The kid made a funny face. “Duh. He’s the Dockside Boss.”
“What does that mean?”
The kid looked around the room, clearly uncomfortable, as if he were dealing with a crazy woman—which was a distinct possibility at that point. Barista boy scratched his head. “Uh, it means that he’s the alpha. Leader of the local pack.”
The sinking feeling in my gut felt like the Titanic had sprung a leak. “He’s the leader of the local pack of…?”
The kid shot me a bewildered look. “Shifters? Werewolves? Wow, you’re really not from around here, are you?”
I had to ask, though I knew the answer already. “And that makes Jaxson Laurent a…”
“Werewolf. He’s, like, the king of the Chicago werewolves.”
That asshole.
My fists clenched as my vision blurred. He’d been playing me the whole time.
Forgetting my coffee, I stormed out the front door but stopped dead in my tracks. A sandy-haired man was watching me from beneath the shade of a trolley stop across the street. He looked down at his phone as soon as I met his eyes, but I recognized that face. I’d seen him chatting with Jaxson last night.
Was he a werewolf? Were there others following me?
Panic dumped into my veins.
There are werewolves everywhere.
I had no idea who was friend or foe. In fact, I didn’t really know which of the two Jaxson was, either. It was time for a new plan.
I flagged a passing cab and hopped in. The sandy-haired man looked up and started heading in my direction, and my chest constricted as my heartrate skyrocketed.
“7546 Wildhaven Avenue,” I told the driver. “And would you please lock the doors?”
The man on the street slowed and raised his phone to his ear as the cab pulled away.
A minute later, my phone vibrated with a number I didn’t recognize. I had a sneaking suspicion it was Jaxson freaking Laurent, and I didn’t answer.
I had no idea what was going on, but I knew one thing. My parents had left a note that if anyone ever came for me, if I was ever in trouble, that I should go to my Aunt Laurel. No asterisk with a note that she might turn me to stone. Just the instruction to go.
And that’s what I was going to do.
Ten minutes later, the driver pulled onto a tree-lined street and stopped in front of 7546 Wildhaven Avenue. It was a big red brick house with a wide porch, green trim, and white scalloped siding on the second floor. It looked like it had been built over a century ago and bordered on being a mansion. Sure, the house seemed a little shabby in places, but it was fancier than most of the closely packed apartments that I’d seen so far. It even had a yard.
Laying eyes on the place set my nerves on end. I had no idea who my family really was. Jaxson had said they were dangerous, but then he was also playing games with information. Withholding. Manipulating.
I recalled the words of the woman in my dreams: You need to learn who you truly are so that you can stop the ones who are coming.
I wasn’t about to start believing in dreams, but with everything I’d seen, I wasn’t going to not believe in them either. Whether she was just some manifestation of my subconscious, or the face of fate, she was right that I needed to figure out who I was and how I fit into this world. The LaSalles’ seemed like the place to start looking for answers.
Maybe they were into bad business, but my aunt might know why I was being targeted. Jaxson certainly didn’t—at least not answers he was going to share.
I paid the driver. “Can you stay for a few minutes? I’m not sure if anyone is home.”
“Uh…” The cabbie looked around nervously, and then started counting the cash in his hand.
I gave him another ten.
“Sure. I can stay a second.”