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know that sound. Rhonda is thirsty.”

Corbin eyes the fuel gauge. “Looks like we have plenty of gas.”

“Um, that’s not exactly accurate. Mom and I learned that once when we went Christmas shopping, but halfway to the mall, we ended up spending two hours on the side of the road, in the cold.”

After filling up the tank, I go in the convenience store and fill my arms with road trip snacks, including Chex-mix, red licorice Vines, Funions, and tons of candy. I even stock up on Cherry Chapstick. Outside, Corbin is behind the wheel, looking very much out of place in the minivan.

I giggle. “Minivan life looks good on you.”

He grumbles.

“Okay, now the fun can begin. We can play car-eoke, collect license plates from all fifty states, and—” I pop the glove box and pull out the tattered Trivial Pursuit cards my mom and I would amuse each other with when traveling. “Question: a piece of paper can be folded no more than blank number of times?”

“The magic number is seven.” His voice doesn’t contain the playful note I was hoping for.

“Ding, ding, ding. You got it right.”

I ask him a few more as the sun begins to fade. Corbin eventually goes quiet, concentrating in the rush hour traffic, giving me time to wonder about my father’s family—the wolf and fae that started this whole thing. What were they like? Brave to be in love with each other when it was forbidden. What happened to them? Where are they now? Wolves and fae can live an extraordinarily long time.

I’m not sure what kinds of answers I’m going to get, but only hope we’re not like tigers chasing their tails, a thread, or a hope that my father is out there.

When we leave the cityscape and traffic behind, opening up to country roads, heading west, I say, “Corbin, what are you thinking about?”

He’s been different for the last week or so. More distant. Back in Concordia, I chalked it up to his duties to the pack and the stress of the werewolf killing humans. Now that we’re here, I want to think it’s because he’s out of his comfort zone. But Corbin is an Alpha wolf. I can’t imagine anything making him feel anything less than his strong, confident self—not even a car that isn’t polished to a high shine.

If I learned anything from my mother, it’s that relationships can be tricky. I will not let whatever is going on, especially if it has to do with me, go unspoken.

The silhouette of his shoulders lift and lower. “This incredible world you live in. The cars, the lights, pizza, libraries, and the movie theaters,” he says, echoing my comment from earlier.

“It’s amazing, huh?” I ask, struck by the fresh wonderment as seen through her eyes of what was so ordinary I took it for granted. “Do you think we’ll make it?”

“To Mexico?” he asks. “That’s up to Rhonda.”

“No, I mean us. Will we survive this thing?”

His hand finds mine. Both of our fingers are cold but pressed together they quickly warm.

“We will,” he says in the tone of an alpha.

“But I’m kind of having an existential crisis,” I say, suddenly overwhelmed. “I’m a hybrid magical. Will I live a long and happy life? What if there’s something I don’t know? What if there are complications?”

“There will be challenges and difficulties. There always are. I’ve learned that lesson a few times over. But we’ll deal with them as they come—together.”

The trepidation I’ve felt starts to smooth out.

“When it comes to magic, whether you’re wolf, fae, or vampire, just remember you always have a choice. It may not always be easy, but you are free as you let yourself be.”

“But what if I forget or lose it and do something without thinking?” My voice is thin as I recall the power that seemed to flood out of me when I killed Amanda. It almost felt like the power was being summoned from me.

Corbin merges into another lane, passing a tractor-trailer as the smooth voice on the GPS tells him to take a left exit onto Interstate 90, orienting us west, toward the Pacific. The Atlantic is now at our backs. I wonder if someday I’ll be able to put it all of this strangeness and uncertainty behind me too.

Chapter 14

Corbin

Kenna and I chat a while longer about the states we’re passing through as rain falls and the wipers swish back and forth, clearing a way forward.

She tells me about road trips she and her mother took. All of that leads her to the beginning of us. Our pasts were so different, and yet here we are, together.

Eventually, the shushing of the car tires over the wet road rocks her to sleep. Unlike the vehicles I have back in Concordia, this one is barebones. Just a radio that I tune to a late-night talk show. Night owls debate the solution to a love triangle. I try to imagine the speakers’ faces, their lives, but no amount of focus helps me tune out my thoughts.

When I first encountered Clove, I feared he was interested in Kenna. I understand her trepidation because even though she says she’s claimed her wolf, there’s no telling if she’ll suddenly activate her other magic and change her mind. I worried Clove might try to edge his way in and we’d end up in a love triangle like on the radio. No thank you.

How very wrong I was.

This brings to mind the deadline with the Council, Greyson, the Klave, and the werewolf.

My thoughts follow this loop, digging a rut that doesn’t bring me any closer to a solution about how to end this madness when the windshield wipers clearing the damp glass freeze, pointing diagonally toward two-o’clock. The lights on the

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