Thornhill

I shook as a slow ache spread through my chest. “Kyle, you are human.”

“No. I’m really not.” His gaze became resolute. “You need to tell them what you are. You need to tell them you’re a reg.”

“You know I can’t.” I stared at him, willing him to understand. “There’s no way I can leave without knowing Serena’s okay—especially after that stuff Dex said at breakfast.”

Kyle stared right back, but didn’t speak. It was like a contest: whichever one of us blinked first lost.

“I’ll be careful. I’ll be safe. We don’t have self-control for another week, and that’s the only place wolves are allowed to shift outside the zone.” I laced my fingers with his. I didn’t need his permission to stay—it wasn’t a contest or vote—but I couldn’t afford to spend every free moment arguing. “I need to know that Serena’s okay and I need you to help me.” I squeezed his hand so tightly that my arm shook. “Please, Kyle.”

“You’re insane, you know that, right? You’re like a member of PETA with a death wish.” The words were mocking, but the look in his eyes was lost and a little sad. Voice rough, he said, “Regs aren’t supposed to care this much about werewolves.”

“All werewolves start off as regs,” I countered.

In response, he kissed me.

It started off gently—just the brush of his lips against mine—but I reached up and clasped my hands behind his neck, drawing him closer. My lips parted under his and the kiss deepened to something that was a almost fierce in its intensity.

Everything inside of me twisted and shattered.

Without breaking the kiss, Kyle switched our positions so that my back was against the tree. His hands stroked my hair and my shoulders and grazed my sides when my shirt rucked up a few inches. His fingers left trails of fire on my skin, the sensation only occasionally dampened by the touch of the metal cuff around his wrist.

No wrist cuffs, I thought, no Thornhill. Just us.

Moments later, when I was in danger of completely forgetting where we were, Kyle made a low, frustrated noise deep in his throat and gently pulled away.

He turned his head and scanned the area beyond the trees. Following his gaze, I saw a female guard headed our way. Squinting, I could just make out a pack of cigarettes in her hand as she shook out a smoke.

“There’s probably still time to get some lunch,” I said as Kyle and I stepped out from the trees.

He shot me a small, slightly rueful smile. “Sure. If you’re going to insist on throwing yourself into dangerous situations, we should probably make sure you keep your strength up.”

“Speaking of which . . .” The roof of the sanatorium was just visible over the dining hall. “Dex seemed sure that was where Serena would be.”

“It makes sense. If she were in the main part of the camp, we’d have seen her at breakfast or orientation.”

“So all we have to do is figure out a way to get into the only place we’re not allowed to go. Well, one of,” I amended, thinking of Dex’s cryptic statement about there being two. “Should be easy.” I meant the words to sound joking, but they hung heavy in the air, filled with doubt and trepidation.

“We’ll figure something out,” promised Kyle, and I knew part of the determination in his voice was the belief—or hope—that I’d leave once we knew Serena was safe.

But even if we found her, how could anyone ever be safe in a place with counselors like Langley and where—according to Dex—people disappeared?

I took one last glance at the sanatorium roof before it slipped from view.

No: finding Serena was just step one. There was no way I was leaving Thornhill until I figured out how to take both her and Kyle with me.

12

MY ARMS THROBBED AS I TRANSFERRED ANOTHER LOAD of wet sheets to a dryer that was big enough to sleep in. The humidity in the air plastered my shirt to my skin and made my lungs ache. Before this afternoon, I wouldn’t have said laundry was actual torture, but before this afternoon, I had never tried to do laundry for a few hundred people.

“You! Over here!” The counselor—a chubby woman with a nose ring and olive skin—raised her voice above the din of the machines.

Twelve pairs of eyes turned toward her as we each tried to figure out which one of us she was talking to. At the machine next to me, Eve dropped the armful of Thornhill shirts she was holding and pushed back her sweat- damp hair.

The counselor’s gaze locked on me. “Over here,” she repeated.

I followed her across the long, narrow room to where two-dozen wheeled bins awaited an ever-rotating supply of uniforms, sheets, and towels. She gestured at two smaller bins set off to the side. Unlike the others, they had lids but no wheels. One was labeled Gloves, the other Smocks.

“These need to go to the garden sheds by the produce fields. Can you manage?”

A sinking feeling filled my stomach as I tried to figure out how much each bin might weigh.

When I didn’t immediately answer, the counselor frowned. “Are you going to pick one up?”

Good question, I thought.

There was no choice but to try. Hoping gloves would be lighter than smocks, I lifted the nearest bin—

And almost dropped it. Not because it was too heavy—though I could feel the strain in my arms and shoulders—but because I could barely reach around it; no wonder the counselor had asked if I could manage.

“You’ll need help.” She turned to the room and asked for a volunteer.

I tried to keep the surprise from my face when Eve raised her hand.

The counselor waved her forward and gave us directions as Eve gracefully lifted the bin full of smocks. “They go in shed fifteen. Head past the auditorium and take a left at the next path. Don’t worry about making it back for the end of the detail. We only have ten minutes left and it’ll probably take you that long to get there.”

We made our way out of the building. For a few moments, I luxuriated in the sensation of the afternoon breeze cooling the sweat on my face and the chance to breathe air that wasn’t as heavy as a wet gym sock. But the mental break lasted only until the laundry building was out of sight.

“What do you want, Eve?”

“Who said I wanted anything?”

I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. Her expression was too guarded for someone who wasn’t working some sort of angle. “Come on. First you bailed me out in self-control—thanks for that, by the way—and then you volunteered to lug this stuff across the camp.”

“Beats staying in the laundry room,” she said with a shrug.

Up ahead, a pair of men rounded a bend in the path. Both wore jogging shorts and blue T-shirts—outfits that were completely at odds with the holsters bouncing on their hips. Even at rest, the guards were armed.

We stepped off the path to make room. Once they were out of sight, Eve set down her bin, readjusted her hold, and then picked it back up. I was tempted to do the same, but given the way my arms were starting to shake, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to lift it a second time.

“We need to get out of Thornhill,” she said. “We can’t just sit around, doing nothing.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What happened to all that stuff you said about Hank getting us out?”

She considered her answer as we passed the auditorium and took the left the counselor had told us about. Here, close-crowded trees bordered the path, and I realized we were on the other side of the woods we had passed on our way to self-control earlier in the day.

“Curtis is going to try and get us out,” Eve said slowly, ignoring the short, skeptical noise I made, “but if he can’t, then we have to figure out something on our own. This whole place was built to control wolves like me, not regs like you. You can go places I can’t. We can use that.”