Hunter's key gave a loud click in the lock and the door opened with a grinding noise. The driveway behind was quiet—so much to the point where one of the leaves that hung limp on the tree branches would be heard loud and clear if it fell to the ground. It was as if stillness had consumed everything around us, waiting for words, sounds, or anything that could shatter it.

The light on our kitchen shone over the bushes across the street. I pictured Dad watching recorded versions of Mom's shows in the living room, dozing off with his head propped on the arm of the sofa like he'd done many times before. Part of me wanted to cross the street and curl up against him, fall asleep to outdated episodes of The Bachelor together, but I couldn't find enough will inside of me to face eighteen years of a perfectly crafted lie—not twice in the same night.

The house was pitch black when we stepped inside. Shadows crept in every corner, and a paranoid voice inside my head started to send the word run! into my mind, scared by the possibility that Roy would be hiding in them. They faded after Hunter flicked the lights on, throwing his keys into a pot on the console table.

"Where's Logan?"

"He's on a date," said Hunter with a lopsided smile. He walked over to the rest of the light switches on the first floor, turning them on one by one. "Wasn't here when I got back earlier, and he sent me a text asking whether an Italian restaurant made a good first impression or not."

"He doesn't look like the dating type of guy," I mused.

"When I first met him, he didn't look like the kind of guy who would shape bushes for fun or binge-watch every new original show on Netflix either. You'd be surprised."

Hunter leaned back against the banister, arms crossed over his chest. He was wearing a tight navy polo that hugged his muscles and a pair of olive green chinos. He looked showered and put together despite the faint bruises on his cheek, which made me wonder if I looked as disastrous as before—if I looked as different, dirty, and alienated as I felt.

The memory of Roy's words waltzed into my mind like a poisonous reminder: I just want a moment with you. I want to forget about everything else.

How could I do it? How could I not notice it was him before he kissed me?

Hunter's eyes narrowed. "Olivia?"

"I haven't told you why I went to Teardrop in the first place."

"Did something happen with your father?" he asked, taking a step forward. I recoiled back involuntarily, fearing Roy would show in my eyes instead of him if he got too close, and he flinched. "I don't understand.... What's wrong?"

"I did speak to my dad." I tried to keep my voice steady. It wasn't his fault. "He's a Keeper, too—and I may have an idea as to why nobody has been able to feel what I am all these years. Well, nobody except Gideon."

"Why?" Hunter asked automatically.

"Dad told me a witch had supposedly suppressed his powers when he found out Mom wanted to have a baby. She told him there was less risk on passing them on to me that way..." I scoffed. "It certainly didn't work—although it did end up hiding them somehow. I don't really know how, but then he started telling me that I should stay away from this world and that I had to hide like everyone else and—"

I choked on my words, feeling them burn in the back of my throat.

He tried to move closer with measured steps but stopped himself halfway. "Talk to me, Olivia."

"And I don't want to," I said quietly. "I don't want to run away and hide. Not if it means people like David Harris or Zoe get hurt because of it."

Hunter let go of a sigh. "You don't have to hide. But what happened to that kid and what happened to Zoe, neither of them were your fault."

"I was there with Zoe, right when they were taking her."

He crossed his arms. "And what did you plan to do? You were outnumbered, and believe me, if they wanted Zoe dead, they would have killed her right there." My eyes widened at the sound of his words. They weren't aggressive, but they pointed to a dark undertone. Like he had seen the scenario plenty times before. "These people work like this. They don't waste time in fantasy kidnappings that end in murder. If they took Zoe it's because they need her to be alive."

"I hope you're right," I muttered.

"I promise we're gonna find her," he said, letting his arms rest on his sides again. He looked tired, and I noticed the cut on his lip was beginning to swell. "Did anything else happen with your dad?"

"Well, I didn't want to speak with him anymore," I said, staring down at the polished concrete flooring below us. It resembled a grey sky, packed with clouds ready to burst. "So I went to my room. I wanted to be alone and away from him—as horrible as it sounds, I did. I wanted the lies to be over. I wanted..." I wanted to talk to you.

Hunter said nothing. He was visibly struggling when I looked back up. His blue eyes were searching my face for clues to guide him to the answers he wanted—answers he wouldn't get unless I told him. Wariness had settled in his muscles, which made it harder for me to speak. I didn't want to say anything in the wrong way, but I also didn't know if there was such thing as a right explanation for what happened.

"There was someone in the room when I got there."

He hesitated. "Someone?"

"You. You were there."

"I don't understand..."

"I should've known it wasn't really you, though," I mumbled. "But for some reason I can see through some glamours and I have to tire myself out for others—and maybe I didn't see him because I wanted it to be you. I wanted it to be real."

His breathing changed. It became loud, short. He stood still for what felt like ages before shaking his head and cutting the distance between us. His hands reached out for me in the slightest of ways, but he held them close to him—as if he were afraid to hurt me if he crossed that invisible wall that was keeping us two feet away from each other.

"Who was in your bedroom, Olivia?"

I said the words carefully, but I knew that wishing for him not to react badly was like throwing a stone into a lake and hoping ripples didn't form around it. "Roy was there... He looked just like you."

A stony expression took over Hunter's face. His blue eyes smoldered, however, with a newfound wave of emotions: confusion, pain, anger. He started to look flushed, his mouth thin and pale. And when he spoke, his voice had taken on a dark edge I'd never heard before. "Did he hurt you?"

I was halfway to convincing myself that he deserved to know what happened, but how could I tell him? How could I tell him I had kissed Roy? Disgust and guilt were gliding through my veins, and I shivered. The hairs on my nape rose with the thought of his teeth biting into my bruises. "I'm fine."

"Olivia—"

"He wanted to talk. He said he found a way to do the ritual without killing me, something about taking my essence, using it, and then giving it back to me." I swallowed. "Only if I stayed with him afterwards."

He looked appalled all of a sudden. "Wait—you don't actually believe him, do you? Is that why you went to see Gideon? Are you considering this?"

I stared at him. "What? Jesus, Hunter, no. I don't believe him. And even if what he said was true, I won't just leave everything to join his secret, evil cult. I went to see Gideon because of what Sally said. I told you she said he could help."

Hunter combed a hand through his hair, black strands cascading over his forehead. "Can he?"

"He said he would figure something out," I said, avoiding the part where I made a potentially sketchy deal with him in return. "And he told me to meet with him tomorrow at his apartment since you and the guys were already heading there."

His voice lowered a tone. "We wanted to see if he could track Zoe, but I guess it'll be harder now that Roy has her. Maybe he can talk to some Vultures, see if they know who took her."

"He also knew the witch who helped the Vulture," I said. "He said her name was Tara."

Hunter shrugged. "Doesn't ring any bells. Gideon has way too many friends to keep track of all of them."

"I'm hoping I get to keep at least one friend after this is over," I admitted. "I still don't know how I'm going to be able to look at Will in the eye and tell him what happened."

"I can do it if you want."

I gave a soft shake of my head. "No, it's all right. Zoe wanted me to tell him a couple of things."

He looked down at his hands, which were still lingering midair, and moved them slowly until his fingertips grazed my arms. "Can I ask you something?"

I nodded.

He studied my face. "What did he offer you?"

"What?"

"Roy," he said, his words careful. "What did he offer you?"

"Does it matter?"

"It matters to me. I know him. I've seen what he's capable of first handedly. He's a master when it comes to tricking people into believing that by sacrificing themselves they are doing the right thing, when in reality he's just getting rid of them in the easiest way possible—by making them lose their own will." He sighed. "I don't want that for you."

"He said he would keep you safe," I said. "He told me he could talk with the Infernal Council and bargain your freedom and safety for the people I cared about."

Silence hung in the air between us like the suspended moment before a glass shatters on the ground. I scanned his face for a reaction. Part of me expected him to combust, to light up like a match thrown into a tank filled with gasoline, but his expression's jagged edges softened. Instead of angry and resentful, he looked...sad—embarrassed.

"I'm well acquainted with my past and the consequences of it, Liv," he said. "I don't need you to save me, and I want to hear you promise me you won't listen to him. Whatever he might offer, as tempting as it seems, it's not better than what he will do to you and everyone else once he gets what he wants. Giving your life wouldn't save them; it's a death sentence."

His words were stirring a bad feeling of foreboding inside of me, and I was fighting as hard as I could to keep it at bay. "I just want to help you."

"Promise me," he repeated sternly. "Promise me you won't let him mess with your mind."

"I promise."

He smiled faintly. "You know, I underestimated you."

"What do you mean?"

"When I first saw you back at Will's party, I saw a beautiful girl with a ridiculously drunk best friend, who happened to ruin one of my favorite shirts, by the way," he said, shaking his head. "The thing is, I didn't think much of it. I simply wanted to have fun, live the life of a normal teenager for once. This was supposed to be my fresh start, and when I met you, I felt like I could have it. Fun girl with a gorgeous smile and secrets hiding in her eyes? Of course I was into it."

Something other than foreboding settled inside of me. The guilt, the sense of foreignness, and all of the dark things that had been biting at the back of my conscience were wiped away by genuine curiosity. This was a side of him I hadn't seen yet—a much vulnerable side.

"I've never had anything serious with anyone, though," he continued. "I guess that after what happened with Pauline we all learned that loving someone is like handing them a gun and hoping they don't press the trigger on you...or get killed before they have a chance to do so." He swallowed, his muscles tensing. "And I was okay with that. But then every time you opened your mouth I got to know a little bit more of you, and I like that, Olivia. I really do."

My lungs were having a hard time doing their job properly, which made talking a harder task than it already was. "I like it too."

He shook his head. "I really envy books and movies. They make it look so easy. Three days in and two people can tell each other they love one another, fight the villain, and then get a happy ending and a happy life like it's no big deal.... But I honestly don't know how to do that—I don't know how to give you that certainty and reassurance that it's all going to be okay. I say it all the time and I won't stop, but sometimes I have no idea how real that statement actually is."

My hand found its way to his cheek, where I could feel the beginning of stubble starting to tickle my fingertips. "This is real," I said. "You and me, right here, right now."

He leaned closer, our foreheads barely touching each other. "How did you know it wasn't me in that room? How did you know it was Roy?"

For the first time, the answer was as clear as water in my mind. I finally understood that the reason why it was hard for me to see Anthony's face instead of Roy's back at the lockers was because I knew it was Roy all along. Just like I couldn't see Gideon's bar as a dumpster in the first place since I never imagined it being a dumpster. I always saw it as the extravagant place it is. And I didn't see Roy back in my room because I wanted to believe it was Hunter.

All these years I chose to see the world I was taught to see—not the one I could actually choose to see.

"Because he's not you," I said. "He's not even close to being you."

I felt myself inching closer. He leaned down to meet me halfway, but the loud growling that came from my stomach made us both stop before our lips grazed each other. Hunter let out a soft laugh, raising his eyebrows. "Are you hungry?"

"I might have skipped dinner," I admitter, feeling my stomach roaring to life all of a sudden.

"That's unacceptable." He took my hand on his and started marching to the kitchen. "Come on. I have the perfect solution."

ﺵ

I toyed with the Barbie-sized plastic fork before putting the cheese cube into my mouth, letting its rich flavor melt down my throat. "I have to admit. I didn't take you as the Master Chef kind of guy, either."

Hunter's head was far down a cabinet—he was tossing and turning pans in search for the proper one—when he straightened up, his eyebrow creased. "Mind you, I'm an outstanding chef. I've learned a few tricks from Logan." He leaned back into the pan and pots cupboard and muttered "Bingo" once he took a skillet out. "Plus, I heard girls like guys who can cook."

I put the back of my hand to my forehead and heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Is this the part where I swoon at your genuine talents, Mr. Black?" He rolled his eyes, turning around to put the skillet pan on the stove.

"Chef Black," Hunter corrected. He then headed for the fridge, and I could feel him smiling behind the door.

"Fine, I'll give it to you. Your abilities to open a package of cheese cubes and hand it to me as an appetizer are—what did you say? Outstanding?"

He closed the fridge with a bag of tortillas, more cheese, and a couple of other things on paper wrappings and plastic containers in hand. "Hey—I put it on a plate and gave you nice, tiny forks, okay? I thought you could appreciate the gesture of making a fancy dinner out of Logan's miserable attempts at doing the groceries the right way."

"Don't worry. Your gesture is kindly accepted," I said, munching on another one of the yellow-y white cubes.

He gave a soft laugh and placed the things on the isle. "Do you like burritos?"

"I love burritos."

"That's perfect then," said Hunter, clapping his hand together. "Cheese time is over. Get over here." I raised my eyebrows at him. "What? You didn't think I'd be doing this alone, did you?"

I plopped down from the chair with a sigh. "Fine, but I won't pay for the damages when your whole kitchen bursts into flames."

"You know I can just make the fire stop, don't you?" He gave me a cheeky glance before putting the tortillas in front of me. "Now pick your tortilla."

I opened the package carefully and reached in to get one of them, realizing Hunter had pressed his lips into a line.

"The first one you see? Really?"

I grunted. "I'm sorry I forgot to attend my tortilla selection classes. My mistake."

"Do you know how to handle a pan and a stove?" he asked, his right dimple flashing at me.

"Of course I can," I said, my voice raising an octave in the process. Okay, I may have not been able to do eccentric dishes, but I wasn't completely useless. I'd even managed to cook mac and cheese for Jared three weeks ago without much trouble.

Hunter made a noncommittal sound and went back to the plastic containers. I walked over to the stove and almost mechanically turned the dial on. The light scent of gas seeped out of the burners, which was my cue to push and turn one of the four knobs all the way counterclockwise. There were several clicks before the burner right in front of me lit up with weaving flames.

I took a moment to pride myself, but a strange feeling settled in the pit of my stomach as I stared into the burning stove. Something was slightly too familiar about the grasping heat coming out of it. The silvery white bottoms of the flames appeared to be glowing into their fading blue tips, looking as blinding as the spears of light that crackled out of the Reaver Blade when I used it.

And then I felt it again. The pulsing ache started at the tip of my fingers and small bolts of energy ran up my arms, spiking the hairs on them. In the far corner of my mind, I could see the blade gleaming, vibrating on its own. Like it not only wanted me to have it but use it again.

My thoughts were jumbled, my eyes dry and itchy, and I couldn't understand what was happening. Every explanation that my brain tried to shape got chased away by the pressing desire to have the same, warm energy moving inside of me again, for it to make me feel...alive.

"You okay?" Hunter's hand on my shoulder yanked my mind out of the haze. His eyes were locked on mine with confusion. "You spaced out for a second."

"I was just thinking..." I admitted. "What happened to those Shifters back at the subway?"

His brows furrowed. "What do you mean? They went into the Veil—of course."

"Have you even been there?" I asked, and a flash of surprise ran through his face. "Have you ever seen what's inside?"

"Not really." Hunter put the skillet over the burner, the flames easing below it. "I guess we have sort of a premade vision of it in our heads because it's something everyone talks about. You can find rumors of it being the lake of fire described in the Bible—crazy theories, if you ask me; humans are not the only ones with a wild imagination—and there are other more accurate ones that simply say it's this reality's parallel universe. A place that looks exactly the same but with different people and no boundaries for magic."

"It sounds like the Heaven all of them are asking for," I said. "If they wanted a place with no humans so bad, why not just go there? I know that...evil things are in there, but we have pretty evil people here too. Talk about Hitler or Kim Jong-Un for once."

"I think immediate death thanks to an explosion is way better than what one of the things inside of the Veil can do to you." He reached for the cooking spray with a sigh. "I'm not saying that the evil you've seen in this reality—the human kind of evil—is justifiable. Because it isn't. It's messed up and wrong in every way possible, but what hides behind that wall is a guaranteed painful, agonizing death. And not the one you think you see when countries are at war...not even close."

A shiver crawled its way up my spine. "I thought you said all Forgotten are half-human. How come you're describing the ones in there as Satan's pets instead?"

"Logan told you the story of how we met, didn't he?" he asked. I nodded. "Did he mention the weird beast-like creature that attacked him?"

"He called them Reapers, I think. Shapeshifters that got stuck in their morphed state."

"It's more than that," said Hunter. "They got stuck there in the first place because they abused their powers. We are half-human when we're born—most of us, at least—but the more you use your powers, the more you let them consume that humanity out of you." Realization appeared to wash over his face in that moment. "And that would also help explain your case. You've never used them, so of course you wouldn't come across as a shining beacon in the night."

"I certainly feel like one inside," I said, throwing my head back with a sigh. "Ever since I used that blade, I feel this weird magnetic pull toward it. Like it's taking to me and—Jesus Christ, I sound insane."

"You're not insane," Hunter chided. "Your body and mind are not used to the powers you have, which is why at first it's gonna feel like you're not the one in control, but I'm sure Gideon can help with that. And I'm always here. We can figure something out with the Reaver Blade if you don't feel comfortable having it."

His gaze was fixed on mine when I looked back at him, and it shifted at my words. "I don't think I have to worry about that.... Roy took it."

"Come again?"

"It was all part of his plan," I said, the words tasting sour in the back of my throat. "He needed it to be charged for the ritual, and we handed him right what he wanted."

Hunter went silent for a moment and took his time to coat the pan with a light sheen of cooking spray. When he spoke, his voice edged clear frustration—one he was evidently trying to hide. "I didn't think he had changed so much in such little time. It's like he became this wicked mastermind overnight."

"You'd be surprised at how fast people can change." I walked up to the isle where Hunter had left the neatly-wrapped burritos. I took them on each hand and stepped back to the stove. "But it still felt like he was missing something, you know."

"What makes you say that?" he asked, taking the burritos off my hands and letting them rest on the sizzling skillet.

"When he was talking to me about his plan he sounded confident, but I still got this feeling like he was missing something to complete the ritual. Something he has to get before this Sunday."

His stance changed again—no longer relaxed but wary. "He told you when and where he was doing this?"

"The abandoned church downtown," I said, replaying Roy's exact words. "St. Boniface. Right before midnight."

Hunter looked far from pleased, his fingers curling into his palm. "If he told you when and where he's doing this, it means he'd confident enough that you will do as he asked."

"You think he's going to force me?" I swallowed loudly. It's not like I hadn't theorized that on my own. He could easily use Emilia, my father, my mother, and Jared as bargain. And I wouldn't think twice to do whatever it took to save them. Cliché move, though it was the only one that would guarantee cooperation. Unwilling cooperation, but cooperation nevertheless.

"I think he's capable of doing whatever it takes to get what he wants. Which is why tomorrow we'll ask Gideon to check his books for anything that can let us know the things the ritual needs. We can't let him get them all—and if he has already, there's still no way on Earth I'm letting him get you."

I crossed my arms over my chest, tugging the jacket closer to me. The nights were starting to get colder as winter swept in. "Maybe I underestimated you, too."

He looked surprised. "How come?"

"You always came across as this guy who could withstand any situation presented to him, who could face this world without thinking twice about it," I said. "But I guess I never really understood what made you so resilient. The way you talk about doing what's right, even if it goes against all of nature's laws, and your force of will, Hunter—I wish I had those things. I wish I could be brave enough to risk everything for—"

"People like you," he let out quietly, wiping his hands on the dishcloth before stepping closer to me. The edges of his eyes looked tired, his hands reaching into the pockets of my jacket so that our fingers were touching. "That's what made me resilient: people like you. Good people."

My lungs felt tight, and I wasn't sure if it was due to the cold or the effect of his words in me. Either way, I didn't care.

"The Forgotten," he continued, "as ironic as it may seem, tend to forget that part of them is as human as those whom they want to kill. And I didn't want that. I didn't want to forget and lose that small fraction inside of me that makes me believe I'm not completely broken."

Roy had been wrong. This wasn't what damaged looked like. "What will happen if the Infernal Council gets to you?"

"They'll blame me of treason and dishonor, shred my powers to pieces before ripping them out of me, and if they don't turn me into dust, they'll vanish me somewhere dark to rot the rest of my life." He shrugged. "I've never minded the idea of solitary confinement, though. I'll push through."

For a split second I wondered if I looked as horrified as I felt. "Please don't say anything like that ever again."

"I thought you wanted to get to know me," he joked.

I understood that he wanted to cope with the situation using humor, but the fact that he could actually be tortured and killed sent goosebumps through my body. I clasped my hands to his and jerked him forward. "You're not going to die."

"I appreciate the concern." His lips hovered over mine one second too long. "I should probably make sure our dinner doesn't burn."

"Screw dinner."

I pressed my lips to his before I got to see his reaction. Hunter tried going in gently at first, but it didn't take long for his arms to move on their own around my waist. After a few delicate touches of his mouth my hands started to do his bidding. They went down his back, trailing the line of his muscles before I thrusted them into his hair once his tongue brushed mine.

He pushed me up and I anchored my legs around him. His lips were taunting mine, waiting a couple of seconds in between the kisses. "Looks like I'm getting to know you, too."

"How do you like it?"

A smirk took over his mouth. He looked back at the stove, the knob turning to the lowest set of heat as if a ghost was tampering with it, and I noticed his eyes were burning the same bright blue they did each time he used his powers. "Oh I like it very much."

Hunter's lips made their way back to mine before he gradually lowered them to the side of my neck. My head was sent reeling with the intoxicating feeling, all previous thoughts stopped in their tracks. Bits and splits of memories of what happened back in my room with Roy threatened to throw my anxiety overboard, but I pushed them as far as I could into the darkest corner of my mind.

I wouldn't let him ruin this moment.

Hunter's body shifted even closer to me, fitting perfectly between my legs as I sat on the countertop. The kisses moved from my neck to my collar bone, threatening to go even lower. The cabinets on the wall dug into my back when he leaned forward, and I found my hands reaching for the hem of his shirt. Somehow I was halfway to taking it off, my fingertips already grazing his bare skin underneath, when the sound of someone clearing his throat caused both of us to stop dead on our tracks.

Hunter turned around, disorientated. I took the opportunity to hop down from the countertop, pulling the strap of my bra back in place. At some point he'd taken my jacket off and pushed it all the way down.

"I really hope I'm not interrupting," said Logan. He leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed over his chest. "It looked like you guys were having a very productive chat over there."

"Thought you were on a date," Hunter said, taming his hair. He put his shirt back in place, but I was able to catch a short glimpse of what looked like a tattoo on the lower part of his back. It looked oddly familiar for some reason. "How did that go?"

"Sadly not as good as yours, I can tell you that." My cheeks flared, and his brown eyes shifted to me. "Olivia, dear, it's nice to see you again."

"Hey, Logan," I said, surprised at how hoarse my voice came out. I cleared my throat, which triggered a throaty laugh out of him.

"God, I miss being a teenager." He straightened up and made his way to the stove, where the burritos were looking a bit too brown now. "Huh, you have learned a thing or two."

Hunter scratched the back of his head. He sounded flustered. "So what happened to your date? Because as far as I'm concerned, dates don't end at ten pm."

Logan shrugged, removing the skillet from the burner and turning it off. The smell of the hot burritos made its way to my nose, and my stomach complained again. "If you want the summarized version, she was an Aries and I'm a Taurus. It was bound to end tragically."

The familiar feeling of a string of words creeping into my mind filled my head, and I heard Hunter's voice bouncing in the back of my ears.

He's also into horoscopes. Wonderful guy—he's filled with surprises, I tell you.

"And her husband happened to call her halfway through our first bottle of wine."

I wasn't able to hold the snort that escaped me, but I quickly remembered Logan couldn't actually hear what Hunter said. I pressed my palm to my mouth, wishing Earth would open a hole for me to jump in and never come back out.

Logan's eyebrows rose. I was ready to run out of the kitchen when he let out another laugh. "Looks like you do have a sense of humor," he said. "It's all right. I felt pretty ridiculous myself when I heard her telling Hank the Husband that she was simply out getting flea and tick drops for their dog."

"Damn, Logan," said Hunter. "I'm sorry."

Logan shook his head, playing with his car keys in one hand. "Don't be. I'm glad you're having fun. You kids deserve it." He started walking back to the door, risking another glance back at us. "Just maybe dial it down a notch down there. I think I saw a bit too much."

Hunter choked on a breath. I noticed he reached a hand to cover his pants, and my eyes widened. Logan's stare moved back to me, a gentle smile on his lips. "And you should eat something and go home. It's getting late and you both have school tomorrow."

"Yes, sir," I mumbled.

"Very well, good night then." He didn't wait for any replies and made his way up the stairs. Hunter and I were submerged in absolute silence until we heard a door clicking closed upstairs and Hunter let out a nervous chuckle.

"Well, that was an interesting turn of events."

I buried my face into my palms, feeling the shame and adrenaline merging into a dull headache. "You think?"

All right. Lesson learned. No more making out in kitchens.