“What did she tell you, Carter? Did you know about the facility?”
“No, lassie. I had no idea, and just as I told Brendan, if I had known, then I would have done something about it.” His shoulders hunched, and I caught sight of liquid silver flecks dancing in his eyes.
I looked back at the trees. “So what do you know?”
“I knew I would be meeting you. That you would stay here and would help us with something; I am presuming that something is going to be the facility. The rest, and there is more—”
“You promised not to tell,” I offered.
“And I will honour that promise.”
I guess that is fair enough. It sucks, but I guess you have to respect a deal.
“What I don’t understand is why she sent Brendan.”
“I asked her about that. At the time she came to talk to me, Brendan had only been with our Pack for a few years. When she first saw him, she just said ‘oh good, he’s here’.”
“Brendan said she mentioned our paths were crossed.”
“She did. In all honesty, her gift confused me. None of us knew you, especially not Brendan, and you wouldn’t meet him before you actually did, yet she saw herself sending him. Saw him saving you. But whatever the reason, there will be one.”
“You must follow the path,” I mumbled, watching as the wind shook the trees.
“Brendan went into this blind, knowing he needed to keep you safe and—”
“He has kept his end of the bargain. He is finished. My Gran would be thankful, but I am not his responsibility or his concern anymore.”
“I understand that, pet, but is it so wrong for him to be concerned about someone who has fought beside him? Wrong for him to perhaps consider you a friend, even though your time together has been short?”
“I don’t have friends. I never really have.”
“Weren’t you concerned for him once you had been taken? Brendan said he overheard you lying to the Colony leader. He said you were trying to get them to let him go free.”
He was supposed to be unconscious.
“As I said, if he hadn’t been shoved on me, he wouldn’t have been taken; shouldn’t have been.”
“But he was, lassie, and like he promised, he kept you safe and watched over you every single day. He speaks to you as a friend, not as someone who is trying to declare you a weaker person. You will go with the Pack tonight, and Brendan will be by your side. He is one of my strongest, and apart from Dante and Owen, he is the only other one I trust to take care of you.”
~ Brendan ~
Despite their words being no more than low mumbles—I’d stopped a good distance from the house so our own conversation wouldn’t be heard—Carter’s laughter still invaded my ears. I stepped through the veranda doors that led into the long living room, where most of the Pack had ended up after lunch.
I could still feel my muscles twitching with the tension that had stayed with me since the meeting, but our argument had let me work off most of my built-up anger. I walked past the group watching television, keeping my eyes straight ahead so I didn’t make contact with anyone. My Wolf was restless, and I hadn’t a damn clue as to why. I’d said what I needed to and as I suspected, Heather had snapped back, but not in the way I expected her to. She had been right, about everything, not that she would ever hear it from me. She wasn’t my concern, or my responsibility, and one day—especially the way she went about things—she would die. I had saved her more than once. I had done what I promised. So why did my Wolf dislike the situation? Why did he want to stay by her side? Why did I?
“One last experiment,” Lance had kept saying.
What had I expected after that, to be let go? To be allowed to skip right out of the facility with Heather? He’d been so fascinated with the two of us; I had quickly jumped to the conclusion that he wanted to create a Hybrid, but why did I never consider Heather or myself to be the ideal candidates? I just thought he wanted to use parts of us, not use us as hosts. Maybe I didn’t think about it because I had more important things on my mind, like the hard-headed, broken female flailing about in my arms, and getting us both the hell out of there.
The memory of his skull breaking in my hands flooded my mind, and my lips tugged into a grin. I had been too easy on the bastard; I should have tortured him. The way he had tortured Heather. The way he’d tortured me.
I made my way up the three stairs. Just as I prepared to walk through the arch into the hall, a low hum met my ears, a familiar taunt I’d heard many times before, and I already knew who I would see once I turned around. His repulsive cologne already invaded the air around me.
I walked over to where Philippe sat, still humming who’s afraid of the big bad wolf cheerfully as he read his newspaper. I could feel the eyes of my Pack on me as I snatched the newspaper from his hand and threw it onto the bear rug.
“Is something wrong, Brendan?” His French accent twisted with his smile. “Or may I continue reading in peace?”
He made no effort to move; he wasn’t as stupid as I wished he would be.
“You’re pushing your luck, Phil.” I turned to walk out of the living room.
The last notes of the hum rang in my ears like a bell and I felt my claws sliding from my fingers. I turned back to him just as I felt a hand clamp my shoulder.
“Brendan, I need your advice on something.” Owen’s voice washed over me, his energy both calm and full of warning.
“Sure.” I forced myself to turn and walk with him. We headed through the dining room and into the kitchen.
“You shouldn’t let him get to you,” Owen said gently as we walked through the doorway.
“I know, but one day, he will be clinging to the edge of the cliff he’s dancing on, and I will break every single bone in his body three times before throwing him to the bottom.”
“Well, you’re in a chipper mood,” Eve’s voice bellowed from the large pantry.
“Isn’t he always?” Owen laughed and grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl. He hopped up onto the kitchen worktop.
“Are we talking about who I think we are, darlin’ brother?”
“If you’re thinking Phil, sis, then you would be right.”
Eve emerged from the pantry with three bags of flour in hand. Tall, lean, and although she took after her mother, so I’d been told, she had her uncle Dante’s chestnut colouring, only her hair had a slightly redder tint. Owen had hazel eyes, while hers were a hazel-blue shade. Females with a Werewolf father were born as Loup-Garous. They didn’t transform the same way Werewolves did; they remained more human, with slight wolf-like alterations. Just as strong, and they healed just as quickly. Not to mention their senses were equally as sharp. Eve took after her father in every manner, but she could cook a hell of a lot better.
“How are you feeling, Brendan?”
“I have honestly felt better.” I rested my hip against the worktop next to Owen.
“And you’ve also looked better,” Owen said, crunching a chunk of his apple.
“At least I look better than you. What the hell have you done to your hair?” I asked, looking up at the weird spikes emerging from his skull.
“I felt like a change.”
“Has it got anything to do with a certain blonde Loup?”
He winked.
“You look ridiculous. You’re too old to pull that look off.”
“What look?”
“The teenage boy band look.”
Owen’s fist landed on my arm. “Matter of opinion, Bren. Besides, I don’t look my age.”
“And with the new haircut, you should be happy about that.” Eve walked back into the pantry.
Owen was thirty-nine, but thanks to our gene, he looked around twenty-nine, whereas Eve looked around thirty-four, that being the only downside for a Loup-Garou. They aged slightly faster than a Werewolf, but considering that the siblings were both near forty, well, they didn’t look it.
“How is Clare, anyway? Enjoying the new job?”
/>
“Loves it.”
I nodded. “That’s good.”
Clare had taken a pretty bad hit during the last Rogue—or should I say, fucked-up Vampire—attack. They’d poisoned her system with monkshood, meaning the chunk they’d ripped out of her leg had taken longer to heal. Bad for a Loup-Garou, and terrible for a dancer. Not to mention, the entire situation had done a job on Owen’s blood pressure.
Luckily, she had recovered in no time, and due to Sofia’s fantastic timing, having to head down to London meant that Clare and Owen had to put their plans to move in together on hold. At least Clare had managed to get herself a job during the delay.
“Is Heather resting?” Eve asked, emerging from the pantry with an armful of ingredients.
“She is talking to Carter.”
Eve nodded without meeting my gaze. I felt the question, whether Sofia had shared information with Eve or Owen, dancing on my tongue, but by now, I knew what the answer would be, and after everything.... I didn’t care to hear the lie again.
“If Heather is to be joining you tonight, I think she is going to need clothes that will actually fit her. She looked extremely uncomfortable during dinner,” Eve said, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel.
I decided not to mention how her comfort levels had nothing to do with the borrowed female clothing she wore.
“So before I start baking for the ravening thousands once more, I’ll go and find her something decent to put on.”
“Thank you, Eve.” I nodded as she walked out the side door to the main hallway. Then I rotated my head, listening as the built-up tension popped.
“How are your wounds?” Owen asked, throwing his apple core at the bin, which hit the flap and fell inside.
I rubbed my hands over my face. “They are scarring beautifully.”
“Go get some rest. You haven’t had a full night’s sleep since you got back.”
“And risk giving the Slayer a chance to rip my throat open like she has wanted to do since we first met? You’re damn right I haven’t slept.”
“One of us would have stayed with her.”
I shook my head. “She doesn’t know any of you. She could have lashed out—”
“I’m sure we would have managed.”
I shrugged, refusing to admit he might be correct.
“She’s right, you know? She isn’t your responsibility.”
“I was sent to keep her safe; therefore, her safety is my responsibility. If she decided to jump off a building, it would have been my responsibility to stop her.”
“But if she did it, then that would be that. She is her own person, with her own mind and choices. You can only do so much. Shit happens, Bren.”
“I told her she would be safe with me, Owen.” Something I had regretted doing as soon as the promise had left my mouth. “I failed her.”
“You kept her as safe as you—”
“It wasn’t enough.”
“You saved her life. You helped her track the Leech she’s been looking for, and helped her wipe out an entire building of them. Most importantly, you got her out of the—”
“All of you got us out of the facility,” I corrected him quickly.
“Don’t be cheeky to your elders.”
I looked at him with a raised left eyebrow. “You’re my elder by three years.”
“Doesn’t matter, I’m still older. My point is, Brendan, if you hadn’t been there before the whole facility thing, she would have died on a back street in London. You’ve done what you’ve had to.”
“Then why doesn’t it feel like I’ve done enough?” I didn’t mean to ask the question out loud, but before I could cover it, Owen hopped off the counter and stood in front of me.
“What more could you have done?”
“Stopped us getting caught. I should have led her away from the building, not into a trap—”
“You knew how important it was for her to find this Vampire. You couldn’t have done that.”
No, perhaps not, but I wish I had. “What if I bit her and transferred the gene?”
“You didn’t. Besides, you wouldn’t have fought her. Lance may have found Heather’s weakness, but he didn’t find yours.”
Yes, he did. He threw me in a room with someone I would never hurt. What would I have done if I hadn’t seen her face in time?
“None of this is your fault, Brendan,” he said firmly, placing his hands on my shoulders. “Just like Natasha, her death wasn’t your fault.”
Tension squeezed my chest. I really didn’t want to go down that road.
“It’s always someone’s fault.” I met his gaze. “I didn’t fight hard enough, not then and not—”
“Gideon is dead. You made him pay for what he did,” he said, applying pressure to his grip.
Killing Gideon had been satisfying, but didn’t change a damn thing. Natasha died, and I hadn’t been able to save her. I wouldn’t let the same thing—or maybe something worse—happen to Heather.
“As for Heather, you have kept her alive, as requested. You’ve done everything required, and more.”
“I—”
“Let the past go, Bren, or it will ruin your future.”
I nodded, dropping my gaze. My tongue hammered against my teeth as I clamped them down, keeping the protest locked in my mouth.
“Now, go get some rest. We all need you to be on your game tonight.” He pulled me into a hard embrace, then left the kitchen.
Chapter Seventeen
~ Heather ~
After Carter so kindly walked me to the base of the stairs, past the piercing stare of his Pack congregated in the living room, I came up to my room with no intention of sleeping. I had been out like a light for eight days. I wasn’t exhausted, and thankfully, my body didn’t hurt as much as it had when I first woke up.
When I got back to the bedroom, I walked in and found my boots cleaned up and placed at the foot of my bed. Three pairs of trousers were laid on my bed, alongside three different tops. I unfolded the note on top of a long-sleeved, purple shirt.
Heather, I’m so sorry we haven’t had time to meet yet but we will get that chance later. I picked out three possible outfits that will hopefully fit you better than the clothes you are currently wearing. Eve.
I held up the black halter-neck and jeans, which looked a little tight, but considering my other clothes had gone missing, they would do for tonight.
The sun had moved, leaving the softer light of dusk to trickle through my window. After changing my clothes, studying the paintings and furnishings in the room, I decided to lie down and think about what Carter had said to me; what he had said about my Gran.
* * * * *
A heavy knock echoed throughout the room, making me jump. I took a moment to let my eyes adjust to the sudden darkness. I had fallen asleep.
So much for not being tired.
“Heather?” Brendan’s soft voice seeped through the door.
I flicked on the lamp at my bedside and sat up. “Come in.”
The door opened, then he walked in with two bottles of cloudy red liquid.
“You got some sleep? Good,” he said, shutting the door and walking to the cream-coloured chair.
I yawned. “I guess I did.”
“We leave in twenty minutes,” he said, holding out one of the bottles. “You should drink before we go.”
“So I hopefully won’t be so distracted?” I said, taking the bottle off him.
He took a seat. “Shut up and drink.”
I unscrewed the cap and quickly knocked back the mixture before I had a chance to react to the sweet, bitter scent.
“How are you feeling?”
“Peachy.” I swallowed quickly as the taste clung to the roof of my mouth.
“Are you in any pain?”
I shook my head. “I’m okay. I swear. Pain has pretty much gone. All wounds are healed—enough,” I said, double-checking my most recent scars. “I’m feeling as good as I usually do. What about you?”
I screwed the lid back on the bottle and handed it to him in exchange for the second one.
His grin curled. “I’m great.”
He looked it; emerald sparkled in his eyes, which no longer looked weighed down by exhaustion.
“Good.” I unscrewed the second bottle and drank.
“Carter wants me to stick with you tonight.”
I nodded, bottle still pressed to my lips.
“You all right with that?”
I coughed back a laugh. “Better a Wolf I know than one I don’t.”
“Really?” He smiled as I nodded. “You know what that means, then?”
Yeah. It meant I might actually trust him, a little.
“It means that is the second compliment you have had today. I must be feeling generous.” I screwed the top on the empty bottle, then placed it on the bedside table.
“What are you going to do after we destroy the facility?” he asked as I hopped off the bed.
“I will come back here, thank Eve for her clothing, retrieve my own, rest, if Carter is all right with that, and then tomorrow find a way to get home.”
“Then what?”
“What do you mean, then what?” I sat at the foot of the bed and pulled on my boots.
“What did Luca tell you?”
Ah, we never got to that discussion.
“He told me where his Mistress is currently residing.”
“Which would be?”
“What does it matter t’you?” I stood and walked into the bathroom.
“It doesn’t. I’m just curious.”
“Curiosity gets people into trouble, remember?”
“Do you plan on going to find her by yourself, or with the remainder of your family?”
I ran my fingers through my curls. “I want to keep my family out of it.”
“So you are going on your own. Is that wise?”
“I’m not a wise type of person.”
If I survived long enough to end this, they would be safe. Danielle could have a normal life. A family. She could have children without ongoing fear for their lives. They could just live.
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