Destined

Chapter Eight

Panicked car rides are starting to feel common for us as we make our way to the main road. Enzo didn't mention where we were going but a part of me is hoping it's back to the packhouse. I want to see Lexie and Matteo again. I think the sight of them would calm my mind, which has not stopped racing since this morning before talking with Enzo.

We sit silently. Enzo focuses on the road while I let my eyes track the trees that pass. A dull headache pounds in the back of my head. It only momentarily subsided when I showered. A hot shower always eases the pain when I have headaches like these. We reach the intersection that could lead us back to the pack house, but instead of turning right, Enzo takes a left heading towards the city.

"Where are we going?" I collect the energy to ask, still exhausted from the night's events.

"To an old friend's." He doesn't elaborate further. I check a mental list in my head of all of the friend's Enzo has ever mentioned and all I can think of is my old soccer coach from elementary school. He is even a stretch to call a friend. They just happened to talk after practices and nothing more. The only time he has ever gone out to do anything was the few works trips he had when our neighbor Ms. Laura would watch me. Those nights were insufferable. She had the squeakiest voice and made me go to bed before the sun had set.

"What friend?" I don't expect him to answer.

"I've known him for a while" he pauses for a moment before continuing "We were roommates in college. We've kept in touch."

I don't have the energy to respond so I nod, humming my acknowledgement. Enzo has never talked much about his past. I know he went to college when I was a baby and studied english and mythology. Besides his studies, he never mentioned much else but its good to know he has kept up with at least one friend.

Enzo speaks up from the driver seat, "This isn't my first choice, but it will be safe. We can lay low there for a few days while I figure things out."

"He isn't another werewolf is he?" I joke, hoping he can hear the tease in my tone.

At that, Enzo gives a genuine smile and softly chuckles, "No. He is definitely not a werewolf."

It's nice to hear his laugh. The moment almost feels normal. Joking together in the car feels like us. We haven't felt like ourselves since the camping trip. Enzo has been so strung up the last few days I can see the knots twisting in his shoulders.

"Why do you think those wolves showed up to the house?" I turn to him as I ask. The street lights illuminate his face as they pass highlighting the serious and cold stare that has returned to his face. All traces of our laughter moments ago have disappeared.

"I have my suspicions" Yet again, he answers vaguely.

"And those are?" It comes out snippier than I meant so I tack on to my sentence, "something to do with me being a glowstick, I hope." He doesn't laugh, simply glances to my left arm which glowed just hours earlier.

"Yes." The fact that he even acknowledged my question surprises me but all I do is nod to myself, fear rising again in my heart. People don't glow and people don't go unharmed when giant wolves bite them. Chill bumps cover my skin as the thoughts take over.

"Nothing is wrong with you, Les. Don't overthink." He has always been able to read my mind like that. I've always been blessed with the tendency to overthink and he is always there to bring me back down to earth and not let my thoughts overwhelm my senses.

We've entered a neighborhood now and before long, Enzo is pulling into a duplex in the nicest part of the city. It's landscaped beautifully with flowers and elaborate greenery surrounding the yard.