A/N: Honestly, please tell me if I need to change the rating of this story. I'm considering doing outtakes to keep it Rated T, and that's if this story doesn't accidentally become Rated M anyway. This chapter happened by accident.

Just because I'm spoiling you doesn't mean you all go silent! Much love.

Disclaimer: James Patterson owns the characters and any recognizable canon info. Thanks JP, for this chaotic universe you gifted us.

M

"How could he just leave?"

Fang is lying on the roof beside me, sprawled out, staring up at the stars. There are so many of them visible here, in the middle of the mountains. The kids are sleeping inside, have been for hours.

But I haven't been able to really sleep for days.

We woke up three days ago to Jeb gone. His things mostly untouched, as if he hadn't known he was going anywhere. No note, no clues, nothing out of place.

Except Jeb.

The others were confused and sad, but I was distraught. While I was the one most of the kids trusted first and foremost, and went to for comfort, reassurance or advice...Jeb was that for me. The moment he stole us from the School that night he'd been my North Star. He was the only mentor I knew, the only person I had known to look to for guidance or leadership.

And now he was gone. How could he leave us? How could he leave me?

"Do you think someone took him?"

I can hear Fang rolling his eyes without looking over at him.

"Without us hearing it?" he counters.

I frown. "Well it doesn't make sense!"

Fang is up abruptly, on his feet. Towering over me. "What if he didn't leave?"

I blink up at him. That doesn't make any sense. He isn't here. If he isn't here, he had to have left. I shake my head, but Fang pushes.

"He didn't leave, Max," Fang says, coming closer. I step back, suddenly feeling my neck crawl. I look over Fang's shoulder, over the edge of the E House's slanted roof. The sky is suddenly pitch black, not a star in sight. It's so vast and dark. It's swallowing us.

Fang's hands reach out to grab me, shake me by the shoulders—

I violently jolt awake, Fang's arms tightening around me in response. He's awake, because his hand comes up to smooth away some of the hair sticking to my face.

I lever myself up, dragging in a deep breath. I glance over his shoulder at the motel's cheap alarm clock. We'd only laid down about an hour ago to try to get some rest. We had spent many hours in our room when we first got home—first while I cried myself out, and then when we discussed every uncomfortable memory from the day.

Fang really wasn't coping with it, to be quite honest.

If you wanted my unprofessional opinion on the matter.

To be fair, though, were any of us?

It is slightly discouraging, though, that even Fang is rattled. Not to say our past doesn't haunt him or affect him, because it absolutely does. It does that for each of us, in unique, awful ways. But Fang seems to be on the precipice of complete and utter disbelief, and I don't often see him stumped. One thing's for sure, it is comforting as hell to know I'm not the only one that thinks this whole plot of Jeb's is completely fucking out-of-the-norm crazy.

Our lives have been crazy, but this is like leveling up in crazy.

After our decompression together, we had grabbed some of the pizza that the kids had already ravaged. I'd asked the group if they wanted to talk about anything yet, but most everyone had claimed to be tired. We'd all retired to take a nap around four o'clock.

Now, nearly five, Fang and I are curled up on one of the beds in our room. The connecting doors are open again, and I wonder if I woke anyone up or made any noise.

Fang sees me looking toward the door. "Should I close it?"

I shake my head, pulling the loose hair tie out of my hair and scooping all the fallen strands into a tighter ponytail.

"I'm alright," I say quietly. "Just a dream."

Fang cocks an eyebrow at me, levered up next to me on the pillows. I shake my head, and he sighs, lying down flat again. I slide down next to him, rolling to face away from him. He scoots in closer behind me, one arm sliding over my waist. He's so warm it's intoxicating, my skin tingling as I steal his heat, crawling back into the cocoon that is a cheap motel comforter and him.

He's pressed perfectly against me, and silently in my head I rethink my answer about closing the door. It's so not the time for it, but I crave him right now more than anything. Maybe as an escape from the feelings and questions. Maybe because I'm scared and worried and need to unwind. Maybe because I always fucking crave him.

I wiggle a little against him, barely, just trying to say I want you, but I realize now is not the time or something. His fingers drag across my stomach, curving down to trace the edge of my hip.

"Was it...that kind of dream?" Fang asks.

I snort softly, rolling my eyes. "No."

"Huh," he murmurs. "Mixed signals."

I squeeze his fingers. "I know it's fucked up, I can't help that I cope in the wrong ways."

Fang tucks his nose into the crook of my neck. "We should definitely try not to use sex as some kind of coping mechanism," he quips. "But we are allowed to make exceptions."

I bite my lip. I roll over onto my back, looking up at him. He is lying next to me, head propped up on one hand. His lips twitch.

"Are we awful?"

"I don't know, are we?"

Fang slides out from under the covers and pads over to the door. He's only wearing a shirt and some sweatpants, but to be absolutely frank—he looks good. His hair is messy from sleep, his wings slightly relaxed, the lowest feathers trailing on the ground behind him. Once he softly shuts the door, he comes back over. He pulls off his shirt and drops his sweats before crawling back in next to me.

He lies on his side and looks at me. "Take your shorts off."

I laugh quietly, pushing his shoulder. "Romantic."

He grins, scooting forward to kiss me, fingers sliding under the hem of my shirt. I roll over onto him, pulling my lips away from his to sit up and ditch my shirt. I'm not wearing a bra, which is pretty much the norm for us. Fang's fingers are already doing exploring, sliding up my sides and making my flesh break out in goosebumps.

I lean down toward him, capturing his mouth again in a quick, near-miss kiss before landing right below his ear and sucking gently.

"My move," he grunts quietly, arms curling tightly around me. He rolls us over and leans down to me now, hovering darkly over me with a light in his eyes. He comes very close, until his eyes are right before mine. He lowers his voice seriously.

"Are you gonna be able to stay quiet?"

I grin up at him and reach down, ditching the last of my clothes. I kick them off quickly and start pushing at Fang's last article of clothing impatiently. He sits back, pushes them off finally, and moves down to lay fully on top of me now, a little too high. I shift and wiggle relentlessly below him until he's where I want him. When he's settled there, my breath hitches. The pressure of his weight and the feeling of his entire body against mine, combined with his mouth moving down my neck is all so sensational.

My phone buzzes on the dresser. For one split second I wonder what horrible thing could be happening now—is it Alana? What else has been discovered?

But then Fang pulls his lips away from my neck to look down at me, eyes gazing directly into mine. He smiles gently. He gives me a moment to re-prioritize, if necessary.

Not necessary.

I pull him back down. Next urgent crisis be damned, I'm busy.