The Legend of the Eight: The Hunted (Book 5)

16: Who Will We Be When We Leave This Place?

SIXTEEN: WHO WILL WE BE WHEN WE LEAVE THIS PLACE? 
FEBRUARY 25
PHOEBE DOMINGO

THEY'D BEEN AT THE OLD boarding house for three days and Drew had been avoiding her for every single one of those. Any room she entered, he left. If she spoke, he pretended not to hear her. And worst of all, he wouldn't even look at her. He looked right through her.

She'd never seen him so angry with anyone—much less her. Even when he fought with Leo last fall or punched Steve Distefano sophomore year. But this angry wasn't directed at an ex-boyfriend or the kid who spilled Witch's Brew down his sweatshirt. It was directed at her. His wife. The girl he loved most in the world. And it stung worse than any jinx, any hex, any curse.

The full moon was coming on Saturday night and if there was any good news to be had, it was that Drew wouldn't be turning when it did. Preventing his father's death also prevented him from witnessing death, meaning in this reality, his werewolf curse was dormant. The aggression and angst that came with it, however, was not and as nights like Saturday grew closer, that side of him became stronger.

Sometime that afternoon, Liam suggested Drew go outside for a run to blow off some steam and when Drew left to do so, he nearly shattered the kitchen door closing it.

Wil sat at the counter, sipping a glass of red wine through a straw, and made a face at Drew's powerful exit.

"Yikes. Moon turns him into a real nasty one, huh? Bet you really regret pissing him off right about now, don't you?"

"Any particular reason you're using our time in Purgatory as an endless happy hour?" Phoebe fired back and Wil giggled, amused.

"Is your lovers' quarrel a sore subject?" she grinned against the glass as she took another sip.

Phoebe should have known that no matter how close she and Wil grew as roommates and friends, it paled in comparison to Wil's bond with Drew. She was an idiot to think for a second that Drew didn't already confide in her about the fight and even more of an idiot to think Wil wouldn't take Drew's side.

She huffed and folded her arms across her chest, looking out the kitchen window in hopes of catching a glimpse of Drew running around the property.

"I don't know what he told you—" She started to say, turning back to Wil.

"Nothing," Wil stopped her. "He didn't tell me anything. Which means whatever happened must have been really bad if he won't even tell me about it."

"It's..." But Phoebe didn't know what to say.

It's personal? It's a family matter? Both were things Wil would understand better than anyone. So why was it so hard to tell her the truth?

"Look," Wil said when Phoebe didn't say any more. "Whatever it is, you don't owe me an explanation. But if you love him, you'll talk to him and you'll fix it."

"Why do you assume I did something?"

"Because Drew's pissed and you're sulking," she answered like it should have been obvious. "I may be dumb but I'm not an idiot."

"It's..." And she huffed again. "It's my dad. I found him. He's a Shadow Hunter."

"I heard," Wil nodded only to follow with, "Damon told me. So, what? Briggs doesn't like him?"

"I didn't tell Drew," Phoebe confessed. "At least, not right away. And when he found out I was keeping it from him, we got into a fight."

"Ah..." Wil sipped more of her wine. "That explains it. He hates secrets—which is pretty ironic considering between the werewolf thing and the Eight thing, he's keeping a few of his own."