Page 43 of Bad Moon Rising

“Brooks? Please, I need you…please…”

She deserves to go to college, to have a normal life. She never, ever has to know what happened to Orion, or that monsters are real, or that the three hopeless boys who lived next door to her are all completely crazy about her.

So even though it feels like I’m carving a piece of myself out of my chest. I turn away from her, wind up the window, and tear off down the road.

“Brooks!” She screams my name.

I don’t look back.

“Goodbye, Lily Dean,” I whisper, and I’m halfway back to the old mill before I realize that the wet patches on my jeans are from my own tears.

17

LILY

Brooks…left.

He left me without a backwards glance. There had been nothing in his face, no indicator he gave a single shit about me beyond the way someone should feel about their kid neighbor. There was no love in his eyes, no heat, no passion. Nothing but a fathomless void staring back at me as he put the car into reverse and backed out of the driveway.

Gone.

Just like that.

Taking the tiny shards that remained of my heart with him.

I collapse onto the ground in the grass, my orange skirt flaring out around me, the shimmery fabric stained with my parents’ blood. The color’s a startling contrast to the dark strands—a meteorite of color sailing through the endless black sky.

But that darkness…

It’s all I know now, all I’m aware of. It presses in on me from all sides, stabbing at my skin in a way that feels keener than any blade.

I tear the witch’s mark charm off my wrist and hurl it at the fence. It falls in the grass, the charm glittering in the pale moonlight, mocking me. Brooks promised he’d always protect me, and now…

I sob to the heavens, wondering if there’s anyone up there who can hear me. Answer me. Save me.

My parents are dead.

The Belluas left me when I needed them most.

No. No. No. No. No. No. No.

More and more tears cascade down my face as I scream into the abyss, the noise tearing through my suddenly dry lips. Pain like I never felt before barrages me from every direction.

This can’t be real. This can’t be. I’m dreaming, aren’t I? This is nothing but a horrible nightmare, and I’ll wake up at any moment to the sound of Mom laughing as Dad jokes with her about taking a ride on his wheelchair. And then I’ll peek out the window in the kitchen and stare at the Bellua’s house, finding them in the backyard play fighting. Everything will be okay because things like this don’t happen in real life.

Friends don’t turn into werewolves. Parents aren’t brutally murdered. Killers don’t disappear in a cloud of magical dust.

No. No. No. No. No. No.

No!

Something dark and insidious comes to life in my chest. It slithers down to my belly and coils there, ready to pounce.

Because I know that this is real life. My parents are dead, the Bellua brothers left me, and my entire world has been irrevocably altered.

I angrily scrub at the tears smearing my makeup as I make a mental checklist of things to do. I want to fall apart completely, but I know I can’t. Not yet.

First, I need to call the police.