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instead, he found that the “real” Hope was so much more fascinating than his imagined one. Throwing pies at him. Losing her temper. Hammering questions at him that afternoon with an intensity that would have put even the most seasoned investigator to shame. Facing him barefoot in the moonlight, with the wind whipping through her long hair, unwilling to back down or to let him intimidate her. She was fire and heat and passion, and he just wanted to pull her around him like something warm and soft, until she could melt the cold burn of fear sitting in his gut like a leaden weight. Fear of the darkness inside him. Of the danger closing in around them. Of what he was becoming…changing into.
    Despite knowing that the Merrick were the good guys in a fight against one of the most deadly evils the world had ever known, Riley couldn’t let go of the bitterness he’d felt for so long. He couldn’t embrace the family legacy breathing down his neck like Saige had always done, largely because of what it had cost him. His mother, Elaina, obsessed to the point of mental instability. His brother, Ian, who had finally left home to get away from her. His sister, simply because he hadn’t been able to deal with Saige’s own ardent devotion to the search for answers about their family bloodline. And then Hope, who had been the crushing blow, nearly doing him in, so violent he was still reeling from its force thirteen years later.
    He’d been too shocked for most of the day to really process it—this colossal screwup of fate. But now it was sinking in, soaking into him, and with it came a sharp, piercing rage.
    He wanted to know what kind of jackass was looking down on him, pulling the strings, as if some cosmic prankster had taken over the heavens, tossing the dice with his life. And with Hope’s.
    He’d been putting it off all evening, knowing he needed to have this talk with her, but dreading it all the same. Just being near her threatened his ability to keep himself together. Another chink in his emotional armor. A constant struggle that he knew, instinctively, was going to grow worse with each passing day.
    He’d tried to think, to put together a plan, while heand Kellan had spent the afternoon getting the layout of the town. There was no doubt that the Casus wouldn’t be far behind them, if they weren’t already there. The best plan was to stay at the cabin, and find the damn Marker as quickly as possible. Then get the hell out of Purity, taking his troubles with him. If he could keep his distance from Hope, then maybe she’d go under their radar. He’d warned her about the danger, but hadn’t gone into specifics. God willing, he’d be able to spare her the details. He didn’t want her looking over her shoulder for the rest of her life, living in fear. There was still promise for Hope. Happiness. That rose-colored dream. He didn’t want to shatter it with death and monsters and terror. Didn’t want her jumping at every sound she heard in the night.
    And yet he knew she wasn’t taking him as seriously as she needed to.
    It was both a blessing and a curse that she and Millie actually lived in a section of the house that was blocked off from the café. Having her so close would undoubtedly make watching out for her easier. But it also meant she was more accessible, which presented an entirely different sort of danger in itself. The thought made him want to turn around and haul his ass out of there, but concern for Hope, as well as guilt, kept his feet rooted in place. He couldn’t leave her alone with the Marker buried there on her land. And he couldn’t go back to Colorado and dump all this on his family. He still felt bad over the way he’d treated Saige when she’d tried towarn him at their mother’s funeral that she feared the awakenings were coming. About the way he’d kept quiet when Ian’s world had started going to shit, stupidly trying to convince himself that his worst nightmare wasn’t coming to