Lycan's Prey by Jessica Hall

Chapter 39

“Max,” I finally murmur.

He squeezes my hand tighter, seeking reassurance from the one who should give it, but finds none. “I mindlinked my Dad. He is on his way,” he tells me, his innocence a stark contrast to the weight of my sorrow. His words pierce through the haze- his father, the king, coming to collect his son, he’ll be furious that I dragged Max here, pulled him into my drama.

My vision blurs, tears threatening to spill. Not here, not in front of Max. I blink them back fiercely, refusing to show

weakness.

“Let’s wait outside for him.” I tell Max.

The chill of the night air bites at my skin as I push through the hospital’s double doors. The parking lot is a desolate expanse under the harsh glow of street lamps. My gaze catches on the payphone by the curb. I settle Max on the bench and make my way over to the payphone.

I stumble toward it, my fingers fumbling with the cold coins from my jacket pocket. They clink into the slot, one by one. I punch in the numbers, digits engraved into memory yet haven’t been used since they cast me out.

“Hello?” Her voice, distant yet familiar, crackles through the line.

The receiver trembles in my grasp, a lifeline fraying with every heartbeat. Silence stretches between us, the unsaid filling the

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Chapter 39

until it’s

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the words. Can’t stitch together the syllables to tell her that Granny, the woman who raised her, gave her life is dead. I slam the

second I longed for her voice, wanted my mother. I thought I did until I heard her voice, unperturbed, her day not yet ruined like mine is,

my spiraling thoughts. I

dances off his dark hair, giving him an otherworldly aura. His eyes search mine, heavy with

edging into my tone. I should be alone; I want to be alone. But the weight of his hand is grounding, real in a way that nothing else has felt since

alright, Bree?” he asks, the timbre of his

my grief.

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Chapter 39

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I gesture toward the boy. “Oh right, you’re here for Max,” I mutter, my voice weak realizing I have

the vastness of the sterile environment. The sight stings–I shouldn’t have brought him here. That was

you’re probably angry but I couldn’t leave him at the

steps forward, blocking my view with his imposing figure, and suddenly

gentle,