There was a pause. “Do I even want to know why it looks like the junk food aisle of a convenience store threw up inside the fridge and every cabinet?”

Lips twitching, I struggled to keep my face blank. “I...got hungry yesterday, and ordered groceries through one of those delivery services.”

Closing the fridge door, he placed a carton of eggs on the island, next to what appeared to be his jar of coconut oil. “And thirsty?”

I lifted a shoulder.

“Because I didn’t even know there were that many versions of Coca-Cola,” he said.

“There are a lot of different kinds,” I agreed. “Lime. Cherry. Vanilla. Regular. Sugar-free. Real cane sugar...”

He placed a skillet on the stove top. “It took me about ten minutes to find the coconut oil.”

“Really?” I widened my eyes, giving him my best shocked face.

“Yeah, for some reason, it was tucked away behind mixing bowls and a tub of lard,” he said, cracking an egg perfectly over the skillet. “Actual lard.”

“How strange.”

“Indeed.” Another egg was cracked. “I’m making breakfast. Eggs and toast.” Another pause. “Unless you want to finish off that bag of chips or the packet of chocolate chip cookies.”

Unable to hide my grin any longer, I ducked my chin. “Eggs and toast will be perfect.”

“Uh-huh,” he replied, and I held the edges of the blanket over my mouth, smothering my giggle. He looked up, and even though I couldn’t see it, I felt the drollness of his expression. “I talked to Roth. He’s going to meet us in about two hours.”

“Great.”

Breakfast was almost normal. The silence between us as we ate eggs and toast—Zayne did not eat the toast, because like Hell was I buying whole wheat—was a lot less tense than it had been the past couple days. When I was finished, I rinsed my plate and excused myself.

There was a phone call I needed to make.

Closing the bedroom door behind me, I picked up my phone and called Thierry. He answered on the second ring.

“Trinity,” he said, his deep voice a balm to my soul, which made what I needed to ask and say even harder.

I wasn’t going to beat around the bush. “There’s another Trueborn.”

“What?” he gasped, and unless Thierry was a skilled actor, his shock was real.

I sat on the bed. “Yes. I met him yesterday.”

“Tell me what happened,” he said, and I heard a door close on his end.

Quickly, I broke down why we’d been at the school and the confrontation in the tunnel. I didn’t skip over being injured. “I have no idea what his name is or who he’s related to, but he knew me. He has to be the Harbinger.” I took a shallow breath. “Did you know that this could be possible? That there was another?”