CHAPTER 19: KEEP A SECRET

Mira’s POV

The sterile, antiseptic smell of the hospital hallway was making me nauseous. Or maybe that was just the leftover adrenaline and the sheer, mind-bending impossibility of the last hour. I couldn’t sit still. My heels clicked a frantic, uneven rhythm on the floor as I paced, my arms wrapped tightly around myself.

Eleanor was in there. My Eleanor. Who had just... who had just done that. And I hope she is ok.

Along the hallway, Roxy sat slouched in one of those awful plastic chairs, looking more annoyed than anyone who just walked away from a car explosion had any right to. She watched me pace for another minute before groaning.

"Would you quit it? You’re making me dizzy."

I stopped mid-stride, shooting her a glare that could curdle milk. But she had a point. My frantic energy wasn’t helping anyone. I forced myself to slump into the chair next to her, my body thrumming with restless anxiety.

"What’s got your leash in a twist, anyway?" Roxy asked, tilting her head.

I stared straight ahead at the closed door to Eleanor’s room. "You know exactly what I’m worried about."

A slow, knowing smirk spread across Roxy’s face. "Ah. It’s the whole... thing. The big, glowy, life-saving thing that popped out of your quiet little friend back there."

I finally turned to look at her, my expression deadpan. "Gee, Roxy. However did you figure that out? It must be your incredible powers of deduction."

She rolled her eyes so hard I was surprised they didn’t get stuck. She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. "So let me get this straight. You two are supposedly best friends, joined at the hip, and you had no idea your girl was a werewolf? How does that happen?"

"You of all people should know why we keep this a secret," I shot back, my voice a low, frustrated hiss. "It’s not exactly something you drop into casual conversation. ’Hey, love your shoes, also I turn into a wolf under the full moon’." I dragged a hand down my face, the reality of it all making my head spin. "No. I had no idea. Not a single clue. Ever since the day I met her."

I leaned in closer, the plastic chair creaking under my weight. "And here’s the real kicker... I don’t think she knows either."

"I just... I don’t know what to do," I whispered, the words feeling like a surrender. The strategic part of my brain, the part that always had a plan, was completely short-circuited.

Roxy looked at me like I’d grown a second head. "What do you mean, what do you do? You tell her. ’Hey, Elle, great news. You’re not gonna believe this, but you’re a werewolf.’ Simple."

My head snapped toward her. "Are you insane? We can’t just tell her!" I kept my voice low, but the force behind it was a furious hiss. "That would completely alter the entire course of her life! She thinks she’s human, Roxy. She’s been human her entire life. She worries about her taxes and her neighbor’s loud music and whether her outfit is cute enough. You can’t just drop a bomb like that on someone!"

"Oh, and what’s your brilliant plan, then?" Roxy shot back, her own voice dropping to a confrontational whisper. "Wait until she does it again? Maybe in the middle of a crowded street? Or in her apartment building? What happens when she accidentally throws a guy through a wall because he startles her, and a dozen humans see it?"

She leaned in, her eyes intense. "She’ll be confused, scared, wondering what’s wrong with her. And while she’s wondering, the authorities will show up. They won’t wonder. They’ll know. And they’ll take her. They’ll take her to some black-site lab so deep underground the sun will forget her name, and they’ll use her for the rest of her very, very long life. Is that what you want?"

A cold dread, colder than any I’d felt during the crash, seeped into my bones. She was right. I hated that she was right. My mind raced through the history I’d been forced to learn, the grim reality of our world.

It wasn’t always like this. A century ago, humans knew. They lived alongside us in an uneasy, but real, harmony. But then the pride of the old packs got the better of them. They wanted dominion, not coexistence. The war that followed was brutal. It only ended because of her—the one they call Aria, a hybrid of such terrifying power and she ended the war.

But the damage was done. Humans now see anything supernatural as a threat waiting to happen. An enemy in hiding. And the law is clear: reveal yourself, and you disappear.

I looked at the door to Eleanor’s room, my best friend lying helpless on the other side. My protectiveness, my loyalty, it all crystallized into a single, solid purpose.

"No," I said, my voice firm now, the fear shoved down and replaced by resolve. "That is not going to happen to her." I stood up, squaring my shoulders. "I’ll be with her. I’ll make sure of it."

"Suit yourself," Roxy said with a dismissive shrug, slouching back into her chair. A heavy, uncomfortable silence fell between us, thick with everything we couldn’t say.

It was broken by the soft swish of the hospital room door opening. A doctor in a white coat stepped out and approached us. I was on my feet instantly.

The doctor said she was ok and that we can go and see her.

When the doctor’s eyes flicked over the both of us, taking in our disheveled state, Roxy’s racing gear, my ripped jeans and dusty shirt, roxy’s look made him not to ask anything. He gave us one last lingering look before turning and walking down the hall.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Roxy stood up and stretched. "Alright. My good deed for the decade is done. I’m out."

She started walking toward the exit. My blood ran cold.

"Where are you going?" I demanded, stepping after her.

She didn’t stop or turn around. "Home. To shower. To forget this entire night happened. Take your pick."

I caught up to her, grabbing her arm. "You can’t just leave."

She finally stopped and turned to face me, her expression one of pure annoyance. "Why not?"

"Because I can’t do this alone!" The words were out before I could stop them, raw and honest and terrifying.

Roxy barked out a laugh. "Not my problem."

"It is

your problem!" I insisted, my mind scrambling for any leverage. "You’re a werewolf too. That makes it your business!" I knew it was weak, illogical, but I was desperate.

She looked utterly unimpressed. "That’s the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever heard. My existence doesn’t make me part of your pack. Now move."

I planted myself firmly in her path. "Why are you acting like this? We need your help."

"I told you," she said, her voice dropped. "I’m not getting involved with you two. This is a mess. And I’m definitely not signing up to be some racing monkey for Vexxon. Consider our deal void."

Annoyance flared into outright anger. "You agreed," I seethed. "You gave your word."

A slow, cynical smile spread across her face. "Sweetheart, have you met me? I’m a deeply dishonest person. I go back on my word all the time. It’s one of my best qualities."

She shouldered past me. She was going to walk away. She was going to leave me to handle this impossible, terrifying situation alone.

"Stop acting like such a bitch for five seconds!" I snapped, my voice echoing in the sterile hallway.

Roxy froze, her back still to me. I saw her shoulders tense.

"You can play the tough, lone wolf all you want," I continued, the words pouring out, sharp and unfiltered. "But I bet there’s another reason you don’t want to get involved. It’s your past, isn’t it? Something you’re running from."

That got her. She turned around slowly, her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. But I saw the flicker of something raw behind the anger. A wound I’d accidentally poked.

"We all have a past we’re running from," I said, my voice dropping, my hand instinctively going to the pendant hidden under my shirt. A familiar, cold dread started to creep up my spine—the ghost of my own trauma.

I shoved it down. "I came to this city to start over. And I found Eleanor. She is the second most genuinely kind and thoughtful person I have ever met in my life." My voice cracked. "I can’t watch over her alone. I need help. I need... extra hands. Strong hands."

The memory hit me then, unbidden and vicious. The last time i felt helpless. That i wasn’t strong enough and fast enough. The image of a grave, six feet of earth separating me from my best friend. The guilt was a physical weight, crushing my lungs. "The last time I tried to protect someone on my own... I failed." The words were a ragged whisper. "Please."

Roxy’s hardened expression didn’t exactly soften, but the anger bled out of it. She looked... tired. She let out a long, exaggerated sigh, rolling her eyes skyward. "Ugh. Fine. Don’t go giving a whole speech about it. I’ll help." She pointed a finger at my face. "But it’s not for free. This is a business arrangement. You’re paying me for my time. A lot."

A wave of sheer relief washed over me. "Money is not a problem," I said quickly.

We walked the few steps back to Eleanor’s door, a new, uneasy truce hanging between us. Roxy paused, her hand on the handle. She didn’t look at me when she spoke. "You wanna talk about your dark place?"

"No," I answered immediately. "Do you want to talk about yours?"

"Not in a million fucking years," she replied without missing a beat.

A look passed between us. It was a look of mutual agreement to leave the graves of our pasts undisturbed.

As I stepped into that room, a profound and unshakable feeling settled over me. Our lives, mine and Roxy’s, had just irrevocably turned. And it was all because of the quiet, people-pleasing woman lying in that bed. Nothing was ever going to be the same again.