“Uh-huh.”
“Whoo-eee, I feel for him. And you.”
“Thanks.” I manage a small chuckle. “Your support means everything to us.”
Mason turns earnest once more. “Seriously, if you need anything let me know, and if I hear anything that could be helpful, I’ll keep you informed.”
“Thank you, I appreciate it.”
“And Max—you’ll figure out the right thing to do, I know you will.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”
“Only a little.”
My call with Mason wasn’t super helpful, but at least it confirmed what we suspected. We’re on our own unless we can get Morven back onside. And I hate to admit it but that meanswe need Mia. Even though I respect her and Olivia’s decision to strike out on their own, lives are in danger. I know neither of them would want anyone to get hurt when they could have done something to stop it.
I tell Jasper all of this when he’s done in his meeting. We sit at the long, onyx counter in his kitchen, picking at spaghetti and vegan meatballs, but neither eating much.
“We’re sending our top trackers out to find Olivia,” he says, continually spinning noodles onto his fork but never lifting it to his mouth.
“She won’t come just because you tell her to.”
“I know.” His shoulders are slumped forward. In all the crisis meetings he must be putting up a brave front, trying to appear strong, which sounds incredibly tiring. It gives me a sense of privilege to know that I get to see this side of him, the exhausted side, the side that’s not quite coping, a side no one else gets to see. “But we have to try. I’m sending Salazar with them.”
“Is that a good idea?” Sending out his second-in-command when we’re in a vulnerable position is a risky move.
“He’s been out there looking for Olivia already. Says he’s found traces of them, even thought he’d caught their trail on a couple of occasions. He has the best idea of where they might have been and where they could be heading. Besides, he’ll be able to sense his daughter better than our best trackers.”
Jasper stares at his meal, the fork stilling in his fingers. What he doesn’t need right now is me picking apart his plans or second-guessing him, he’s doing that enough for himself. I place a hand on his knee, leaning forward so that I can feel his warmth near me, and hopefully he can feel mine. “You’re doing the right thing.”
He bites at his lip. “I hope so.”
He stares at me for a minute like he wants to ask me something. Like there’s some question on the tip of his tongue, and I have a feeling I know what it is, even without hearing his thoughts. But we’ve talked about how I want to use my powers before, when Jasper asked me to use them to spy on the alphas of other packs. And thankfully, he doesn’t ask, instead he looks back at the bowl of food in front of him, pushing it across the counter.
“I don’t know why I thought I could stomach anything right now,” he says.
“You should eat,” I say. “You need your strength.”
As I leave Jasper’s that evening, knowing he’ll be in meetings late into the night, and also knowing I can’t ignore the other things going on in my life forever, I can’t help wondering if I’m doing the right thing.
Mom seems to think I should use my blood-wolf powers to help give people hope, to calm their fears, but what use is there in doing that if it’s a lie. What if there is no hope? What if we’re right to be afraid?
And I know Jasper would probably love if I used my powers to find Mia and Olivia, and I’m tempted, especially knowing they’re our best chance at reconciling with the Rocky Pack, but even though I’ve used my powers when necessary in the past, something still doesn’t feel right about using the gifts given to me by the moon gods to spy on people, or to intervene in matters of war and politics.
There has to be a better reason I’ve been given these abilities, some greater purpose that I’ve yet to figure out, and until I do, I need to be careful.
“Thought you’d show up sooner or later,” Aisha says, holding the door to her apartment open for me. I came here straight from Jasper’s, knowing I needed to check in after their spat earlier. “You know you don’t need to clean up his messes? He can afford to pay people to do that.”
Despite her sarcastic tone, she gives me a tired smile and steps back to let me in.
“I didn’t come to make any excuses,” I say. “I just wanted to see how you are.”
Since the last time I was here, Aisha has totally upgraded her interior decor. There are multiple new plants near the windows, new art on the walls, new pillows, and a pair of vintage leather armchairs that are giving mid-century vibes. “The place looks amazing.”
“Thanks,” she says, “I’ve had time to work on it.”
“What’s up, my man?” Troy says from where he’s stirring the contents of a wok in the kitchen.
