Page 13

WREN

I gaped at the man I could see had a feral edge to him now. He threw a head into the fire, but as it spun, I recognized it as one of the guys from the Death Walkers. He’d broken two of my fingers before slicing my thighs with a blade—and had threatened worse.

I couldn’t find any regret that the man had been wiped from the Earth. I knew he hadn’t only caused me pain. He’d hurt so many others. And Brix was doing them all a service.

He tossed head after head into the blaze as King and Ender argued off to the side. I could hear snippets of the conversation, each wanting to take a different approach to reining Brix in.

Locke leaned into me, his arm pressing against mine in a show of comfort. “When Brix gets like this, the only thing that helps is making sure the threat has been neutralized. He needs to make sure the person he cares about is safe.”

My heart broke for him. The only outlet Brix seemed to have was pain. It was how he made his way through the world. All he understood.

“It’s his way of telling you he’s sorry,” Puck said softly.

“Nothing like heads in a bonfire,” I muttered.

Puck’s lips twitched. “Just be glad he didn’t dump them on your bed or something.”

Hell.

But as I watched Brix lay waste to at least a dozen, I felt a deep sadness settle over me. When he threw the last one in, I moved, crossing the space to get to him. But just before I reached him, two figures stepped into my path, towering over me.

“Don’t,” Ender clipped. “Not when he’s in this state.”

A muscle fluttered in Kingston’s cheek. “He’s right. Brix needs time to come down.”

I scowled at them both. “What he needs is connection.” And even though Brix had hurt me with his silence and doubts, I couldn’t leave him alone. Because I knew what alone felt like.

“It’s too dangerous,” King ground out.

“I know what I can handle. Now, move.” I barked the words, my anger at so many things bubbling to the surface.

Hurt flickered across Kingston’s face, but I refused to let it in.

A low growl sounded behind them. Brix bared his teeth, and I knew that if these two didn’t move, we’d all be in serious trouble. I didn’t wait. I shoved through the small opening between their bodies as Ender cursed. But I didn’t stop, I grabbed Brix by his T-shirt and tugged him after me.

He needed distance from the death and destruction. Distance from the pack tension. Space to let his wolf breathe.

I guided him to the stream as his anger, rage, and guilt raked against my emotional shields like its own kind of torture. Kicking off my shoes, I stepped into the water. “Bend down,” I ordered.

Brix’s head tilted to the side in that animalistic way of his as he studied me.

“Please,” I said, softening my tone.

He did as I asked but kept a wary eye on me.

I pulled Brix down a little farther, dunking his hands into the stream. I rubbed his palms, clearing away all signs of blood, any reminder of what he’d done. The more distance he got from that violence, the better. I just hoped the guys were doing away with the bonfire business.

Brix’s eyes closed, and he let out a pained noise.

I stilled but didn’t let go. “Too much?”

He shook his head, his eyes opening again. That swirling blue-green held so much agony. “Feels too good. I don’t deserve it.”

“Brix,” I croaked.

“Hurt you.”

Pain—the good and the bad kind—swirled within me. “You did.”

It wouldn’t help to lie to him now. His wolf would know it, and so would mine. We needed straight talk. Honesty. Even if those truths hurt.

Fur rippled over Brix’s arms, but I didn’t let go. “Hate myself for hurting you.”

I moved in closer, straightening but not letting go of Brix’s hands. “I don’t want that. I don’t hate you.”

“It’d be easier if you did.”

“Do you hate me?” The question tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop it. I hadn’t realized that it was the question I needed the answer to more than anything. Was there a chance they could all see past my lineage to who I truly was?

Brix’s face transformed, softened. His free hand lifted, and his knuckles, cold from the icy water, skimmed down my scar. “I could never hate you. You made me feel again.”

Tears gathered in my eyes. “But you don’t want to feel.”

“I didn’t,” he admitted. “It was too much. I had to turn it off or it would have drowned me.”

I knew that feeling. The mounting overwhelmingness of agony. I’d turned it off in the pit. In the torture sessions with my father and his men. It was the only option sometimes.

Brix gripped my fingers tighter and seemed to be at war with something. “My sister. She was the last kind touch I had before you. I held her hand as she struggled to live. I held her hand when she couldn’t. I held her hand for hours after she went cold, the life slipping from her veins.”

And my father, my pack, had done that.