“I’m not ready, Faythe.” My mother looked up that time, and great beads of moisture clung to her bare lashes and cheeks. “I need…a little more…time.”
“Okay.” The only real difference between my mother’s mourning process and mine was that I had something important to distract me from the cold chasm growing within me with each glance at his grave, and she did not. I would lose myself in plans for the invasion of the Appalachian territory. I would focus on the burn of bloodlust in my veins rather than the agony of loss. I would pour every last drop of my pain and rage into the details, and the resulting carnage would be my father’s true memorial, infinitely more heartfelt than the headstone still on order.
Shovel in hand, Marc shot me a look of sympathy that melted into concern when he saw my face. Was it that obvious?
He stabbed his shovel into the soil hard enough to make it stand up on its own. I flinched at the raw thunk, then ground my teeth in irritation over my own squeamishness. That would have to go. If it wouldn’t help us beat Malone, it had no business in my head until he’d joined my father in the ground.
I took off my coat and draped it over my mother’s shoulders, on top of her own, as Marc veered toward me from the side of the grave. I met him several feet away from my mom.
“You okay?” He brushed his palms together and grave dirt fell from them. The tiny clumps hit the ground and seemed to echo within my head, much louder than should have been impossible.
“I’m fine. I just need to go iron out the last few details. I have to verify the time and the number of men my uncle’s bringing, then I need to leave for the airport.” I was taking Vic with me to recruit the thunderbirds, because I couldn’t justify taking both Marc and Jace away from the Pride when it was most in need of protection, but I couldn’t choose between them.
“Maybe you should take a couple of hours off. Try to relax. Help your mom.”
I shook my head slowly, trying not to stare at the ground and remember that my father was now in it. “She wants to be alone, and I don’t want to relax. I want to stay pissed off, so I can finish putting this thing together with a clear head.”
His frown deepened and he crossed dirty arms over the front of his dress shirt. “Anger gives you a clear head?”
I nodded. “It gives me clarity like twisting the focus knobs on a microscope.”
Marc blinked, and for an instant, I read confusion in his eyes. Or maybe something darker. The hair rose on the back of my neck, though I couldn’t have said precisely why.
“I take it that doesn’t work for you?”
He shook his head. “Anger makes me see red, and I lose all perspective. You may recall past fits of irrationality, followed by an excess of broken stuff.”
“Yeah.” I frowned up at him. “That’s kind of what we’re going for, with Malone and Dean.” And anyone who gets in the way.
“I know. Just…try to take it easy, okay?” He glanced over one shoulder and I looked up to find Jace watching us, while Parker and Vic still dug.
“There will be time to take it easy when Malone and Dean are dead.”
Marc exhaled heavily. “Let’s hope.”
I glanced past him to the fresh, unfinished grave, and my throat suddenly felt thicker. “Thanks for…doing that.”
He followed my line of sight. “It’s the very least that we owe him. Seriously.”
“I know.” I couldn’t even begin to quantify what I owed my father. My independence. The ability to defend myself. The certainty that doing the right thing was always worth it, no matter what it cost. “Come see me when you get in?”
He nodded. “Of course.” Then he went back to the most hateful hole I’d ever seen, and I headed for the main house, with one more look at my mother.
Halfway there, I heard footsteps and had to drag my gaze from the ground and my thoughts out of my own head to identify the form walking toward me.
Ryan.
He hesitated when he saw me coming, then started walking again, like he could prove his backbone by simply not running away. But it was far too late for that. He had no backbone left, and no Pride. Ryan walked in deep shadows of shame these days, and he only walked at all because in the end he’d given us the information we’d needed to capture two of his partners. Not out of the goodness of his heart, but to save his own rotten hide.
I stopped and crossed my arms over my chest, trying to look tough rather than simply cold while I waited for him. He stopped four feet away, his nose still swollen and purple. “I’m not looking for trouble, Faythe. I just came to pay my respects.”
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Ryan scowled. “Faythe, lay off. I’m here for Mom.” He tried to step around me, but I grabbed his arm and hauled him back.
“She called you, didn’t she? And she called when Ethan died?”
He glanced at the ground when he spoke, and I knew nothing had changed. “Do you really want to talk about this now?” Ryan gestured over my shoulder at our mother, but I didn’t turn to look at her. I couldn’t, because an old question was now hammering on my nerves with all-new certainty and dread.
“She let you out, didn’t she? Mom let you out of the cage….”
“Faythe, I can’t do this right now.”
I spoke through gritted teeth, my hands clenched around handfuls of my long black skirt. “Ryan, I swear on our father’s unfinished grave that I will break every fucking bone in your face if you don’t answer me right now. The council is going to start asking questions about you soon, and I’m the one who’s going to have to answer them. Malone and his allies will kick her while she’s down just to get to me, and I’m going to have to protect Mom.”
“Okay.” The only real difference between my mother’s mourning process and mine was that I had something important to distract me from the cold chasm growing within me with each glance at his grave, and she did not. I would lose myself in plans for the invasion of the Appalachian territory. I would focus on the burn of bloodlust in my veins rather than the agony of loss. I would pour every last drop of my pain and rage into the details, and the resulting carnage would be my father’s true memorial, infinitely more heartfelt than the headstone still on order.
Shovel in hand, Marc shot me a look of sympathy that melted into concern when he saw my face. Was it that obvious?
He stabbed his shovel into the soil hard enough to make it stand up on its own. I flinched at the raw thunk, then ground my teeth in irritation over my own squeamishness. That would have to go. If it wouldn’t help us beat Malone, it had no business in my head until he’d joined my father in the ground.
I took off my coat and draped it over my mother’s shoulders, on top of her own, as Marc veered toward me from the side of the grave. I met him several feet away from my mom.
“You okay?” He brushed his palms together and grave dirt fell from them. The tiny clumps hit the ground and seemed to echo within my head, much louder than should have been impossible.
“I’m fine. I just need to go iron out the last few details. I have to verify the time and the number of men my uncle’s bringing, then I need to leave for the airport.” I was taking Vic with me to recruit the thunderbirds, because I couldn’t justify taking both Marc and Jace away from the Pride when it was most in need of protection, but I couldn’t choose between them.
“Maybe you should take a couple of hours off. Try to relax. Help your mom.”
I shook my head slowly, trying not to stare at the ground and remember that my father was now in it. “She wants to be alone, and I don’t want to relax. I want to stay pissed off, so I can finish putting this thing together with a clear head.”
His frown deepened and he crossed dirty arms over the front of his dress shirt. “Anger gives you a clear head?”
I nodded. “It gives me clarity like twisting the focus knobs on a microscope.”
Marc blinked, and for an instant, I read confusion in his eyes. Or maybe something darker. The hair rose on the back of my neck, though I couldn’t have said precisely why.
“I take it that doesn’t work for you?”
He shook his head. “Anger makes me see red, and I lose all perspective. You may recall past fits of irrationality, followed by an excess of broken stuff.”
“Yeah.” I frowned up at him. “That’s kind of what we’re going for, with Malone and Dean.” And anyone who gets in the way.
“I know. Just…try to take it easy, okay?” He glanced over one shoulder and I looked up to find Jace watching us, while Parker and Vic still dug.
“There will be time to take it easy when Malone and Dean are dead.”
Marc exhaled heavily. “Let’s hope.”
I glanced past him to the fresh, unfinished grave, and my throat suddenly felt thicker. “Thanks for…doing that.”
He followed my line of sight. “It’s the very least that we owe him. Seriously.”
“I know.” I couldn’t even begin to quantify what I owed my father. My independence. The ability to defend myself. The certainty that doing the right thing was always worth it, no matter what it cost. “Come see me when you get in?”
He nodded. “Of course.” Then he went back to the most hateful hole I’d ever seen, and I headed for the main house, with one more look at my mother.
Halfway there, I heard footsteps and had to drag my gaze from the ground and my thoughts out of my own head to identify the form walking toward me.
Ryan.
He hesitated when he saw me coming, then started walking again, like he could prove his backbone by simply not running away. But it was far too late for that. He had no backbone left, and no Pride. Ryan walked in deep shadows of shame these days, and he only walked at all because in the end he’d given us the information we’d needed to capture two of his partners. Not out of the goodness of his heart, but to save his own rotten hide.
I stopped and crossed my arms over my chest, trying to look tough rather than simply cold while I waited for him. He stopped four feet away, his nose still swollen and purple. “I’m not looking for trouble, Faythe. I just came to pay my respects.”
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Ryan scowled. “Faythe, lay off. I’m here for Mom.” He tried to step around me, but I grabbed his arm and hauled him back.
“She called you, didn’t she? And she called when Ethan died?”
He glanced at the ground when he spoke, and I knew nothing had changed. “Do you really want to talk about this now?” Ryan gestured over my shoulder at our mother, but I didn’t turn to look at her. I couldn’t, because an old question was now hammering on my nerves with all-new certainty and dread.
“She let you out, didn’t she? Mom let you out of the cage….”
“Faythe, I can’t do this right now.”
I spoke through gritted teeth, my hands clenched around handfuls of my long black skirt. “Ryan, I swear on our father’s unfinished grave that I will break every fucking bone in your face if you don’t answer me right now. The council is going to start asking questions about you soon, and I’m the one who’s going to have to answer them. Malone and his allies will kick her while she’s down just to get to me, and I’m going to have to protect Mom.”
