Whatever we’d had, whatever bond we had forged, whatever memories we’d shared, however much of the person I’d become that I could trace back to him—he’d killed it, as dead as Jed and Chase.
“Bryn.” That was all he said, just my name. Everything else went unspoken, evident only in his tone. From the day he’d found me until now—every interaction, every time he’d dried my tears, the times he’d been the one to make me cry. I’d loved him, and I’d hated him, and it had all been leading up to a single moment in time.
Now.
“You made me a promise once,” I said, my tone as flat as his was brimming with everything that had passed between us in the past thirteen years. “I’ve come to collect.”
He didn’t push me. He didn’t reach out to touch me. His eyes locked onto mine, a perfect match for the tone in his voice.
“You’re certain?”
I stood, faced him, held my arms out to my side.
“Go ahead,” I said. “Kill me.”
Kill whatever humanity I had left.
He turned his back on me and began Shifting. I heard each snap of bone, as flesh rendered itself into something new. I thought of my parents, the scars on Caroline’s arm, Lucas trying to rip out my throat.
I thought of the chunk the Shadow had taken out of my flesh. I thought of a thousand cuts on my body, needles digging into flesh, the smell and taste and feel of blood.
Callum turned back around. On four legs, he padded toward me. His eyes met mine. I nodded.
He leapt.
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