It hadn’t been embarrassment that kept Gwen quiet. Her mother had firmly stated that she’d lie and cover for the bastard if Gwen told her teachers. The main reason Gwen had kept her mouth shut was that she’d known her stepfather would take it out on her mother. She’d kept quiet to protect Hanna, but it hadn’t felt like she was protecting her. It had felt like she was ignoring Hanna’s pain and need for help . . . just like the neighbors who never called the police, no matter how loud the yelling or screaming got. Not that Hanna was entirely innocent. No, she was just as volatile and mercurial as the bastard, but she never raised a hand to anyone.
“Like I said, none of it matters now.”
“Of course it does,” Julie insisted. “Witnessing domestic violence is a type of abuse all on its own. Watching our moms be hurt and terrorized was something that hurt and terrorized us. It’s a frightening and distressing experience, and it impacts every part of a person’s—”
“That’s your therapist talking.”
Julie clasped her hand. “Speaking of Aidan, he wants to see you. He wants to help you through this. It’s going to be a trying time for you. A little support, a friendly ear, would be good for you.”
Gwen gritted her teeth. “I don’t want or need anything from him.”
She’d attended therapy years ago after Julie stated that she wouldn’t go unless Gwen did. Gwen had never liked it or the therapist. Never liked his probing gaze or his insistence that she “needed” his help to heal. It had creeped her out, but not nearly as much as when he admitted that he’d “developed feelings” for her. He’d seemed completely shocked that she didn’t feel the same way, and he hadn’t been at all happy that she told him to stay away from her.
Gwen had never told Julie because Aidan seemed to be truly helping her, and God knew that Julie needed that. “I’m glad you feel he helps you. Therapy is a good thing, I know that. But it’s not for everyone.”
Julie held up her hands. “Okay. I’m just the messenger.”
“Yeah, I know. You sounded exactly like him.” It almost made her shudder.
“He was very specific about what he wanted me to say.”
“Who?” asked Marlon as he entered the room.
“Aidan,” replied Julie.
Marlon’s mouth flattened. “Is that so?”
Julie tilted her head. “Why don’t you like him?”
Marlon sank onto the sofa opposite them. “I have my reasons.” One of which was that Gwen had told him about Aidan’s creepy and wildly unprofessional declaration of love. Her foster brother was the only person who knew.
Shrugging the matter off, Julie turned to Gwen. “Anyway, I came here because . . . It should be easy to do the right thing, but we all know it doesn’t always work that way, and I wanted you to know that I’m behind you on this.”
Gwen patted her hand. “Thanks, Jules.”
Julie went to speak, but then two large figures entered the room, their footsteps eerily silent. Julie tensed under Zander and Bracken’s scrutiny—she wasn’t comfortable around men, particularly ones so powerfully built.
Placing a reassuring hand on Julie’s arm, Gwen spoke, “Mr. Devlin—”
“Zander,” he reminded her, his gaze intense as it fixed on Gwen.
“Right. Zander. Do you need something?”
“Yeah.” But he didn’t elaborate.
“Can it wait? I’m sort of busy right now.” And Gwen would rather not talk to him if he would insist on revisiting their earlier topic of conversation.
Julie leaned into Gwen and asked quietly, “Is everything okay?”
“Yes,” Gwen assured her. “Julie, this is Zander and Bracken. They’re guests here. Zander, Bracken, this is my big sister, Julie.”
Julie forced a shaky smile. “It’s nice to meet you both.”
“Likewise,” said Bracken.
Zander just nodded before sliding his gaze back to Gwen, and that puzzled her. Julie was exceptionally beautiful, and guys ogled her all the time. Bracken’s eyes held a flicker of appreciation, but Zander didn’t seem at all affected. Maybe he was gay. Yep, that must be it. Ah, how disappointing for females everywhere.
Julie stood and straightened her sweater. “I should be going.”
Gwen grabbed her hand. “You can’t leave without seeing Yvonne.”
“She’s cleaning the rooms on the third floor,” said Marlon, rising. “I’ll come up with you.”
As her foster siblings headed up the stairs, Gwen arched a brow at Zander. “What can I help you with?”
His head tilted. “Actually, this conversation is more about how we can help you.”
She blinked, confused.
Bracken stuffed his hands in his pockets. “What breed of shifter is Andie?”
“She’s a cougar.”
“But not part of a pride?” asked Bracken.
“She was raised by humans. I don’t know how that came about, didn’t ask. I figured it was her business. People didn’t realize she was a shifter until she was a teenager. She was always quiet and kept to herself.” Maybe because she’d known she was different and thought people wouldn’t accept her once they found out, thought Gwen.
Zander moved closer. “When did she change her story?”
“About a week ago. She wants me to do the same thing, or to at least lie to the council.”
Zander’s eyes studied her face, as if she were a puzzle he was trying to solve. “But you’re going to tell the truth. Why?”
Gwen gave a nonchalant shrug. “Sometimes people need others to speak up for them.” She knew that better than most.
“We want to help,” said Bracken.
Recalling their mention of a shelter, she puffed out a breath. “I guess Andie might go with you. I’d have to ask.”
Bracken shook his head. “No, we want to help you. We’re also prepared to place her somewhere safe until this is over. She’ll be welcome to remain at the shelter indefinitely, if that’s what she wants.”
Gwen looked from one male to the other. “I don’t see how you can help me.” Or why they would, for that matter. “I’m not fighting shifters.”
“No,” said Zander, “you’re up against people who are anti-shifter. That’s bad. These people aren’t rational when it comes to us, and they often think they’re a law unto themselves. You might be human, but you’ve allied with a shifter in this matter—to those people you’re dealing with, you’re now just as bad as us.”
“I know that, but I also know that it’s not your problem. There’s no reason for you to make it yours. And, as I said, I don’t see how you could help me.”
“It’s unlikely that they’ll try to physically harm you if me and Bracken are here. They hate our kind, sure, but they also fear us. Typically, fear is at the root of their hatred.”
Gwen pursed her lips. “So . . . when you say you want to help me, you just mean you’ll stick around in the hope that your presence here will be a deterrence?”
“No,” began Bracken, “we mean that if anyone turns up here to give you shit, we’ll take care of it.”
Suspicious by nature, she searched for what their angle might be here, but she came up with nothing. “Why would you do that?”