I nod, but it feels jerky, wrong, like my body is moving a second behind everything else because my head is still back in that room, staring at the photo. A cold possibility curls through me so hard that I can barely breathe around it.
Is this real? Am I losing my mind?
Are my scent matches the men standing in that picture with a missing woman? Just thinking it makes nausea roll through me all over again. I need to ask them, to hear the truth from their mouths and know for sure, because right now, my thoughts are tearing at each other, and none of them are good. But I know if I stand in front of them while falling apart, I won’t be paying attention to know if they’re not telling me the truth.
“We have to talk to them. I know we do. But I can’t do it tonight,” I whisper.
“Tomorrow, then. And I’ll come with you.”
“Ace is outside,” I whisper, and my voice cracks completely.
Clio puts both her hands on my shoulders and turns me to face her. “Just text him and say you’re staying at my place tonight. Last-minute decision and he can head home.”
“Okay, but maybe once we leave, because he will come in and want to speak with me. I know it.”
“Then good thing my car is parked in the back and there’s a rear exit.” She hands me more paper towels.
And I wipe my eyes and throw them away, then push my hair out of my face. “I can do this. I mean, they’ve been nothing but gentle with me so far.”
She wraps me in a hug, and I let her hold me up because my knees are seriously considering quitting. I bury my face in her shoulder. I can’t stop picturing the photo or Ace’s mouth on mine twenty minutes ago, and I don’t know how both of those things can be true in the same world.
She takes my hand and draws me out of the bathroom. “Come, grab your bag, and I need to get my keys.”
We emerge from the bathroom, and Malia is right there, a folded tissue in her outstretched hand.
“Oh, sweetie.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.”
I accept the tissue because refusing it would require energy I don’t have. She’s watching me closely, the bridge between her eyes furrowed.
“Is it the masks that frightened you?” she asks softly.
“It’s okay,” I say, not wanting to discuss it with anyone else.
“Don’t be cross with Clio, please,” Malia goes on. “She told me earlier, when she was so worried about you, that you’d come across some masks at the house where you’re staying with some Alphas.”
Clio appears with her keys and bag, sighing. “Adelaide, hope you don’t mind. I just thought she might know something about the masks since she runs some cultural events on this side of the island, and figured she might have seen them somewhere else to explain why they had them. I didn’t know?—”
“Do they look like these?” Malia asks, showing me the photo again.
I can’t look away. The masks are there, on three men, a possibility that they could be my Alphas.
The room turns again, and I set a hand against the wall to stay upright. The tissue crumples in my fist.
“Adelaide.” Malia’s voice is soft and relentless. “Darling. Do they?”
My mouth is dry. “I don’t—” I start.
Clio steps between us and wraps her arms around me. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers into my shoulder. “Babe. I am so sorry.”
“Adelaide,” Malia presses. “This could be crucial to the case. A young woman is missing, and her mother has not slept through a night since she vanished. If there is anything you know?—”
“I have to go, Clio, please.” I don’t want to be rude to Malia, but she’s pushing all the wrong buttons right now.
Malia steps closer.
