<h4>Chapter 232: _ The Bait</h4>


    Luis might shy away from trying again if I created a ruckus about his little improvements, he might not want to try again.


    "Right?!" I said instead, throwing my hands up. "And it just gets better, bro. Hold onto your nonexistent popcorn."


    I inhaled deeply, the air tasting damp and musty, like mildew, had invited all its stinky cousins over for a family reunion.


    I shook my head, forcing myself to focus through the exhaustion weighing down my limbs.


    "The bodies, Luis," I said, voice going low. "There were bodies. Boys. Young. Barely older than neen and twenty."


    A shiver rippled through me. My fists clenched against my thighs.


    "Dead," I said hollowly. "Their heads..." I broke off as my throat went tight, then pushed through. "Gone. Just...gone. Like something tore them clean off."


    The memory flickered to life behind my eyes: twisted bodies crumpled in the mud, their faces gone, blood soaking into the earth like grotesque flowers.


    I rubbed my face again, feeling the stubble scrape against my palms.


    "And it wasn’t clean, either," I muttered. "It wasn’t surgical. It was savage. Like whatever did it wasn’t just trying to kill—they were trying to send a message."


    Luis’s eyes remained ssy, but something in the room shifted. Maybe just my own paranoia ratcheting up another notch.


    The rain kept drumming on the ss, louder now, almost aggressive.


    "I started investigating," I said, forcing myself to keep talking. "Interviewed witnesses. Dug around the grounds. Tried piecing together what the hell happened while we were out cold."


    I chuckled humorlessly.


    "And get this," I said, pointing vaguely at the cracked ceiling. "It all started right here. Right in this room. The witch, he or she has been following me..."


    I froze.


    Right. Here.


    This was where I’d copsed. Where I’d slept. Where Luis stilly unmoving.


    Where the witch had attacked me.


    The room seemed to close in on me, the air growing thick and heavy, like someone had dumped a bucket of invisible msses over everything.


    I sat up straighter, heart thudding now with sweat beading on the back of my neck despite the cold.


    The witch.


    The witch who could cloak themself.


    Make themself invisible. They could be here. They could be listening too.


    My first reaction and thought was to quit my rant. I was about to sprawl up and leave when a thought crossed my mind.


    Why not make María José’s work easier? Since she was to y along with the witch, pretending like she didn’t know he was not the real Mateo, then let me help her out.


    I leaned back a little on the couch, making it creak beneath me, pretending like the sudden gut-knotting panic hadn’t just sucker-punched me in the kidneys.


    If the witch was here, somewhere in this room, hidden under that cloaking spell...


    Well, I’d just have to keep talking. y it casual. Maybe even throw out some bait.


    I wiped my palms on my jeans slowly, as if I were just fidgeting, but really, my skin was slick with cold sweat.


    Even my <i>eyebrows</i> were sweating. <i>How the hell do eyebrows sweat?</i>


    Whatever. Focus, Axel.


    "You know, bro," I said, putting on my best casual tone—which came out a little too loud and squeaky, like a hormonal squirrel.


    "I was thinking about María José earlier. About where she’s living now."


    I watched Luis out of the corner of my eye. He’s in the same position. Nothing, I mean, nothing was moving... not his eyeballs, not his eyshes or a flutter of those eyshes of his.


    It was as though someone had pressed ’Pause’ on him.


    But again, before I could dwell on that, I felt that weird subtle pressure in the room, like someone holding their breath just a little too close to my neck.


    <i>Get it together, Axel. You can do this. </i>


    It wasn’t like I was scared of this witch, whoever they were, but fighting an opponent you can’t see is synonymous with fighting blindly.


    Anyway, let’s get back to the performance.


    "She’s staying in this little hut," I continued, waving a handzily like I was painting the memory. "Near the southern edge of the pack. You remember Santa Leticia, don’t you? That ce is now more horrible


    I forced a chuckle, feeling my pulse jackhammer in my throat.


    "It’s real secluded out there. Real lonely too. Not many patrols pass by. She’s... she’s basically alone most nights."


    I was taking this chance because I knew that if the witch wanted María José’s life, they would have taken it. For some reason, they were keeping her alive.


    That exactly was going to be the one thing I’d use against them:


    A <i>creak</i> so faint it could’ve been the house settling whispered from the far corner of the room.


    I fought not to react. Nope. Nope. Just a house. Old wood. Old ghosts.


    "And get this," I said, shifting on the couch and trying not to let my knee bounce nervously, "she’s living with someone now."


    I scratched at the back of my neck, making it look casual even as every instinct inside me screamed to run.


    "My instincts hated it at first," I admitted, letting my voice dip into something bitter. "Some random guy? Living under the same roof? Yeah, no thanks."


    Iughed dryly, the sound as brittle as dead leaves.


    "But hey," I said with a sigh. "At least she’s got shelter. Company. Someone watching her back, you know?"


    I let that hang in the air, let the room soak it in, pretending I didn’t feel that cloying invisible gaze raking across my skin.


    And then, the pièce de résistance—the bait.


    "Anyway, I’m meeting her tomorrow," I said, shing azy smile at the cracked ceiling.


    "Down by the Hollow."


    Luis didn’t flinch. Of course he didn’t.


    But the room grew <i>tighter</i>. Like someone had cinched an invisible belt around my lungs another notch.


    The Hollow.


    Secluded, wild, easy to get ambushed in if you weren’t paying attention.


    The perfect ce for a witch to try something <i>again.</i>


    "I figured," I continued, making my voice almost dreamy now,


    "I’d finally tell her how I feel. Profess my undying love and all that crap. Maybe bring her flowers. Maybe trip and fall into a ravine. Who knows."


    Another soft <i>thud</i> from the far side of the room.


    My heart took off like a startled horse, but I stayed still, staying in character.


    Inside, my brain was screaming:


    <strong>THAT WASN’T THE DAMN HOUSE. THAT WASN’T THE DAMN HOUSE.</strong>


    But I just sighed theatrically and leaned my head back against the couch again.


    "She deserves to know," I murmured. "Even if I’m five months toote and still a walking disaster that even though I love her, she’s not wife material. I will marry Rosa and lock María José, the love of my life who is so unfortunate to be wolfless in a dungeon. I can’t have a weak Luna. álvaro and Father willugh at me."


    Now, if the exact words were repeated to María José, then it’d be without a doubt that the witch just might be squatting with Luis.


    Right in this room. Maybe that’s why no one had seen them.