No Dogs Allowed

Stars of the Sky and Call it A Garden

C8H10N4O2

Caffeine (1,3,7-trimethylxanthine).

Methylxanthine stimulant. Bitter, white, crystalline purine. A eugeroic and most widely used psychoactive drug, can cause increased heart rate, breathing, nervousness, and severe insomnia.

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The next week progressed with as many bumps as you can imagine.

The first morning after commenced with a team meeting. We were gathered around the guys' living room once more, the morning light of the final day of June glowing down us through the wide open windows, perfectly baked and crisping at the edges. We sat scattered on the floor and armchairs and couch. Rosalie stood above us, Kenzo and Meredith on the floor, me on the armchair with Kane against the arm of the couch. He seemed, surprisingly, to be the most calm among Corvus, who were the ones in real chaos.

"You stabbed his hand with a beer bottle that you broke," Rosalie recounted. "Then escaped via their driver's car via Aster Kim who is, what, suddenly our brand new ally in the midst of this bullshit?"

I said, "I cut his hand. That's completely different."

Corvus stared at me. Zahir opened his mouth, closed it, then said, "I'm impressed?"

"Impressed," Diego acknowledged, "is not the exact word I'd choose."

"More like 'mortified'," Rosalie snapped. "Look at his face!"

"I like to think I've got a very socially-acceptably-average-looking face," I argued.

"Yeah, not with all that bashing in its got," she retorted. "When we said 'find Kane', did you hear 'fight a crazy, 190 pound Alpha with your bare hands and broken glass'?"

I scoffed. "Those don't even sound alike."

Diego said, "You're not helping anyone fighting."

"What was I supposed to do?"

"You should've called us."

"Why are we always the ones walking away?"

Corvus didn't reply. They gave me a strange look, like that was not one of the replies they expected, and upon hearing it, were less angry and more confused. Rosalie pursed her lips.

"Corvus's safety comes before anything," she said carefully.

"Well, we're alive, aren't we?" I muttered.

"Echo."

"Look at Kane's throat," I said. "Look at Kane's throat and tell me any of you would do anything different."

No one spoke to that for a moment. I thought of Luan's fangs, his bloodied claws. The very memory made my blood re-boil all over again. I took a breath.

Kane said, "It doesn't matter."

We all looked to him. He had his head tilted to the side, eyes closed, sleep still clinging to his eyelids. A new streak of silver had appeared in one of his bangs, shiny like freshly polished marble. He moved it from his face as he spoke.