“So,” Faythe said when she’d eaten the last of her corn chips, “what was that all about?”
I pushed a bean around in my bowl with my spoon. “You’re the last person I expected to criticize my career choice.”
Her right brow rose, and I lowered my gaze in a gesture of apology. I’d managed to piss off three Alphas in the span of an hour. I might have assumed that was some kind of record, if I hadn’t known Faythe when she was a teenager.
“I’m not criticizing. In fact, I think you’ll make a great enforcer.” She scooped up a bite of chili with her spoon. “But you had no intention of becoming one until half an hour ago, and we both know it.”
“Actually, I’ve been considering accepting Jace’s offer after I graduate.”
She studied me for a moment, looking past that partial-truth for the whole story. “When were you going to tell Brian? And your parents?”
I shrugged. “It didn’t feel fair to upset everyone before I’d made up my mind.”
“But it felt fair to spring it on everyone during a council meeting?”
“No, that just kind of happened.” I stared into my bowl. The chili smelled amazing, but my appetite had fled. All I could think about was the look of betrayal on Jace’s face.
“So, why the sudden rush to do it today instead of next June?”
I scraped cheese from the side of my bowl with my spoon while I considered my answer. The whole truth wasn’t an option, and my best chance for getting away with the necessary lie was to keep itcloseto the truth. Though that didn’t really assuage my guilt for being less than honest with her.
If there was anyone I wished I could confide in, other than Jace, it was Faythe.
“It’s this case,” I said while she chewed. “The murders. If I wait until this summer, that’ll all be over, and I’ll just wind up patrolling the territory on foot with Chase or Teo.”
“And that sounds boring to you?”
Not really. I looked forward to any excuse to prowl in cat form. There weren’t many chances for that at school. But it was too late to back out of the lie now, so I shrugged. “Yeah.”
Faythe looked disappointed. “Abby, is the excitement of a murder investigation really worth quitting school? I mean, even if thingsaredull in June, that won’t last long. It never does, unfortunately.”
“I know, but—”
“And even if you start tomorrow, you’ll only be in training. Jace isn’t going to give you much involvement in something this dangerous as a rookie. Especially since…” She shrugged, leaving me to my own conclusion.
“Since I forced his hand?” I desperately wished I’d realized what I needed to do in time to give him a private heads up, but truthfully, that was onlyoneof the do-overs the universe continued to deny me.
Faythe nodded. “I’m not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed that you know exactly what you just did to him.”
“Yeah, me neither. As many lessons as I’ve learned the hard way, you’d think I’d be a little wiser.”
Faythe exhaled slowly. “What’s wrong, Abby?” She set her empty bowl on an end table and twisted on the couch to face me, folding one leg beneath the other. “What’s this really about?”
“Nothing.” But I was a bad liar, and everyone knew it. “I just want to help with the investigation.”
My father chuckled, and I looked up to find him standing in the doorway, cradling a fresh cup of coffee. He didn’t look irritated with me anymore, but that didn’t mean much. His poker face was second nature. “Honey, Jace doesn’t need your help.”
“I know. I’m helping myself. I want to learn.”
“About murder?” My dad glanced from me to Faythe, and I could practically hear his thoughts, even though they didn’t show in his expression. He was thinking that whatever had gone wrong with his niece—whatever had turned her into an insurrectionist, no matter how well-intended—was contagious. He’d probably round up all the uninfected tabbies in the morning to keep them safe from themselves.
“Not murder specifically. I want to learn about Pride structure and management.” Surely that was believable, considering my college major. “Dealing with the bad guys. Assisting my Alpha. Protecting the territory.”
My father sank onto the chair across from us. “But that’s enforcer business.”
“I’man enforcer.”
“No,” Faythe said, in the gentle tone she usually saved for small children. “You’re a trainee.”
