I RAN HOME to feed Coop before we left.

Phone check. Kit hadn’t called or emailed. I thanked the powers that be for my father’s naïveté. In a small way, I actually felt sorry for him.

I was heading back out the door when Coop fired past me and raced down the front steps.

“Coop! Stop! No roaming today!”

A bushy tail rounded the complex, heading for the rear driveway.

“Blargh!”

I found Coop standing beside the mailboxes, his attention focused on something in the woods.

“Let’s go, pal.” I grabbed his collar.

Coop glanced at me, then turned and barked, legs splayed, fur bristling along his spine.

A feeling of uneasiness swept over me. Was someone out there? Senses on high alert, I scanned the nearby trees.

Chance stepped from the bushes.

My pulse spiked, but I tried to force myself calm.

What to say to him? What had he seen?

As these questions swirled in my brain, my traitorous wolfdog trotted over and licked our visitor’s hand. Chance dropped to a knee and stroked Coop’s back.

“Tory. Good morning.” Still stunned, I said nothing.

“What’s that?” Chance cocked an ear, pretending to consider words I hadn’t spoken. “Why, I’m fine! Thank you for asking.”

“I’m glad you’re okay. How’d you get home?”

“Home?” Chance smirked. “I’m between those at the moment. I caught a few hours’ sleep at my father’s cabin, if that’s what you mean.”

“How’d you get off Bull Island?”

“The morning ferry. Nine a.m. sharp.” Chance thumped Coop’s side, then stood. “I gave the captain quite a scare, emerging from the brush and demanding a ride. I’m not looking my best.”

It was true. Chance’s face was blotchy and pale. A violet half moon underhung each eye. A tic in one cheek suggested barely controlled tension.

Chance had found a change of clothes—an old Citadel sweatshirt and outdated cargo pants—but the grit of a night outdoors still covered his skin.

Most frightening of all, Chance’s speech was somehow … off. His words sounded high and stretched, and came in short bursts like static from a squad-car radio.

I kept my face blank, my tone neutral. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Are you?”

“Of course. We were all concerned when you ran away.”

“Never mind that.” He changed the subject. “Where is Bonny’s treasure? What was inside the chest?”

I almost didn’t have the heart.

“Nothing, Chance. It was empty.”

The tic went into overdrive.

“You lie.” A whisper.

“I don’t.” I waved toward Shelton’s garage. “The chest is sitting in there. See for yourself, if you like. We struck out.”

Chance stared past me to a point out in space. His eyes had an odd look, as if he was battling inner demons.

“That is … disappointing.”

“It sucks,” I said. “We got a raw deal.”

Chance’s hands rose slowly and rubbed his cheeks. His brow furrowed.

“I’ve been under a lot of pressure lately,” he said. “My breakdown. Father’s public humiliation. The trial. While I’ve been locked away in that asylum, the Claybourne name has been dragged through the mud.”

I said nothing. I’d played a pivotal role in those events, a fact of which Chance needed no reminder.

“I’m concerned that perhaps I’m not … well. Not fully rested.”

“What do you mean?” Like I didn’t know.

“I think I might be seeing things that aren’t really there. Last night, for example.”

“It was late,” I said. “Dark. We were exhausted. Then everything happened so fast.”

“No!” His fingers curled into fists. “It was more than that!”

Chance drilled me with a look.

“I saw, Tory. Your eyes changed. Became golden. Like the wolves that attacked on the beach.”

I searched for a reply, came up blank.

“This wasn’t the first time, either. In my basement, the night Hannah—”

Chance flinched as if burned. It was a very long moment before he continued.

“That night, I was on the ground. There was blood everywhere, and the pain was indescribable. But I watched. You moved too fast!”

You were hurt,” I said. “Confused. And we were fighting for our lives.”

“No!” He shook his head. “I know what I saw!”

Chance’s breath became ragged. A sheen of sweat appeared on his brow.

“I’d assumed it was my imagination. After all, I’d been shot. Betrayed. Even now those memories are unbearable.”

Chance’s fist struck his open palm. “But the same thing happened last night. Your eyes turned golden. You moved with amazing speed. It was incredible.”

What to say? Chance knew. There was nothing I could do to persuade him otherwise.

Then he threw me a lifeline.

“Am I crazy?” His voice had a desperate quality. “Suddenly I don’t trust my own senses. My dreams are haunted. I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

Chance’s hand shot out and grabbed mine.

“Is it real, Tory? Do your eyes change? Or am I in worse shape than I thought?”

Guilt battered me in waves.

I hated to lie. Worse, to chip away at Chance’s grip on reality.

But I had to protect myself. Protect my friends.

In the end, there was no choice to be made.

“My eyes don’t glow, Chance.” I wrapped my hands around his. “They’re green, as always.”

I held his gaze, hoping the deception wasn’t naked on my face. I had to convince Chance I wasn’t lying. Wasn’t hiding anything. I needed him to believe.

“I think you’re unwell.” I felt disgust for myself. “Stressed out. Your mind is playing tricks on you.”

“Tricks,” he repeated numbly.

“It’s all in your head,” I whispered, driving the dagger home.

“Of course.” Chance seemed to wilt.

Coop nuzzled Chance’s side, then turned and yipped at me. The wolfdog seemed to know I was warping his new friend’s fragile psyche. And did not approve.

I felt lower than pond scum.

“Perhaps I should check back into Marsh Point for a bit,” Chance said. “My … work there isn’t done. They probably miss me by now.”

Neither of us smiled at his attempt at levity.

He’s better off back at the hospital. Chance still isn’t well.

“Let us take you,” I said. “Ben can drive.”

“I didn’t walk here, Tory.” He waved to a black motorcycle parked down the drive. “There are lots of toys at my father’s cabin.”

“Will you get into trouble?”

“Trouble?” Chance’s smirk suggested some of his old swagger. “I’m a Claybourne. For all I know, my family owns that hospital. I expect a discrete reunion.”

I walked him to the bike, a Kawasaki Z1000. Sleek and aerodynamic, the thing looked like a spaceship on crack. After strapping on a helmet, Chance reached down and petted Coop one last time.

Then he looked at me. “I’ll see you again, I’m sure.”

Hammering back guilt, I kept my voice steady.

“Just get better, Chance.”

He nodded, straddled the bike, and was gone.