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  "Just curious," I say. "Look, I hope she gets back to normal and stays that way. And you know I gave her the lead back. She auditioned and she earned it to begin with."

  "Did I mention you're a traitor?" Sarah asks, slapping her hand over her mouth.

  Noah turns away and gulps his drink again. The adrenaline smell lingers and upsets my stomach. How does Cayden cope with this? Now I understand why the Lowes have pulled away from human society all their lives. Knowing what everyone's feeling is sickening.

  "Well, it's not fair she got hurt," I finish.

  Noah lowers his shoulders. The smell dissipates. "It's not," he agrees.

  It's clear I won't get answers from Noah. I allow the conversation to steer away from Olivia and to some of Noah's jokes. Now it's time for an act. I pretend to laugh. Darkness covers the outside world and deepens, letting the lights cast a warm glow on the wooden walls of the coffee shop. But I can't have fun. I want away from Teeyah's. An invisible wall separates me from my friends.

  And it's clear I won't get any farther here. I check the calendar on my phone. Seven days before the full moon. Then me, Cayden, Aunt May, and the other Lowes will get forced into a transformation, and we might have to kill Olivia before she can infect anyone else.

  There has to be another way.

  I gulp the rest of my cappuccino and thank Noah for the treat. The adrenaline doesn't return for the rest of our time at Teeyah's. By the time we leave, full dark has fallen over Breckenridge and I have to zip up my jacket to shut out the damp chill. I smell the air, trying not to make it obvious. Nothing unusual comes—just countless dinners cooked by tired workers at the ends of their shifts—but as I open my car door, an idea hits me.

  Olivia's mother is a doctor, and likely took Olivia as a patient at the local hospital. If I can get into her medical records, it might give us the answer we need. It'll be easier than asking Olivia herself, who will stalk away and tell me where to go.

  And then I'll know what to do.

  Chapter Two

  After I drop off Noah, Sarah, and Ellie at their houses, I linger in front of Ellie's, debating on what to do next. Checking my phone tells me the time's going on seven. Aunt May still wants me home at a decent time. I assume trying to impose rules on me is her way of clinging onto the old life we shared where we wore our pendants that prevented us from turning. Where I had no clue about my legacy.

  Pack rules say I should talk to Cayden before trying to spy on Olivia this way. He's the alpha, and the one meant to decide. And trying to uncover medical records is super illegal. I have nothing to do with the medical field, but Mr. Yugo, the Health teacher, drilled the fact into our heads last year.

  But after thinking, I reason that having to kill someone is worse. I grab at my neck and close my fingers on air. My hands close on air where my pendant used to hang, and Aunt May has assured me there's no going back. Suppressing our nature now would mean giving up Breck to the wolves who would destroy it. And once turned, Aunt May says, we can't become human again.

  But could a pure silver pendant help Olivia?

  As soon as I think of it, I start the car back up. The Beater coughs and sputters to life and the headlights fall on Ellie's old house. Pulling out, I punch in a search for the local hospital, Mountain Ridge, and activate my GPS. It's a twenty minute drive and I haven't had to visit, ever, so I need the help.

  Perhaps Olivia's mother is working tonight and I can catch her. Olivia used to tell everyone she worked in the ER, which means the ground level. And if she's not there, I must find where they keep the medical records—and hope they still keep paper ones.

  I take off after texting Aunt May and telling her I'm at Cayden's. She responds with a smiley face which makes me feel bad about lying to her. I'll be leaving our territory tonight. The surrounding areas are still open to the Savage Wolves.

  The drive to the hospital takes me along winding mountain roads with only a guardrail to prevent me from falling into the abyss. But whenever I take my gaze from the headlights, I'm able to focus and make out the outlines of each tree below. My vision has improved since the change, enabling me to see more detail at night. While the landscape is nowhere near as easy to study as in the daytime, I can navigate if my headlights were to quit.

  The GPS orders me to take a turn.

  "Yes, your highness," I say, obeying.

  Mountain Ridge is a small hospital on the side of yet another mountain, giving off a white glow and illuminating the surrounding trees. I park among other, more well-to-do cars after the gate rises to let me into the ER parking. I park. As I go to get up, my foot brushes something on the floor of my car.

  The pistol with the silver bullets.

  Someone must have returned it to my car after I took the bite.

  Looking down, a chill washes over me as I eye the weapon peeking out from under my seat. With my foot, I push it back into the shadows. While the weapon unnerved me before, the sight of it now sends an ice pick through my heart. Inside that pistol are silver bullets, capable of killing me, Cayden, Aunt May, Everly, and Remo. I wonder who put the weapon back in my car after I lost it at the clearing. Either Cayden or Aunt May must have. It's not as if I'll be using it to fight. Sure, it belonged to my grandfather and then my mother, so it's a family heirloom, but what place does the old pistol have in my life now?

  But as soon as I take my foot off it, the weapon slides back out, pushed by food bags and other junk already under my seat. My necklace sits on top like a tiny chain snake, coiled like it's ready to strike. The sword pendant points in my direction, daring me to pick it up.

  Cayden or Aunt May left my other heirloom here, too.

  For the first time in my life, the sight of my pendant sends a chill down my spine. Olivia returns to my thoughts. If the pendant suppressed my nature for almost my entire life, and stopped Aunt May and my father from transforming when they hit puberty, then it should work for Olivia, right? Why hasn't anyone, but me thought of this?

  Gulping, I pick up the pendant, not knowing what to expect.

  The metal carries a chill. No burn follows as I close my fist around it. But my next breath is dull and I can barely smell the motor oil and leather seats in the surrounding vehicles. The parking lot darkens as I hold the chain. My senses have weakened. Even in human form, the silver is affecting me, but it doesn't hurt to hold.

  I turn the cabin light on—at least it still works—and turn the pendant over in my other hand. Aunt May tore it off as I bled out from the bite, but the clasp is still intact. Someone can still wear this. Since Olivia hasn't turned yet, can this stop it from even happening? Can it hold back the Savage Wolf that will want to rise to the surface and kill?

  I think of Noah and how crushed he sounded earlier today.

  I scramble out of the car and enter the hospital. A woman with a coughing toddler occupies the nurse behind the counter, and five others wait in the ER. The acrid scent of illness, along with antiseptic, fills the room. The smells are noticeable even with weakened senses. A bad taste rises in my mouth and I check the ER for any sign of Olivia's mother. I've seen her before. She looks like an older version of Olivia and works long hours, treating influenza, abdominal pain, and sports injuries.

  I'll play Noah up as the awkward guy he is.

  Taking a seat, I wait and squeeze the pendant tighter, dulling my sense of smell further, but it doesn't take away the saliva, bile, and spray cleaners. Machines beep throughout the building. In one of the nearby exam rooms, a man argues with someone about the four hour wait time. A janitor walks past, sweeping tracked-in dirt and pine needles from the floor, while orderlies wheel people in and out of the ER. It's backed up tonight, because after an hour, a coughing guy gets up and walks out, having given up on the wait.

  And then I spot a dark-haired woman in a white coat walking out of some double doors. She smells of antiseptic and latex gloves. Like Olivia, she wears her hair back, but Dr. Bertram doesn't slather on purple lipstick or makeup. She's practic
al, and I hope, not as stuck up as her daughter.

  I rise from my chair as soon as I see her checking a clipboard. In a few strides, I make it across the room, drawing stares from two patients. Why is a healthy girl waiting in the ER?

  "Dr. Bertram. Right?" I ask, stopping before her.

  She faces me. "Correct." Bags hang under her eyes, betraying a long shift.

  "Sorry to bother you, but I'm here for...for a guy at school," I say. "He wanted to give Olivia a present. If you could hand this to her that would be great. Tell her it's from a secret admirer." I hold out my silver pendant.

  Dr. Bertram glares at me. I'm wasting her time and interrupting important work. "This is not the time for high school politics."

  Like mother, like daughter. Great. "Please, just hand this to her," I say. "The guy wanted to congratulate Olivia for her part in the play. He was just too nervous if you know what I mean. And Olivia would never take this from me personally." I could have gone to the Bertrams' house, but with a gate, groundskeeper, and alarm, even a werewolf might not make it inside.

  "Okay," she says with a quick nod, eyeing her clipboard and keeping it out of my view. "Slip it into my pocket and I'll make sure she gets it. Now unless you're waiting for someone, you need to leave."

  "Will do." I do as she says, sliding my heirloom into her white coat pocket to sit next to pens and crumpled papers. As soon as I release it, the hospital smells assault me with full force.

  A pang fills my heart. My pendant represents a life I no longer have. But I'm with Cayden now and part of another world.

  Dr. Bertram stands before double doors that lead to the rest of the hospital, leaving me no choice but to go back outside and hope she remembers to give the gift to Olivia—and that Olivia wears it and doesn't have to turn or die. I'll find another way into the hospital and continue my search for medical records. Heading to the rotating doors, I reach out to push them open, but freeze when a new scent hits me.

  Rotting wood and dirt.

  My insides freeze as I exhale. I take another breath as a young guy in a hoodie and pushes through, holding his arm close to his chest. But on the next breath, the scent has vanished. The guy passing me smells like adrenaline, iron, and sweat with a trace of pizza. A broken arm, maybe. He marches up to the desk and leans over it, and as I'm pushing my way out of the ER, I hear him speak two strained words that freeze me all over again.

  "Dog bite."

  I stop in the middle of the rotating doors. Though the glass panel has closed the gap between the ER and the entryway behind me, and the sounds and smells dull, I can still listen.

  "Are you bleeding?"

  "I was, but I wrapped it up."

  "How long ago did this happen?"

  "When my friends and I were in the woods two hours ago."

  "Did you see the dog?"

  "Not well. We were drinking a little, and it was dark. Please, just get me a doctor. This hurts like hell!"

  "I know, I know. Please fill out this paperwork and we'll get you back to take your vitals."

  "I'm bleeding from a bite that might get infected!"

  "You must take a seat and wait for someone to bring you back. We'll get to you as soon as we can." The nurse speaks as if the man is a child asking his parents how much longer their road trip will take.

  The man sighs and stalks over to a seat. "I might as well wait and go to urgent care."

  Stomach turning, I sniff again, but the rotten wood scent has vanished. Only sickness and antiseptic remain. Exiting the doors and emerging into the night, I take a breath. The man might have been sitting on a rotting log if he was out in the woods drinking with his buds. That would account for the smell. And maybe a dog attacked him. Dogs are more common than anything else around here. I could be overreacting.

  Or I'm not reacting enough.

  My phone buzzes with a text. I pull it out. Cayden's sent me a message.

  Where are you?

  I stare at it. Cayden's never sent me this question before.

  Investigating Olivia, I text back.

  But where are you at?

  Sighing, I respond, the hospital.

  She's there?

  No. Her mother works here. And a guy in the ER says he has a dog bite.

  Just a few seconds after I hit Send, my phone blows up again. Then you shouldn't be out there alone.

  Balking, I eye the phone and gulp. Cayden's not the possessive type, but the series of texts don't feel right. I'm an independent person and able to defend myself. I smell nothing wrong right now.

  You still shouldn't have wandered off.

  "Cayden," I say, my voice low and savage. Then I swallow, trying to clear it as a shudder races down my spine. During the past couple of weeks, I've tried to push my changes to the side, but the longer I spend like this, the more obvious it becomes that things won't ever feel the same again. The world might have opened, but at the same time it's closed. There are pack rules.

  Everly, Remo, and Aunt May would tell me this is the way things are. What the alpha says goes. I couldn't care less about that. Cayden's father decided not to engage the Baltic Wolves until it was too late and Olivia landed in a potential mess. He wouldn't fight back until Wyatt had to die. Until the Lowe parents had to follow him into death. The system's flawed. Cayden of all people should see that.

  I'm coming.

  He leaves me with that final message.

  "Now you can't stay away," I mutter. At least I have about twenty minutes to poke around and find medical records. It beats waiting and seeing what Olivia will do next.

  So I circle to the front of the hospital and walk in through the main entrance. The two receptionists pay no attention and I push through a set of double doors. Having never been here, I'm not sure where to go, so I search for a map. The closest thing I find to one is near the elevator and beside the cafeteria which reeks of grease and everything unhealthy.

  And it's just a list of what each floor is. Nothing that shouts records. I wish Aunt May had watched more medical thrillers but no such luck.

  The basement.

  Isn't that where they store everything in hospitals, besides broom closets?

  Boarding the elevator, I press the button for the basement. The elevator dings and I descend. The doors hesitate to open and I wonder if I need security clearance.

  But they open, and a long, bare hallway lined with double doors stretches in front of me. Spare beds line the hall and I sniff, trying to see if anyone's down here. The stench of cleaning supplies and rubber gloves fills my lungs and I hold back a cough. My sense of smell is overwhelming.

  But I get off the elevator and walk down the hall. Machines hum and I assume they're freezers. Blood storage, or the morgue. The morgue. A shudder races down my spine as I think of poor Wyatt and Cayden's parents.

  All three lie buried in the wilderness where they fell, I tell myself.

  It was best not to get the authorities involved.

  I hurry past a set of double doors where the freezer hum gets the loudest. At the end of the hall another set of doors has a small wooden sign glued to the rightmost door: RECORDS. RESTRICTED ACCESS.

  They won't let just anyone walk inside. I stop before the doors and peek through the glass windows. There's a combination lock beside the door and the light above the number panel's red. I peek through the narrow glass window of one door. Shelves upon shelves of folders, all with colored letters on the tabs, stretches wall to wall. Mountain Range still keeps paper records, despite the computer age. I'm in luck.

  If only I could get inside.

  I grab the handle and tug, but the door remains locked. I pull harder and the lock groans under stress. Maybe with my increased strength, I can break the lock and get inside. All I have to do is steal Olivia's folder and go. A slimy feeling covers me as I think of theft, but I've already done worse. And if we don't know the truth about Olivia, I could fight—and kill—a classmate my best friend loves.

  Taking a breath, I cock my legs
and pull again with my full body weight. The right door buckles, then flies open. I have to jump to keep the door from hitting me in the face.

  I catch my footing without thinking.

  A shrill ringing starts somewhere above, on the first floor. I've tripped an alarm.

  Cursing, I burst into the Records room, bounding across the floor to the shelves in three steps. Vision sharpening, I lock into hunting mode. Bertram...five folders with the name exist, and the last one reads Bertram, O. Has to be Olivia. I snatch the folder and run to the exit, but not before I hear the elevator humming as it rises. My elevator. Someone's called it. When it returns and the doors open, security will greet me and they won't let me out of here with this manila folder in hand.

  My phone buzzes. I close the Records door, but what good will it do now? Another elevator might take me out of here—there must be over one exit from the basement—but my hearing doesn't reveal one. Narrow hallways branch off, but I trust none. The elevator dings above. Feet thud as the security guards board it.

  Hugging the records, my gaze darts around. The faint smell of decay meets my nostrils.

  The morgue.

  I remember reading somewhere that hospitals won't parade sheeted bodies past the cafeteria or anyone else. So they won't use the main elevator. There must be a back entrance and elevator to the morgue and I need to find it.

  I push through the double doors, breaking another lock, and into a gray, dim room with a wall of fridge doors and two metal exam tables, both empty. Mountain Range Hospital is smaller and therefore slow in the death department. I close the door behind me and sidestep away from it.

  The elevator dings. Doors hesitate and then slide open. I can't smell the security guards through the walls, but I can hear their footfalls as they race to the Records room. I have precious seconds. If they go inside, I might make it back to the elevator—

  "There's no one in here," a guard says.

  "The door's broken."

  "Search the others." Footfalls pound out of the Records room.

  "This is just like last week. Who the heck is breaking these doors?"