“He can recover here until he’s well enough to get on his bike and fuck off. If he mentions anything resembling shifters or men with claws and huge fucking teeth, we feign ignorance and persuade him it’s his imagination brought on by the concussion.”
Callum scoffs. “And you think he’ll fall for that?”
“You think he’d rather believe he saw men turn into wolves?”
“There are rumours in town—” Mal starts.
“I know there’s rumours, but no one wants to be the first to say it aloud and risk being laughed at. Deep down, no one wants to actually believe we exist. That’s what nightmares are made of.”
“All that aside,” Flint starts, “someone’s going to be missing him soon if not already.” He pulls something out of his pocket. “Jet found this when he went back for Morgan’s bike.” He holds up a phone.
Morgan’s phone, I’m guessing.
“All we need is to have someone tracking him on that Find My app and we’re shafted.”
“Why not leave it in the forest?” Mal glares at him over the table and Flint stared back like he’s an idiot.
“Surrounded by all that blood? Even if we cleaned the area up, they’re bound to find something. Now that we’re saving him, it’s better to find him here and alive than assume he’s missing. No?”
I stare at the phone. “Has anyone tried to call him?”
Flint laughs again. “Oh yeah. About ten million times. And sent multiple texts. That’s why we’re here.”
“And you’ve waited until now to bring it up?”
The phone vibrates on the table as if to drive my point home.Ashflashes on the screen and I wonder who that is to him. Family? Friend? Boyfriend? The last one makes me want to smack the fucking thing, so I sit back and away from temptation.
“Shall I answer it?” Flint reaches for the phone, but a chorus ofnostops him. He raises his hands. “Just a thought. Fuck’s sake.”
Eventually the call goes to voicemail, but it’s immediately followed by a text. We all lean forward to read the message on the screen.
Ash: Call me, you dick. Or at least answer a text. Starting to get worried now
“Who’s that?” I jab a finger at the phone.
“Friend?” Mal offers. “Family? Boyfriend? I don’t fucking know.”
“Best friend,” Callum says, and we all turn to stare at him. He shrugs. “I told you I asked about him.” He nods at the screen. “Ash Norton, lives in North Oakley with his family. Morgan lives with his dad. Mum died when he was sixteen. Although when he came here, he said his dad lost their house in a card game.”
“Who the fuck bets a house?” Mal looks between us. “Is that even legal?”
Fucked if I know. “Was he telling the truth?”
Cal nods. “Seemed to be.”
Another message comes through before we can debate it further.
Ash: You’re still at the fucking compound? Ffs. Look, if you don’t reply by morning, I’m coming to you, and you know how much I’m gonna hate that. ANSWER THE FUCKING PHONE!!!
Silence.
“Well,” Flint says, folding his arms. “That’s going to be a problem.”
He meets my gaze, both eyebrows raised, and the weight of my selfish decision suddenly feels suffocating.
Instincts or not, I should’ve left Morgan Webb to die in the forest.
8
