“I—” Lou let out a heavy breath. “Thanks for dinner.” Then the soft pads of her feet as she moved away from the door. Part of me, even in my state, wanted to follow her. Wanted to crawl out from my burrow, go to her room, and curl around her. To be both protector and comforted at the same time. But that wasn’t my right—she wasn’t my pack.

She wasn’t mine.

I turned over, pulling at the blankets, causing the ferrets to grumble at me. I was so tired but couldn’t sleep. After ten minutes of this, I got up, went over to my dresser, and found my bag from Wicked Brews. I chewed one of the edible sleep aids I’d bought, the flavor of green things and bitter roots flooding my mouth. The chews didn’t taste good, but the sleeping draughts were worse because you woke up with an aftertaste that lingered.

The chews would help, and though I didn’t like the vulnerability of handing myself over to such a deep sleep without someone to watch my back, there wasn’t any other option. I was desperate.

As I sat back on my futon, my phone buzzed from its spot on the floor. I picked it up, blinking at the light of the screen, trying to fight the pull of the magic putting me to sleep. It was from Zoey. While I’d been fighting with Lou, I’d missed several messages telling me to call her. She’d texted three times in twenty minutes, which wasn’t like Zoey. She was calling now.

I hit the Accept button. “Zoey?”

Zoey sobbed into the phone. “Declan. Oh gods.”

A chill went up my spine. “Zoey? Are you okay? Is it Sid? What’s happened?”

“I got a call—from Ryder.”

Jack Ryder was the head of the foster pack that had taken us in all those years ago. He also acted as an intermediary should anyone from our old lives need to find us. Like the twins. Or the police.

Zoey was crying so hard it took her a second to get all the words out. “Declan, they’re out. Oh gods, they got out. It’s not on the news yet. Police…police wanted the pack to give us a heads up. Told them”—her breath hitched—“told them I’d call you.”

Fear lanced through me. Only two people we knew could install that level of fear in my sister. Someone had let our dad and stepmom out of prison. Ryder would have asked Zoey to pass along the information. One less phone call—one less chance of them exposing us. Warning us, but being as safe as they could.

We’d changed our names. We’d moved. Would that be enough? I wasn’t sure. And right now, there was nothing I could do. The sleep potion was hitting me strong—It was like trying to fight a deep undertow in the ocean. I was amazed I was still conscious.

“Zoey,” I slurred.

She made a broken noise, her voice frantic. “Are you okay? Are they already there?”