6
Jackson
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up as I walk to the Range Rover in the solar panel-covered parking. I lift my nose to the air and sniff, but all I smell is the cool spring air of the desert.
The moon beckons me, makes me itchy to shift and hunt for Kylie.
I reach the vehicle and stop.
A dark head is visible in the passenger seat of my car. I know immediately it’s her.
My body surges into emergency mode, the shift upon me. I don’t know what to think—someone’s murdered her and put her in there. Or that she’s waiting to kill me. Or she’s committed suicide and left her body for me to find.
I know it’s Kylie, and getting to her is a goddamn emergency. I rip open the door.
She’s not dead. She’s not even hurt. And she’s not holding a gun.
All I find is a pale, tear-strea
