Wes bit into an apple. The crunch of his teeth breaking the skin of the fruit made me shudder. He closed the refrigerator and rounded the kitchen counter to sit next to me. Part of me hated how close he was. I wanted to be alone. It was easier to pretend that the Black Raptor Society didn’t exist if there was no one else around. The other part of me was eternally grateful for Wes’s presence. He smelled of honey and cinnamon, and if I closed my eyes, I could almost fool myself into thinking that we were back in our own apartment.
“Hey,” said Wes softly. His apple-free hand reached around to massage my neck. I tucked my chin into my chest to give him better access. As he kneaded the tension out of my muscles, he asked, “How are you doing? We haven’t really talked lately. Just the two of us.”
“Oh, I’m peachy.”
“Nicole, come on. Be honest with me.”
I scooched away from him, the need to be alone overpowering the comfort of his touch. “What do you want me to say, Wes? Honestly, I don’t know what to feel. We were this close—” I held my finger and thumb a centimeter apart to illustrate my frustration “—to finally getting rid of Catherine Flynn. I thought we were almost done with this crap. I got my hopes up. I guess I’ll try to avoid doing that in the future.”
“This isn’t the end—”
“But I want it to be!” I declared. As the volume of our conversation rose, Henry’s head perked up, distracted momentarily from his failed attempts at contacting Natasha. I took hold of Wes’s shirt, bunching the fabric up in my fists as I drew him closer to me. “Let’s just go,” I whispered. “Let’s just run. I don’t care anymore. Let the Raptors do whatever they want. Forget them.”
Wes gently tugged his shirt out of my unyielding grasp. “You don’t mean that.”
“No, I do,” I promised. “This is the second time Natasha has decided to abandon me. Why should I feel obligated to reverse that decision?”
“We still don’t know if that’s what really happened,” said Wes. He reached out to continue massaging my neck, but I took another step away from him. He sighed. “Nicole, please. You don’t know what Natasha was thinking. Think about it. Hastings could have forced her hand. Any number of things could have happened between them while we were still at Waverly. Maybe he threatened her.”
“I don’t care.”
“Yes, you do. She’s your mother. I know you, Nicole. You’re stressed out and overwhelmed, but we’re going to figure this out. Besides, what about Lauren Lockwood? Are you just going to leave her to fend for herself?”
I hesitated, turning away from Wes so he couldn’t read the expression on my face.
“We’re basically the reason her father’s dead, you know,” he continued, taking another bite of his apple. “He died trying to save us. You may not owe Natasha anything, but Lauren has saved your ass multiple times.”
“Fine, you’re right,” I conceded. I kicked the counter out of frustration but instead of relieving my anger, I only succeeded in bruising my big toe. “For one minute, though, you couldn’t have just entertained the thought of getting out of here? Would it have been that hard to pretend that we could just run away without having to worry about saving anyone else?”
He chewed thoughtfully before answering. “I don’t see the point of wasting time imagining a better world. After all, since the dawn of time, humankind has always had to fight for a better world. I doubt the universe would excuse us from the battle simply because we asked it to.”
Across the room, Henry’s phone plinked out a merry tune that failed to match the strained atmosphere. Wes and I quelled our conversation as he prodded the screen to answer the incoming call.
“Hello? Oh, Olivia. One second.” Henry wandered over to the kitchen island, turned on his speakerphone, and placed his cell in the center of the counter for all of us to hear. “Any news on Flynn or the library?”
“In part. Lauren’s here too by the way.”
“Hi, everyone,” said Lauren.
Olivia’s voice was grainy over the call as she took over the conversation again. “Henry, did I miss something, or did you intentionally send your wife in here to surrender Holden Hastings and the Raptors’ charter? Because honestly I’m failing to see how that’s going to help us.”
Wes shot me a concerned look, but I only shrugged. I had half-expected this was the case. From the few conversations I’d had with Natasha, her fear of Catherine Flynn’s influence had shone through. But what had she hoped to gain by handing over the charter?
“Natasha gave us the slip,” said Henry, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the kitchen counter.
“Why?”
“Because apparently she killed Catherine’s husband,” I said.
There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line before Lauren asked, “Wait, do you mean Uncle Harrison?”
“That’s the one.”
“Nicole, my uncle isn’t dead.”
My gaze snapped up to meet Henry’s. I snatched the phone from the counter, holding it to my ear just in case I had misheard something.
