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“You don’t!” she yelled back at him. “You’re going to get yourself killed!”
“I’m not fucking arguing this with you,” he snarled. “Get your asses back in the house. All of you! It’s not fucking safe out here!”
“You can’t—” Grabbing a fistful of my sweater, Killian dragged me against him, his mouth claiming mine roughly. The drag of his teeth, the demand of his tongue, the smell of vanilla. It all overwhelmed me.
And as quickly as it started, he pulled away.
“I love you,” he whispered. “Don’t you ever forget that.”
What did that mean?
“Killian.” My eyes widened. I reached for him, but he stepped away. “Please, Killian!”
But he was gone, moving beyond the barrier.
“Killian!” I yelled after him, desperate for him to hear me.
Chapter 112
Killian
Ilove you,” I whispered. I willed the words to stick with her because fuck if I knew if I’d ever have the chance to say them to her again. “Don’t you ever forget that.”
“Killian.” Those gorgeous golden eyes widened, and she reached for me. I stepped out of her range. If she touched me—if she got her hands on me—I’d never be able to leave. I’d never be able to fucking do what I had to. Between that terrified expression on her face and the rage in Mom’s, I was one weak moment away from giving in to them. If I did, there was a good chance someone would die. “Please, Killian.”
I backed over the barrier line, feeling the magic phase through me.
“Are you done being a sentimental fuck?” Lane demanded. Magic swirled through his fingers as his magic continued to funnel into the barrier splitting the road. I glanced at Mom’s flipped car, and my stomach clenched painfully. Sure, she’d fucking walked away, but what if she hadn’t? It could’ve ended so horribly.
I stood next to Lane, gaze sliding over the barrier he’d created. His magic would only keep out so much. Human weapons? Yes. Hunter magic? Not a chance in hell.
We were on borrowed time as bullets occasionally pinged off the dark wall and dropped to the asphalt. And I didn’t have my fucking weapons. Well, I had my hunting knife, but that was it.
Fuck it. I was about to raid the fuck out of Lane for weapons.
“Tell me you have fucking weapons on you.” Without asking, I started patting him down.
“I have a fucking can opener on my key ring,” Lane replied. Like that’d do me any good. “Are you done feeling me up, wolf boy? What the fuck’s your plan, Killian?”
I didn’t have a fucking plan. That was the fucking problem. I hadn’t planned for the hunter to open fire on us as we left the house. I hadn’t planned on her figuring out where the pack house was at all.
But my pack was pinned down. If she figured her way through the fucking barrier, no one was safe.
And she’d almost killed my mom.
That shit was unforgivable.
I racked my brain for a plan—even a half-assed plan. Just something I could do to stop the fucking chaos. Whatever little blip of hope I could cling to that would keep my fucking family safe.
“Can you set shit on fire?” I asked. I gripped the handle of my knife for comfort. It was the only fucking thing I had. “Set a magical fucking bomb off right near her?”
“You’re just as likely to get yourself killed as you are to kill her if I set the forest on fire,” he pointed out.
“But she’s not expecting it either,” I said. He hummed but said nothing. “Whoever wants to leave, you make sure they get the fuck out of here. You understand? Your magic can keep them safe while I deal with her.”
“For the record, I don’t like this plan,” Lane replied. “I understand the fucking plan. Hell, I’d do the same goddamn thing, but I can’t die. You can.”
“I know,” I muttered. That fact was very fucking real. “You keep my family safe, okay? Make sure Genevieve is safe. No matter what.”
