Can I see you?the voice asks.
Even though everything inside me tells me it’s a bad idea, I answer,Yes.
In just two quick strides, I’m on the other side of the mask. The black wolf blinks at me. It takes me in, then its gaze flickers to my paw. I look down. It’s noticed my birthmark. The one that becomes a small white splash of fur when I shift.
You’re Sam,the wolf says. A statement not a question.
I cock my head to the side, trying to understand how he’s talking to me like this because I’venevercommunicated in wolf form before. Ever. Back inSpine, there was only deafening silence when my brothers and I shifted. Yet, somehow, this black wolf can place its words in my head?
Like a dog offering a human its paw, the black wolf lifts its foot. We are inches away from one another now. I’ve barely managed to process the fact I’m looking at a white splash of fur that’s almost identical to mine when the black wolf shudders. Its limbs blur. It yowls quietly. In a flurry of movement, the wolf shifts back into its human form.
A man has appeared in front of me. Young. My age. Dark floppy hair, broad shoulders, but—like his wolf counterpart—a slight frame. He’s wearing a black t-shirt and gray jeans, but he’s barefoot.
Crouching down, he swipes his fingers through his hair and stares at me. “You’re Sam,” he repeats. Out loud this time.
I try to ask his name, but the question bounces back into my own head and sends a jolt of pain through my skull.
“Only works wolf-to-wolf,” he says, tapping his temple with his forefinger.
Reluctantly, I shift back. He watches as I become myself again. When we both raise up to our full heights, he looks down at my wrist. I turn it up to face the night sky.
He steps forward. Without touching me, he extends his arm and turns his wrist upward too. His birthmark is the same as mine. On the opposite wrist, but the same. A splash of dark skin that looks like a bird.
Our eyes meet. “Who are you?” I whisper.
“I’m your brother,” he replies.
* * *
For a long moment,neither of us speaks. Finally, I cross my arms and take several steps back. “I don’t have a brother,” I snarl, trying not to notice how eerily similar we look. I have more muscle than him—years of dancing inSpinetook care of that—but we are the same height. Our hair is alike, our eyes, our noses.
I shake my head. “I don’t have a brother,” I repeat.
“I thought so, too,” he replies. “My whole life I thought so, too. Until my mother finally told me the truth.”
“Who is your mother?” I ask.
He screws his eyes shut. “It’s complicated,” he says. When he opens his eyes, he looks past me into the trees. “But I actually didn’t come here for you.” His expression changes. “I had no idea she’d found you.”
“Nova?” Her name is like fire on my tongue.
“Yes. I came for Nova.”
Hearing her name on his lips, the pieces suddenly slot into place. Nova’s only had contact with one werewolf other than me. A werewolf whopretendedto be me and wormed himself into her life. “You’re Nico?” I slam my hand around his throat before he has the chance to answer me. “You dare come here? After what you did?” With my free hand, I grab his arm and yank it up toward his face. Jerking my eyes from his face to the obviously fake birthmark on his wrist, I spit, “You expect me to believe this shit? You expect me to buy that you’re my brother when I know the pack of lies you told her?”
“Please,” Nico goes limp in my grasp. His voice is hoarse, his face reddening in the moonlight. “Just let me see her. I can help her. I came here to help.”
As Nico starts to shift beneath my fingers, I shift too. I lunge for his throat, sink my teeth into his shoulder, then pin him to the ground with my own body. He doesn’t fight me, just lays there shivering.
Tipping my head up toward the moon, energy surges up my throat and I howl so loudly the trees shake.
17
NOVA
“Before we go back to the cabin, there’s something I need to tell you.” Mack has stopped the truck in the turnout and is reaching for the piece of paper in his pocket. “The name Annalise gave us…”
I tilt my head to read it. “Thessaly Trajan?” My forehead creases. “Why does that sound familiar?”