stuff Jason said—about how the LSRB and the Trackers would use a breakout—it didn’t surprise you, did it? You already thought of it.”
The lines on Hank’s face deepened, leaving him looking tired and older. He toyed with his beer without taking a drink. “When you and Eve first asked me to break all of the wolves out of Thornhill, why do you think I said no?”
I thought back to the night at the fence and shrugged. “Potential payout minus probable cost.” It was the formula he used for everything.
Hank nodded. “But not for me. There are dozens of packs across the country. Did you honestly think you and Eve were the first to consider taking down a camp? Did you think you were the first to want to?”
Before I could say anything, he added, “Other packs have thought about it. No one’s tried because doing so is tantamount to declaring war on the LSRB.”
“One camp is enough to give people hope. No one has ever stood up to the LSRB before. Not like this.” Hank’s gaze carried so much weight that I felt somehow smaller under it. “Even if we fail, wolves in other camps will hear about what we tried to do and they’ll fight back—first in small ways that won’t seem to matter, and then in larger ones that will add up. Soon, other packs will start resisting instead of hiding.”
“But that’s good, isn’t it?” I shook my head. “If no one ever fights back then nothing will change.”
“Do you remember what happened to Leah?”
My breath caught, and I knew Hank could read the memory on my face.
Of course I did.
Leah had lived down the hall from us in Detroit. She’d been kind and smart and had tried to look out for me. She had also been a werewolf—though I hadn’t known it at the time. After people found out she was infected, a group of Trackers had dragged her into the street and beaten her to death.
Instead of trying to stop them, our neighbors had cheered and watched.
“What happened to her will happen in every city, every day. If we take down a camp, the backlash against wolves will be worse than it was when the epidemic broke.” Hank watched me, gauging my reaction.
Fear settled in my stomach like lead, and the urge to throw up rose in my throat. Suddenly, everything seemed too big, and I felt exactly like what my father probably saw: a naive seventeen-year-old who was way out of her depth.
It took me a moment to find my voice. “Why, then? Why didn’t you say anything before? If you’re so sure that’ll be the result, why do it?” He had wanted to get Eve and me out. We were out. What else did he have to gain?
Hank shrugged and finally took a swallow of beer. “I told you this morning: what she’s doing is too dangerous to go unchecked.”
I bit my lip. I knew I shouldn’t push, I knew I should just be grateful he had changed his mind, but for some reason I needed to understand. “But it doesn’t affect you. Not directly.”
Hank’s eyes narrowed and I knew he was starting to lose patience. He had always hated questions. “If what they did to your friend is considered a success, then it will affect me. And every other wolf in the country. Sooner or later, the LSRB will come after us. This way, we’re taking the fight to them instead of just waiting.”
“There’s no reason to think the LSRB knows what Sinclair’s doing,” I reminded him. “She’s been falsifying the admission records.”
“Maybe,” he conceded. “Or maybe they’re just covering their tracks in case it ever comes out. Either way, after tonight, things are about to get a whole lot darker for any wolf and anyone suspected of having werewolf sympathies.”
He shook his head and stood.
“You need to go home. You need to pick up your life, and forget about the wolves and Thornhill.”
“I can’t do that.” I took a deep breath. “Serena and Kyle are my friends. I won’t just turn my back on them. I’m coming with you tonight.”
Hank’s response was instant. “Absolutely not.”
“You need regs in case anyone uses an HFD against your wolves. You know you do. You can shoot out the big ones on the poles, but you won’t know who has a handheld one until it’s too late.”
“I’ve got the Tracker.”
“And if something happens to him? If he gets shot or hurt or someone on your team decides trusting him is too big a risk?” Hank scowled and I knew I had him. “I know my way around the camp, I’ve been in the sanatorium, and HFDs don’t affect me. You need me. Whether you like it or not.”
I turned and pulled open the door.
“You don’t have a future with that boy. You know that. Sooner or later, every wolf turns their back on their old life. If he’s the reason you’re insisting on throwing yourself into harm’s way—”
“Maybe you turned your back on your life,” I said, “but Kyle’s not you. And he’s not the only reason I’m going. Even if he was, you don’t have the right to give me advice.”
Before Hank could say anything else, I stepped out of the trailer and strode away.
I FOUND JASON STRETCHED OUT ON A BROKEN PORCH swing that someone had dragged under a cluster of trees. He stared up at the branches, too lost in thought to notice me. A low fire burned in a circle of stones a few feet away, casting him in an orange glow.
Jason’s blond locks—practically worshipped by every girl back home—had been trimmed to Thornhill regulation length.
On Kyle, the cut worked. It made him seem older and harder in a way that could make a girl’s knees go weak. On Jason, the look had the opposite effect. He appeared younger. Less like a soldier and more like a refugee. Without thick waves to draw your eye away, his face gave up the illusion of perfection. His nose was just a little too big and his mouth was just a little too full. He was still handsome—no haircut could change that—but it was the kind of handsome that snuck up on you.
A twig snapped underfoot as I took a small step forward.
“Hey,” Jason said, sitting up.
“Hey,” I mumbled, oddly embarrassed to have been caught watching.
“I was going to wait for you back at the community center,” he said, “but Eve offered to cut my hair. I figured it might make me less recognizable.” He ran a hand over his head. “How bad is it?”
“Not that bad.” I walked over to the swing and flopped down next to him. Not until I was sitting did I realize just how tired I was. Suddenly, my entire body felt heavy, like my limbs were encased in concrete, and it was all I could do not to close my eyes.
We both fell quiet, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. Around us, members of Hank’s pack moved through the trailer park—some preparing for the assault on Thornhill, others hanging out in small groups around campfires or looking for quiet places to catch a few hours of sleep. Twenty wolves had planned the breakout, but close to a hundred would be involved.
“I’m going with you,” I said after a while. “Tonight.”
He nodded as he reached down for a half-full bottle of beer that had been left next to the swing. It was the same brand Hank had been drinking.
Jason took a swig and then offered me the bottle. I shook my head and he finished it.
“You’re not going to try and talk me out of it?” I asked.
“Would there be any point?” He tossed the bottle lightly onto the grass.
“No,” I said—or tried to say. As soon as I opened my mouth, the word turned into a yawn.
“You’re exhausted.” Jason reached out and ran his knuckles—still raw from punching the glass divider in the
