Page 18 of Queen of Rebels (Shifters of Sherwood #3)

Heat and light and sound—I can’t see.

Then nothing but fire.

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Consciousness comes back in pieces. The scratch of rough blankets. The familiar musty smell of the bootlegger's shack. Four distinct patterns of breathing around me.

"Easy." Rob's voice, closer than I expected. "Don't try to move too fast."

I open my eyes to find all four of them arranged around me like points on a compass. Rob perches on the edge of the bed, Will stoic by the window, Tuck hovering near my feet with our makeshift medical kit, LJ solid against the wall.

Memory hits like another explosion. "The car—" I rasp. “My Mustang—”

The silence that follows tells me everything, but Rob answers anyway. "Gone. Completely destroyed." His voice is gentle but firm, like pulling off a bandage.

"No." The word comes out raw. I try to sit up, but pain flares across my ribs. "No, there has to be something left. There has to be—"

"Princess." LJ's voice carries a warning. "You need to stay still."

But I can't. That car was more than transportation, more than just metal and engine parts. It was Saturday mornings with Dad, learning every inch of the machinery. It was the proud gleam in his eyes when I changed the oil by myself for the first time.

It was the last piece of him I had left.

"We have to go look," I insist, fighting against hands that try to keep me down. "Maybe—we can salvage—”

"Maren." Will this time, sharp enough to cut through my panic. "You have God knows how many cracked ribs and probably a concussion. You're not going anywhere."

"I don't care about my fucking ribs!" But the effort of shouting makes black spots dance across my vision. "That car was—” My voice cracks. "I can't lose it. I can't..."

"Greasemonkey. Maren. " Will's tone gentles. "Breathe."

"Here." Tuck presses something cool into my hand – a cup of water. "Small sips."

I want to fight them. Want to run back to the auction site and dig through the wreckage with my bare hands. But four sets of eyes watch me with that particular intensity that means they're ready to physically restrain me if they have to.

“Forget the car, Maren,” Rob says, his tone serious. “You’re lucky you weren’t more badly hurt.”

Hurt. The word doesn't begin to cover this hollow ache in my chest that has nothing to do with cracked ribs.

LJ moves first, crossing to sit on my other side. His good eye fixes on me with that intense focus that always makes me feel simultaneously exposed and protected. "Don’t listen to them,” he murmurs. “It’s hard to lose part of yourself.”

"Very profound." Will's voice carries its usual arch tone, but his hands are gentle as he stuffs another folded-up blanket behind my head. “Anything else to share with her? Live, laugh, love? Hang in there, baby?”

LJ swipes at him. “Fuck you.”

A laugh bubbles up before I can stop it, absurd as it is to laugh right now, then turns into a wince as my ribs protest.

"Can it with the comedy, okay?” Rob’s fingers find mine and squeeze. "We've got enough injuries to deal with."

"LJ’s right," Tuck says softly from his spot by my feet, choosing his words with careful precision. "It hurts to lose things. But you didn’t lose everything, right? The car held memories, yes. But those are still here." He reaches and taps my temple gently. "The knowledge he gave you, the skills he taught you – that's what matters. Not the metal."

"Besides," Rob adds, "you really think we're going to let Guy get away with this? Pretty sure there's a dragon here who's been itching to demonstrate the precise melting point of Italian sports cars."

Will examines his nails with elaborate casualness. "I'm sure I have no idea what you're implying.”

The joking helps, but I can see through it. But they're all watching me with that careful intensity I've come to recognize, the one that means they're more worried than they're letting on, the ones that carry entire conversations without words.

"You need to heal yourself," Tuck finally says, gentle but firm. "Your ribs especially. If one of them shifts wrong..."

"I know." But the thought of accessing that power now, when I'm already so drained... "Just give me a minute."

"Take your time, pretty lady." Rob's thumb traces circles on my palm. "We've got you."

I close my eyes, trying to find that warm core of energy that usually comes so easily now. It feels distant, sluggish, like trying to start a cold engine on a January morning. Come on.

The healing power finally rises, but it's unsteady, flickering like a bad fluorescent. I grit my teeth and push harder, feeling bone knit and tissue mend.

But God, it hurts. Not the healing itself, so much. The feeling of being drained. Of being wrung out.

"Enough," LJ growls as I start to shake. "You're going to pass out."

"Almost done." Just a little more...

“Maren.” Tuck sounds alarmed. “Stop. You’ll only—”

“Ah!” The last rib slides back into place with an internal click that makes me gasp.

Before anyone can ask if I’m okay, there’s a sharp knock at the door.

We freeze.

"Police." Zayn's voice, tight with urgency. "And before anyone panics, I'm alone."

Rob moves to the door while Will and LJ take defensive positions. Even injured, they fall into these patterns like breathing. Tuck's hand finds mine, steady and grounding.

"Jesus." Zayn's face is ash-grey as he takes in the scene. "You should be in a hospital."

His uniform is covered in soot, and something darker that might be blood.

My blood?

"That bad?" I try to smile, but his expression tells me everything.

“Where’ve you been?” LJ snarls. “You just dump her here and leave?”

“I...” Zayn jumps back, palms up, terror in his eyes. “I radioed in that I was pursuing suspects in the opposite direction. They had me on radar—I couldn’t just idle here waiting for them to come to me.” He looks at me. “Maren, I’m sorry. I...I was coming to warn you. Got word Guy changed his schedule, but by the time I got there..." His voice cracks slightly. "Saw the explosion from down the road. Got you out before EMS showed up."

The words hit like another blast wave. "You saved me?"

He shrugs, uncomfortable with the gratitude in my voice. "Couldn't exactly let them find you, could I? Though carrying you while

My throat tightens. But if Zayn was there, maybe he knows...

"The car?"

"Gone." His voice gentles. "Complete loss. Fire burned hot enough to warp the frame."

“What about what was in the trunk?” Tuck asks. “All the papers—evidence against Guy. Did anything...”

He doesn’t have to finish. I already know. I can see it in the way Zayn won't quite meet our eyes.

“I...”

Finally, LJ's growl breaks the stillness: "Spit it out." His good eye fixes on Zayn with predatory intensity. "There's nothing left at all?"

"There..." Zayn takes a half-step back. "No. Nothing survived the blast."

"Why didn't you know about the bomb?" Rob's voice stays carefully neutral, but there's an edge underneath. "If you're so plugged into what's happening, why didn’t you know?”

The room goes cold. Rob’s never talked to Zayn like this. Never that I can remember.

“I don’t know,” Zayn cries. “I don’t know why I didn’t know. They might be suspicious of me, or—”

"Suspicious." Rob's voice goes dangerously soft. " Might be suspicious? The fuck do you mean?"

"I mean I don’t know if they are. They've been... careful, lately." Zayn won't quite meet Rob's eyes. "Moving meetings at the last minute. Changing patrol schedules without telling me."

"And you didn't think to mention this before sending Maren into what was obviously a trap?" Will snaps. "Before she nearly—" He breaks off, but I catch the way his hands shake before he forces them still.

"How many times can I tell you: I didn't know. " The words burst from Zayn like they're being dragged out. “You think that if I had known, I wouldn’t have told you?”

LJ's growl fills the small room. "She could have been killed. "

"You think I don't know that?" Something raw breaks through Zayn's professional mask. "I pulled her out of that wreckage myself. Had her blood on my hands while I radioed in that the scene was clear, that there was nothing left to investigate." His voice catches. "Do you have any idea what that felt like?"

But before anyone can answer, Zayn's already moving toward the door, something bitter twisting his features.

"No, you know what? They're right." His laugh holds no humor. "I'm done trying to prove myself. Done walking this goddamn tightrope and trying to earn the trust of people who don’t even respect me."

"Zayn—" I start.

"I could have turned you in a hundred times." His voice cracks. "Could have told them exactly where to find you after the jail break. Could have let EMS take Maren straight to Guy. But I didn't." His hands clench at his sides. "I've risked everything for you—my career, my freedom, my life—and you still look at me like I'm going to sell you out just like that." He snaps his fingers.

"Because we can't be sure—" Will starts, but Zayn cuts him off.

"Fuck you, Scarlet. Fuck all of you." He yanks open the door, late afternoon light catching the badge. "You want to do this alone? Fine. Good luck staying alive."

"Wait—" Rob's voice carries an edge of desperation I've never heard before, but Zayn's already gone, leaving nothing but night air and the echo of his words.

The silence he leaves behind feels like another kind of explosion.