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He was relieved beyond telling that he hadn’t shifted in all the stress.
She was still safe from his terrible secret.
Narrowing his eyes at Scott, Allison’s father put a hand on her shoulder. Chris Argent was
the leader of the werewolf hunters, and he had shot Scott through the arm with a crossbow bolt the
very first night Scott had shifted. Derek had rescued Scott and told him about the hunters. It had
been a terrible shock when Scott had discovered that Mr. Argent was also Allison’s father. So far,
though, Mr. Argent hadn’t realized that Scott was the werewolf he had nearly caught just a few short
weeks before.
Now, in the parking lot, Allison took one last look at Scott, as if she were memorizing what
he looked like, and then father and daughter walked toward Allison’s car. Mr. Argent opened the
passenger side door and Allison got in. Obviously he was going to drive her car home, and Allison’s
mom would take their SUV back to their house. As Mr. Argent shut the car door, he turned and gave
Scott a last, long, hard, so-very-pissed-off stare. But it was only the look of a protective father angry
with a boy for encouraging his daughter to ditch school.
We’re so busted, Scott thought.
It was not the perfect ending he had imagined for the perfect birthday for Allison. It was just
that she’d looked so stricken when all those balloons from Lydia had floated out of her locker this
morning. Scott hadn’t even known it was her birthday. Turned out she hated celebrating her birthday
at school. Scott hadn’t known Allison was seventeen, a year older than the other kids in their class—
older than him—and didn’t want anyone to know. It was because of all the moving around. But
people in other towns had assumed all kinds of things—that she was dumb, that she’d had a baby.
He’d wanted to protect her from a day like that. So they’d taken off. And the day had been
magical. Once darkness had fallen, she’d said she never wanted it to end. And then she’d told him
that she wished she could spend the night with him
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