“That is the only one it affects,” she insisted, but the last word broke on a soft sob.
“Not anymore.” He wanted her to believe that, if he could convince her of nothing else.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” The desperation in her voice hurt, and he knew she was trying to make this easier, but he didn’t want it to be easier on her. He wanted it to be really hard to leave him.
“It would rip a hole in my heart if I lost you now, Selina.” He laid it out for her, whether she wanted to hear it or not. If he’d done that for Heather, maybe he wouldn’t have lost her so young. Maybe she wouldn’t have given up all hope. He couldn’t bear those doubts with Selina. He didn’t want to keep making the same mistakes over and over again, so he told her the bald truth. “I need you too much to watch you die before your time.”
A tear streaked down her cheek. “It is my time.”
“Not until old age gets you, it isn’t.” He reached over and brushed the moisture away. “You can run from the truth if you want to, honey, but that won’t change it. In the end, it doesn’t matter what I want, it matters that you want to live.”
Her hands strangled the steering wheel, strain drawing the skin taut around her eyes and mouth. “It’s not that simple.”
“It’s a start.”
His cell rang before she could respond, and it was Peyton with information on the situation at Selina’s house. He put the blue light on her dash and lit it up. She put her foot on the gas pedal, speeding them toward whatever Fate had in store for them.
16
This was it. The end game. Selina could feel it to her bones.
She tried to calm her racing heart, to focus on something besides this one inevitable moment she’d known was coming for so long.
They had the house surrounded. Her house. They’d scanned it with infrared to see if Isaak’s body heat showed up. Nothing. Any attempts to try magical scans had failed. The evil was too powerful to penetrate. It was near, that much she knew. She could feel that same wave of uneasiness go down her spine as before, when Grim had been snapping at shadows. The cursed object. It disrupted magic, made it flicker like static, pulled at it like a magnet, sent a creeping chill down her spine.
Grim vibrated with disquiet next to her as they worked their way across the lawn, silent as the grave. Peyton was in front of her, Jack just behind her. They lined up against the rear of her house, their backs to the wood siding. Her flak jacket felt bulky and heavy, and sweat slid in sticky rivulets down her neck.
Ready, Grayson? Peyton motioned to her, his staticky telepathic voice in her head, and she nodded. Gathering every last bit of magic she could muster, she’d blast in the back door in three ... two ... one ...
Boom.
The percussive burst made her wince, and Peyton and Grim snarled as it hit their sensitive ears. The werewolf whipped through the door, his weapon leading the way. They filed through the door, covering each other, moving from room to room, searching for the evil Normal.
Her heart thudded against her ribs every time they entered a room. So familiar, and so alien. Nothing was out of place, and yet it felt violated. As if the very air had become dark and twisted. He’d been here, in her home. If, by some miracle, she survived this, she couldn’t live here anymore.
If. When had she even had a shred of hope of surviving? When had that happened without her noticing? She shook herself. Focus. This was no time to let her attention wander.
Her steps careful, she eased down the hallway toward her bedroom. Jack was across from her, working his way along the wall. His brows furrowed, but when he met her gaze, he winked. She almost smiled. Almost.
Spinning to the opposite side of the doorway, he nodded to her to let her precede him into the room. She ducked her head to do a visual scan, tried her magic, and found the same irritating jangle of evil scraped along her nerves. She looked again, saw nothing, and flipped around the doorjamb, her pistol pointing at anything that might so much as twitch while she inspected the closet, under the bed, behind the big armoire in the corner.
Nothing.
The air deflated from her lungs. He wasn’t here. “Clear.”
“Clear,” Jack confirmed.
The house is all clear. Peyton’s voice drifted through her mind.
Slapping her hand hard against the footboard, she cursed in every language she knew. “Not again.”
She spun for the door, not bothering with quiet now. Her boots rang against the wooden floorboards as she went through the house. The few agents she passed stepped aside to get out of her way. She heard Jack following behind her, but futile rage burst in her veins.
No. No. He couldn’t slip through her fingers again. Her muscles were so tense she was shaking, and she tightened her grip on her weapon to control the tremor. She couldn’t have come so close to catching him and fail once more. She would never forgive herself for letting Bess down that way. Not again.
She made it to the living room, where Peyton stood clustered with a few other men and women. Grim sniffed every crevice, working his way through the house as thoroughly as the humans had.
“Damn it,” she hissed, shoving a hand through her hair. “I can feel the cursed object. He’s nearby, toying with us.”
“I can sense it, too, but it’s fucking with my werewolf abilities.” Peyton blew a breath out of his nose, the closest she’d ever seen him come to losing his cool. “Fuck me if I can figure out which direction it’s coming from.”
Jack’s voice rumbled from behind her. “We’re going to have to set up a search of the neighborhood and expand from there. Do this manhunt the Normal way, since everyone’s magic is hosed.”
“Yeah. Hang on.” The wolf turned back to say something to one of the other agents.
“Live to fight another day, huh?” Jack tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, a tender smile on his face.
Her throat closed tight. He loved her. He’d said so. She’d been trying to deny it, suppress it, not think about it since the moment it came out of his mouth, but gods. He loved her. It filled her up with something so bright and beautiful, it was painful. It was too enormous for words, too wonderful. She caught his hand and turned her head to kiss his palm. She didn’t care who was watching. This feeling was too powerful to let anyone else affect it.
“Jack, I don’t—”
A deafening howl rent the air, and Jack and she spun toward it at the same time. Her heart froze in her chest. Gods, that horrific noise came from her familiar.
“Grim!” Jack shouted.
They both ran, pelting in the direction of the sound. She saw his tail disappearing around the side of her neighbor’s house. “He’s got Isaak’s scent!”
Arms and legs pumping, she sprinted after him, Jack keeping pace beside her. She heard engines starting up, people yelling and running, and knew the others would circle the block to try to cut the murderer off. Good.
Grim jumped the fence out of her neighbor’s backyard, and she grabbed one of the planks, planted her foot, and executed a quick flip. She stumbled when she landed, but regained her footing and hauled ass after her familiar. No way was she losing him now. Jack vaulted easily over the fence, managed not to slam into her, and tore off in the same direction as Grim.
Her heart hammered, her breath rasped in her throat, and her lungs burned. The heavy bulletproof jacket didn’t help. It slammed down on her chest every time she took a step. She ignored the discomfort, gripped her weapon tight, and ran flat out.