The ride was only a few minutes, but it would have taken Ada far too long to walk the distance. As she got out into the gathering twilight, Ada thanked her driver and felt her pocket for reassurance. She was second guessing her hasty agreement right about then.

Ada really needed to pick up some extra shifts; she was so close to getting a decent car. There was a 2004 Lexus ES in someone's driveway for sale just outside of town that was seriously under-priced. There wasn't much that could be wrong that she couldn't fix herself. Not much she hadn't seen at that point. She just hadn't been able to put away all the cash for it until then. She makes decent money, but nothing crazy. Whatever didn't go to essential went to furnishings, which she had gathered over the course of about eight months. They weren't fancy, but she managed to sell them pretty quickly to some recent graduates when she moved in with Sam. Good timing on that. That little influx of cash on top of what she was saving splitting rent had really sped up her savings. Every time she thought about that Lexus she got a little excited chill. It would feel so good to have a car of her own again.

Hers, unfortunately, was one of the cars searched during the warrant. She didn't have anything incriminating there, but she was in a hurry to get as far away from Scarborough as she possibly could just then. They impounded it after the case was dropped and she never went back to get it. She probably never would, not if she got this one. Her siblings knew that car as well as their own, and it was trash compared to the Lexus. Well, maybe if this shit with Charles and Jocelyn ever ended; she could clean it up and sell it for a couple thousand.

Noah got the door before she knocked, a shy, self-conscious smile on his face for a second. "I really appreciate this."

Ada tried to shrug casually. "No problem." She skirted past and kicked off her boots, which she hadn't bothered to lace. Something was cooking in a large skillet. "You okay?"

"I will be." He eased past, careful not to touch her on his way to the kitchen. "Have you eaten?"

"Yeah, thanks though. What are you making? It smells good."

He made a sound in his throat as he leaned over the cookbook. "Chicken Alfredo. I thought I would try a new recipe."

Ada sank into the armchair, as it had the best view of the room. Noah's shoulders were tense, bunched up his neck a bit. He stirred with methodical precision.

"He's bugging me," he said after a moment. "He wants to go for a run, doesn't give a shit how much it hurts."

"Does he normally talk to you directly?" Ada wasn't sure if he was going to answer her questions, but they were worth a try.

"Fairly often, yes."

"Is that common?"

He shrugged just before flipping the contents of the skillet with a precise flick. "Not really. I mean, they'll talk sometimes. I guess you can think of it like a movie theatre for one, except the people on screen can hear you. Some of them watch in silence, others don't pay attention in the slightest, others are more engaging. Some are bossy, others controlling."

"So yours is controlling?"

"And then some."

He shut off the stove, and Ada let him be for a minute, pondering that over. Sam described being in her other form as feeling like an out of body experience, or a vivid dream. She's aware of her body and the things going on, but in a detached sort of way, separated. Was the same true for her wolf in her primary form?

Noah took the sofa on the far side. "Want to watch something?"

While he navigated the menus, they debated on options. Ada liked horror, him not so much; he liked sitcoms, where Ada found them dull; action movies were hit and miss, and they couldn't agree on any one film. In the end, Ada talked him into giving Stranger Things a chance despite it having horror aspects. Ada swore up and down he would like it. She was right.

They didn't talk much, but they didn't have to. He would ask questions from time to time, and they would occasionally discuss something going on in the show, but otherwise conversation was minimal, and he seemed okay with that. Episodes slipped by.

Since the show was in English, Ada found they ended up switching at some point. It had been a while since she had last used it. Ada had finally been in Québec long enough that her accent wasn't the most obvious, and she wasn't as frequently interrupted to proceed in English "because it's probably easier" for her. Fluency had little to do with this assumption. Thankfully, her friends were chill about her occasional accent.

Ada's phone buzzed, and she jumped to check it, only to be disappointed by a marketing text. She was waiting for a very important response, one she could scarcely wait to receive. There was an intense scene on, so she figured Noah hadn't noticed her not-so-subtle reaction.

"Can I ask you something?" He didn't glance away from the screen.

Her heart kicked. "Sure."

"Who keeps texting you?"

Ada frowned at his profile. "What?" Keeps?

He shrugged lightly. "Sometimes you get messages that make you really tense. What is it? Crazy ex?"

Ada actually laughed. The thought of Hillebrandt as her scorned former lover was just too funny. It actually helped her forget for a moment how uncomfortable she felt knowing she wasn't as subtle as she thought. Not just this time, but the times before.

"No, that's not it. It's family bullshit." Her hand was tight around her phone; not entirely wrong, though Hillebrandt wasn't family.

This time he did glance at her. "What kind of bullshit?"

He hesitated. "For now can we leave it at I too have done some illegal shit I should probably be behind bars for? Me and my siblings?"

"The twins?"

"Yes."

"Got it." And he did leave it at that.

Ada was grateful. She didn't feel like getting into it just then. Sure, now that she had told the story once, it wasn't so hard to face. She was sure she would be ready to talk about it again soon; but after all, a little small talk did not a good friend make.

Noah shifted often. Sometimes for comfort, sometimes more of a twitch or a flinch. He turned a coaster over and over in his fingers, the tempo changing by the minute.

"Is he still talking to you?" she asked on a hunch, and he nodded. "Has he always done this?"

Noah seemed to mull this over for a while. "Not exactly. Children don't come into it right away. We are always full blooded werewolves, but the first change comes at a different time for everyone. The average, though, is around thirteen. So, no, I didn't always hear him, but once I changed for the first time, I was aware of his presence. It took a while to understand that Aidan and our cousins didn't experience this. Well, one did a little, but she got a handle on it."

"Oh, I didn't know that." Ada sipped her tea in thought. How frightening must that have been? "Is it possible for someone to be born a full werewolf but never turn?"

"There are stories, yes." Noah paused to watch a scene with the Demogorgon. "Right, so no one really knows for sure, but it's something of a myth among us. Some people believe it, some don't."

"And you?"

He glanced at Ada, a brief moment of surprise. "I don't know. I guess it's plausible. If diseases can go into remission, who's to say lycanthropy can't? No one really understands what caused it in the first place."

"Good point. Do you think it's a disease?"

"I guess, but look, I don't know the first thing about biology." Noah cringed at a jump-scare, then turned to Ada and said, "There's something I've been wondering."

"Shoot." She set her mug down, slinging her legs over the arm of the chair.

"Does this family bullshit have anything to do with why you're supposedly an amazing thief and driver—which I assume means getaway."

Ada's cheeks began to burn and she averted her gaze to the television. Eventually, she responded, "Pretty much all of it. And yeah, getaway."

Noah cocked a brow. "Have you ever been caught?"

Ada shook her head in response. "At least not in a chase. I've been busted mid-theft, but I was still young enough that my siblings had only to say that I was distraught over the death of our mother and acting out—she's very much alive, by the way. The worst I've faced is a lecture and a ride home in a squad car. My parents didn't even find out because they were at work."

Ada bit her lip to stop herself saying more. The words just kind of came, she didn't intend on telling him anything. It was sort of nice, though, to talk about it again. It's amazing how oppressive memories can become when you try to repress them.

Ada had two more things to thank for those situations, things she was horribly aware of. See, Toronto is a diverse place, and many of her childhood friends were not so privileged. Between being a woman and white, police tended to look the other way to her misdeeds. She wasn't proud of some of the things she had done.

The squad car ride was when she stopped enjoying their antics and began to really understand the implications of what they were doing. She became increasingly reluctant to assist her siblings, and when they left for university when Ada was twelve, she couldn't have been more pleased. She managed to turn her life around for a while, but Charles and Jocelyn came home for every holiday, and she wasn't free of their whims then. Knowing she was doing wrong, and doing something about it were two different mountains. She had mounted the former with some help, but the latter was still insurmountable.

Surprisingly, he grinned. "You've outrun the police?"

"At least four times." Ada shrugged, but didn't look at him. "Most times the car was fenced before it had even been reported missing. Jocelyn knew a guy."

"I have so many questions."

Ada could feel his eyes boring into her. "Some other time, perhaps."

He puffed air through his nose in amusement. "Is this what it's like for other people trying to talk to me? Aidan told me last week that I'm impossible to talk to."

Ada chuckled. "Am I impossible?"

"Not quite, but I think I get what he was saying now."

Ada cringed a little at being compared to him, but in this, he might be onto something. She knew he wasn't the most open person in the world. It didn't take long for her to figure out that she shouldn't talk about the things she did after school. To everyone else, Ada spent her nights doing art, too busy to hang out most of the time. It wasn't a total lie, but she should probably have stuck to canvas.

It would be wrong of her not to acknowledge her part in this. She certainly did things she shouldn't've without their help or prompting. On the other hand, those were all petty compared to the shit they pulled as a group. Tagging, a little vandalism—not of anything important, just abandoned buildings and crap like that.

The credits rolled, and Noah cancelled the timer for the next episode. "I'm going to bed. You can stay if you want, I don't care. Aidan put a lock on the outside of my door; just make sure you open it before you leave, I don't think I can fit through the window."

"Thanks, but I'll just walk. Are you sure you're all right?" Ada's hips cracked as she stood.

There was no sign of life in the street, though it was hard to see through the reflection on the glass. A peaceful walk home sounded like just the ticket. Besides, there was a knife in her pocket, should she need it.

"Yeah; I really appreciate you coming over like this," he murmured, and his gaze slid away from her own. "This was probably the last thing you wanted to do tonight."

Though she was inclined to agree, she pasted on a grin and said, "Nah, I don't mind."

Ultimately, it hadn't been the worst thing. She didn't have to pull her knife, and she even managed to relax eventually. Sure, she could have gotten some studying done and maybe enjoyed her dinner, but this was more important.

"Oh, did Aidan call you?" she asked, stepping into her boots.

"Yeah, he sounded pleased. Guess tomorrow morning is the last check-in."

"If all goes well. You might have to call me in the afternoon. Sam thinks they'll be back around dinner." Ada paused with her hand on the door. "That being said, don't be afraid to call me again if you need help. I get it ... I think."

Even though it was way too late, and she would absolutely regret it in the morning, Ada decided to take a bath when she got home. Another busy day she hadn't been counting on. She really needed some time to herself.

Thinking better of wine, she made tea instead, and fairly groaned in relief as she sank into the bubbly water. Her phone was on the lid of the laundry basket nearby. She wasn't hopeful as she typed it out, but she decided to try Hillebrandt again. Moments later, her phone rang. She put it on speaker.

"What's up?" No trace of the late hour was in his voice.

"Do you ever sleep?"

He sighed. "Is this a fucking social call?"

"No." She frowned at no one. "Pardon me for trying to be nice. Jeez, anyway, I wanted to run something by you."

Ada was jumping the gun bringing this up, but she was hoping it would spook him into doing anything to help. Even so, it was doubtful. He had no reason to help her.

"Is this about your siblings?" His chair squeaked, which meant he was home.

Yes, Ada talked with him often enough that she knew which chair was which. He only ever sat in the two, or his car. His couch was a decoration. He wasn't a very interesting man, to be honest. No one could be working as much as he did.

"Uh-huh. If I was to set up my siblings again without your help and deliver them with a bow and all, do you think you could talk the DA into reissuing that pardon?" Even as she said it, she could feel the steam building on the other end of the phone as his head began to boil.

"Whatever the fuck you're planning, end it. I'm on thin ice right now, I hold less sway than the custodians."

Her frown deepened. She moved slowly to put her feet up by the taps without disturbing the water too much. "What the hell did you do?"

"One of my case files is missing." A sharp rasp met her ears, sort of like sandpaper. "I'm not supposed to bring them home. I swear to God I left it on my desk when I got home from work, but I can't find it anywhere."

A chill went down her spine. "Hillebrandt." She had to pause, as her voice died at the end. "Tell me it was a random case." Silence. "Tell me it was anyone else."

The rasp began again, followed by a sigh. "I was going to call you soon,"—Ada's blood ran cold—"it's your case file. I swear, I just misplaced it. I will find it soon."

"Do you have a tool box?" Ada demanded, left hand tight on the edge of the tub.

"What? Uh, yeah, why?"

"Get it."

He did, grumbling the whole time. "Okay, why, what am I doing?"

"You live in a house, right?" He confirmed as much. "What sort of doors do you have?"

A long pause. "Normal ones. What the hell is this?"

"For fucks sake, how many exterior doors with key locks are there?"

"My front door." His tone cooled.

"Get to it, I'll call you back in a second." Ada hung up on him and redialed with video, making sure her own camera was turned off.

The screen was blurry as it connected, and then his face filled her screen. "All right, what am I doing and why? Also, I can't see you."

"Yeah, I'm in the bath." His hazel eyes went wide for an instant. The rasp she heard earlier must have been the stubble shading his jaw. "Turn your camera and show me your lock." At first glance, everything appeared to be in order, but she expected as much. "Okay, here's what you're going to do ..."

While he worked, Ada washed up—on mute, obviously. It took him ages to get the lock out and dismantled enough that she could see far enough into the chamber walls. If she thought it was anyone else, she might have had to look deeper to find the evidence she desired, but she knew Jocelyn well. There was a reason why Ada was the one they used to get into places. Jocelyn was patient, but not when it came to manual tasks. She grew easily frustrated when the thing she was working with didn't cooperate right away. As such, as soon as he turned on the flashlight and angled the camera just right, Ada saw what she dreaded. Deep, uneven horizontal gouges in the nickel from an aggressive hand at the plug.

Dread bathed her. "Keenan, you need to tell me right this minute every single file that was in that folder."

"What, why?" And can I put this back now?"

Ada was out of the tub now and dressed in her pyjamas, so she turned her camera on as she made her way downstairs. "Because Jocelyn was in your house. She has the file."

The front door was secure, and she made her way through the darkness to check the back. The house still smelled faintly of the chicken she made earlier. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she had skipped her evening snack.

"What the fuck? You're telling me now she knows how to pick locks, too?"

"I never mentioned that?"

"No, Jesus fucking ..." a long, heavy sigh. "I can't believe I was so careless.

"If she had the steel to break into your place, you must have had it there pretty often, huh?"

"What?" The defeat was evident in his tone.

"Jocelyn was lookout, she picked maybe two locks in all the time we did this. She was the one who taught me, remember? I swear, I mentioned that at least." Ada sauntered to bed then, exhausted and brimming with dread. "Anyway, she doesn't take risks. She has to have all the information before she'll do anything. She's been watching you for a while, maybe they both have."

Hillebrandt scratched behind his ear, sending more harsh rasping over the speakers as he reached his well-kept fade. "No, I would have seen Charles. I've been staring at his mug shot every day for nearly two years. I thought I would recognize her, too."

Ada shook her head, rounding the banister at the top of the stairs. Her toes sank deep into the soft carpet. "Jocelyn is a big fan of makeovers. She went through a different style every year of high school."

The last time Ada had seen her, she had her corn-silk hair coloured auburn and shorn at the shoulders. She had gone so far as to have her brows and lashes done to match. To say she was thorough would be inadequate.

"Fuck me, I'm going to have to tell the captain." He actually looked a little frightened.

"I need to know, what information on me is in that folder?" Ada fell into bed beside Percy, who gave her a withering glare.

"Social media handles, phone number, email, that's it. I don't have your address."

Percy forgave her and settled onto her chest, whipping her nose with his tail. "Let me get one thing straight: I'm doing something about this with or without your help. I hope you'll do your best to help me, but if not, whatever, I get it. I'm tired of this. I don't want to run anymore. I've finally got something good."

Something like compassion bled into Hillebrandt's eyes. "I'll see what I can do. Call you tomorrow."