Page 12 of Lunar's Ruined Alpha

“What? Whoa—Mom!” he protests feebly as I practically drag himthrough the swinging door of the kitchen. I feel bad for being so forceful, but it’s imperative that I get him out of this place before Rowan goes apeshit. Noah doesn’t deserve to meet his father for the first time like this.

Josh glances up at us from his position at the grill, but he thinks nothing of it as I usher Noah down the hall toward the door that leads to the dumpster in the alleyway. It’s not typically how I leave work, but the front door wasn’t really an option.

“What are you doing? Where are we going?”

I squeeze Noah’s hand. “Home, of course!”

“Why are we walking so fast, though?”

“Because I just really want to go home! That’s all!”

I know he can probably see right through the false, chipper tone of my voice.

Sure enough, as I shove open the alleyway door and pull him around the dumpster and toward the parking lot tucked away at the back of The Diner, Noah lets out a huff of impatience.

“It’s because you need to shift, right?”

“Yep! That’s it! Get in the car, sweetheart.”

My hands fumble with the keys as I fling open the back door. It’s an effort not to shove Noah inside, but he’s fast enough on his own. I practically dive into the driver’s seat, but it takes me several tries to get the key in the ignition. I’m shaking like crazy, from panic, adrenaline, and my forcefully postponed shift.

There’s no sign of Rowan on our tail. Yet. There’s only so much that the Whiteroses will be able to do to slow him down—and I’m still surprised that they’d even bother in the first place—but at least they can buy us a few minutes. If I can at least get us home, then I can lock Noah inside, and then maybe I can talk Rowan into some kind of arrangement. I could play nice and ask him to come over tomorrow to meet Noah.

Then, when he’s gone, we’ll leave town and never look back. I’ve run away from him before. I can do it again. I just need to go further this time. Sure, I’ll miss Zahra, and Noah will have to start over at a new school, but he can make new friends easily enough. He’s introverted, but he’s a sweet kid. Naturally likable.

Just like Rowan, as much as it pains me to admit.

“Mom, what’s for dinner tonight?” Noah asks from the backseat as I drive way too fast down Main Street, then take a sharp left turn onto the narrow road that leads to our small house shrouded in the woods.

I take a deep breath to calm myself. I don’t know what kind of car Rowan drives, but there isn’t anyone following in the rearview mirror.

“What do you want for dinner?” I ask.

“Umm, pizza?”

“We had pizza two nights ago.”

“Can we not have it twice a week?”

“Well, it’s just not very nutritious.”

“I’ll eat broccoli on the side if that’ll make you happy.”

Despite my stress levels, I huff out a laugh. “There’s no need to lie, Noah.”

He giggles. “Okay, potatoes, then. That’s a vegetable.”

“That’s a starch.”

“What’s a starch? I thought that’s what you put in the laundry.”

“No, it’s—” I pause, glancing in the mirrors again. I curse loudly, then catch myself. “Sorry. Pardon my French.”

Noah twists in his seat to glance out the back window. There’s a black pickup truck catching up to us, and it’s not hard to identify Rowan behind the wheel.

“Whoa,” Noah murmurs. “That dude is driving fast.”

I step harder on the gas, then take the next turn so recklessly that Noah lets out a startled yelp.

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