She swiped the back of her hand against her wet cheeks and glanced down at the passenger seat. Amid the shards of glass, a dark silver ball winked at her in the sunlight. Must have bounced off the seat belt buckle. Keeping one eye on the traffic, she stretched out her hand and flicked it to the floor, out of sight.

A short time later, Claire turned into the parking lot of her apartment complex. She scanned the lot cautiously, her eyes lighting on a familiar four-by-four parked in front of her building. Cooper himself sat behind the wheel. Sinking low in her seat, Claire zipped past and exited the parking lot. Uncertain whether he recognized her, she glanced several times in the rearview mirror to make sure he didn’t give chase.

After a few minutes she sighed, confident she wasn’t being tailed, then sighed even deeper when she realized she was out of options. She couldn’t go to Gideon’s. Couldn’t go to her place. And yet she wasn’t ready to return to Darius.

Grimacing, she drove until she reached her parents’ house. Once there, Claire sat parked behind her father’s truck in the driveway for several minutes, staring in silence at the two-story brick house framed against the smoky gray of early evening. The house looked different, smaller than she remembered.

“What the hell,” she muttered, getting out of the car. After facing down lycans, her parents should be a piece of cake.

Claire usually entered the house without warning, but after her last visit she thought it wise to knock.

The door swung open following her three swift raps.

“Dad,” she greeted, her voice tight.

Genuine surprise etched his blunt features. “Claire,” he returned. “I thought you were at the lake house.”

“I came back sooner than expected.”

He looked over her shoulder. “New car?”

Luckily he couldn’t see the shattered window from where he stood.

She waved at the shiny Buick. “Just a friend’s.”

“Your car’s not running? I can take a look at it for you.”

Claire blinked. Although mechanically inclined, her father had never bothered to look after her car for her. Never even bought her a car. She bought her first car herself, in college, and he always left the care of it to her. Maybe this was a sign. Her father’s way of offering an olive branch?

Bitterness rose from the back of her throat to fill her mouth. It was clear he was trying, but she couldn’t help wishing he had tried years ago when she was a girl in need of a father. The irony wasn’t lost on her. Three days before the end and they suddenly had a chance at a relationship.

“My car’s fine. I just left it at the lake.”

He opened his mouth, and then shut it again, as if he had decided against prying.