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Tessa saved my life.

Malachi’s hands found my face, wiping away the tears that were only replaced with more. How could I have let this happen?

I was her protector. I was the one who took care of her. I was the one who kept her safe.

No, no, no.This could not be real. Tessa couldn’t really be dead.

I would wake up in the morning and this would all be one wicked, horrific dream. It was all a nightmare,yes.Thatmade sense. That madeperfectsense.

What didn’t make any damned sense was my sister being dead!

I looked back down at her, tears dropping from my chin down to my chest. She was so pale. So lifeless.

I wanted to hug her. I wanted to pull her scrawny little body to mine and hold her until it was all okay, like I had done hundreds of times before. I wanted to go to sleep in our tiny little bed and give her my blanket, too, because hers was never enough to keep her warm in the winter.

I wanted to teach her how to tie a knot, even though she was completely helpless and wasn’t getting anywhere with her hunting skills.

I wanted to look her in the eye and tell her I loved her, because Saints, I hadn’t done that enough.

“Jade,” Malachi’s voice interrupted my thoughts. I finally looked at him, but he was staring at something behind me.

When I glanced over my shoulder to see who else was in the garden, another wave of debilitating sorrow hit me.

Father.

“Oh, Tessa,” he moaned. He stumbled forward and fell to his knees beside me, grabbing her limp arm. “Tessa, Tessa, Tessa.”

I couldn’t say anything as I watched the horror. I had hated my father for years, probably more than half my life. I had watched him abandon her time and time again. And time and time again,Iwas the one that stepped in. That told him to sober up, or to get out of the house until he calmed down.

But he was our father. He washerfather.

Tessa had never looked at him with the same hatred that I did. She was frightened of him at times, and certainly disappointed, but she never hated him.

And I think he knew that.

I wanted to reach out and console him, pat his shoulder as he knelt beside me. But I couldn't.

“What happened?” he said when he looked up. He glanced rapidly between me and Mal. “Tell me what in the Saints happened to my daughter!”

Numb. I felt numb nothingness as Malachi answered, “There was a fight. She was…she was killed.”

A shaking sob wrecked through my father. I had only seen this side of him one other time.

But not like this.

My father bent down again, pressing his forehead against hers. Against his cold, dead daughter’s skin.

He mumbled things that I couldn't understand, things that I didn’t even want to try to understand.

When he looked up after quite some time, it wasn’t sorrow that dripped over his features. It was anger.

“You swore to me that she would be safe. That we would be safe here!”

“I know,” I breathed.

Shame washed over me. I deserved every bit of it.

“You SWORE to me! She was your sister! Your baby sister!”