Page 90 of The Grizzly Situation

“One of the boys said your breath smelled funny.”

“Smart kids.”

Brent shifted back. “What’s this about?” he demanded.

“I don’t know what it is, but Gavin is sick. The boys smelled it on him.”

Leaning forward, Brent took a whiff and his nose wrinkled. “What the hell?”

“It’s cancer, isn’t it?” Chaim demanded.

“Yeah. Stage four. Probably got a month or two to live.”

“And you thought, what? You’d come here and force your own son to kill you? What a fucking coward,” I snapped.

“So you’re dying? Is that what you’re telling me?” Brent asked.

“Yeah.”

A sick smile crossed Brent’s face. “Good. You deserve to suffer for the horrible human being you are.”

Not one person raised their voice in Gavin’s defense. No one said Brent was being harsh. I wanted to speak up, but this? It wasn’t my world. Mine was out there, among humans. This was the sleuth, and their rules held sway. If Brent wanted him gone, he would be going.

“Please, Typhon. Let me die in my homeland.”

Brent barked a laugh. “No. If you had come here and said you were sick, maybe. But youstilltried to cheat to get your own way. I have to tell you, over the years I’ve wondered if you’d changed. If you had become a better person. I have my answer.” He pulled out his phone, pressed a button, then held it to his ear. “Cullin, I need you to pick someone up at the house and take them to the airport. You’re not to leave until they get on the plane and are airborne.”

Then he put his phone away.

“Chaim? Can you keep an eye on him until Cullin can take over?”

“You got it,Typhon.”

Brent glared at him. “Never call me that again.” He turned to his father. “Good to see you, Dad. Hope the end is painful.”

Then he took my hand and led me to the room where the boys were playing. When they saw me, they came running.

“Mama!”

“I need you to go back to playing,” Brent said. “Let me take care of Uly, then we can all cuddle together, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy!”

After they went back to playing with the teddy bear I’d given them, Brent went to the bathroom, then came back with a basin that he set beside me as he knelt down.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he stroked a cloth over my face, cleaning off the blood.

“For what?”

“He never should have gotten near you. I’ll hire guards and?—”

“No. Don’t do this. You shouldn’t apologize, not to me.”

“He hurt you,” Brent growled, and I could see the anger and pain etched on his face.

“No. Hetriedto hurt me. You, Chaim, Benjy, Amelia, and the boys? You protected me.”

“But—”