once in the darkroom, I turn and lean against a wall. The ball in my chest is twice the size now, pressing against my lungs. I gulp in air, trying to calm down. I’m being ridiculous. I need to trust Rowen and his pack to take care of themselves. But… two vampires? In a city full of more vampires and other supernaturals? I’ve lived in Prodigy my whole life; I know the dangers that crawl through its streets.
Bending forward, I fist my hands against my legs and count to ten. He’s been there before too. Rowen has been in the city many times. Hell, I’ve seen him in action. I know how quick he is on his feet. How lethal his wolf can be.
So why does this feel different? Feel… impossible?
I dig a heel against my ribcage, trying to scoop out some of the darkness.Come on, Tobias. You can do this.It’s just one day. He’ll be fine. Rowen will be fine!
But it’s like there’s some part of me that is missing now. A cord stretching thinner and thinner the further away he gets, and I’m terrified if it snaps, he won’t find his way back.
“Fuck.” I’m in his goddamn house! Of course, he’ll find his way back.
My head throbs from the sudden stress. Sliding down to the floor, I rest my head against the wall and close my eyes.Breathe in, breathe out.I’ll be okay. He will too. In a few hours, everything will be normal again.
It takes a while, but eventually the panic subsides, though the tightness stays. It probably won’t go away completely until Rowen returns. Still, at least I can breathe now.
Getting to my feet, I turn the light on. The red glow is comforting, familiar. So is the smell of the various chemicals. Rowen lectured me yesterday about spending too much time in here, but he doesn’t get it. The magic that happens here. The transformation. Watching art appear out of nothing—it’s like creating life.
Plus, it’s the only way I can give something back.
The pack has given me so much, so developing some of Glen’s old photos feels like repaying some of that debt. It’s easing some of the guilt.
I turn the enlarger on, then adjust the current strip of negatives in the metal slide below the projector. The next photo is of Sasha and Taren. I recognize Taren’s sister so easily now. Their arms are around each other as they walk toward the camera, their free arms poised above their heads, forming a small heart against the setting sun.
It’s a gorgeous photo. Sasha was gorgeous. They both are. I ache every time I see the young woman’s face now. She shouldn’t have died. No one should have. None of this should be happening.
Fuck Foxx and Rip and the whole damn coven.
By now, I’ve mastered how to add the light-sensitive photo paper to the pressure clips in near darkness. It only takes a few seconds to burn the image into the paper, then I shut it off and move it to the developing liquid and repeat the process with a practiced rhythm.
I process each one before moving to a new strip of negatives. Glen has entire binders of them, stored away in a filing cabinet by month and year. For some of my favorites, I’ve created duplicates, experimenting withlonger exposure times or different filters just to see what they do. It fills me with so much joy. Passion. Purpose. Being in this room is the only way I feel alive lately—aside from when I’m with Rowen.
I smile as I think of him. Every time my hands dip into warm developer, I feel a little better. Or at least I tell myself I do.
The knot in my chest tells me otherwise.
Please get home safely.
After adjusting a new negative, I glance at the clock on the wall for the umpteenth time. Rowen has been gone for four hours already. It’s going fast… yet somehow dragging.
They were only supposed to pick up supplies and meet Kaine. Just talk. But my chest has gotten tighter the longer he’s away. It feels like someone’s sitting on me. I’ve checked the clock so many times that the ticking has become another pulse in my head.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I try to calm down. “Get it together.”
The most recent photo in the developing tray is almost done. I move it around with the tongs. It’s a shot of the property in the spring, with daffodils lining the porch. I should feel calm looking at it, but the longer I stare, the more the shadows seem to shift. Like ripples under a frozen surface.
There’s something darker between the trees. Something watching.
Is that…
I blink hard, and the image is normal again.
Exhaling slowly, I shake it off. “You’re fine. Just a little tired, that’s all.”
