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“That’s putting it fucking mildly,” he agreed. “It was a fucking plague—one no one had a fucking chance of fighting. I tried to stay out of it. I hunkered down and just kept me and mine fucking safe until I couldn’t.”
He faltered, his hands pausing. I could take a million and one guesses of what that meant, but I knew he’d never tell me. Some secrets just haunted us forever.
“I had magic.” Lane cleared his throat. “I’d had magic for a long fucking time before this shit happened, so I created the hunters. A breed of—”
“We know what they are,” Nolan interrupted. “You created them?”
“You believe in the fucking Guardian of Wolves, but you don’t believe that I created the hunters?” Lane shot him a look, and Nolan blushed.
“How do you know that?”
“I make it my business to know things,” he replied. “Experimenting with magic is my fucking thing. It’s why I could separate Killian from his wolf. Augmenting existing breeds is my fucking specialty.”
“Augmenting?” Declan repeated. “As in you experiment on paranormal creatures.”
“Sure. Call it what you fucking want. I only care about the end result.”
“And my brother let you experiment on him?”
“It was his fucking idea,” Lane said. He tied off the second round of stitches and set aside the supplies. “I’m still working the kinks out of it.”
“I don’t believe you.” Declan stopped pacing to stare. “And I don’t believe that he’d be friends with you. A hunter. Not after he…”
“Not after he killed the hunter in Boston?” he finished. A wicked grin turned his lips, and I shuddered. There was something horrifically dark about Lane—something he didn’t bother hiding. “Who do you fucking think sent him to Boston in the first place? I’ve been exterminating my own kind for decades, but I can’t do it myself. But my team? They can do whatever the hell they want. Killian has scraped the fucking surface of what I’m willing to do to stop our world from bleeding into the human world.”
“So… you’re a good guy,” Nolan said, making Lane laugh—the sound harsh.
“Boy, when I show up, the fucking devil himself hides,” Lane replied. He unrolled his bloodied sleeves and worked on unbuttoning his shirt. “But I’m fucking honest about what I am. I don’t play fucking games. And if I’m going to kill you, I’ll make sure you fucking know why. That makes the difference.”
“That’s not reassuring,” Declan muttered. I had to agree.
“Do you know why I respect Killian?” he asked. I shrugged. I wasn’t sure I knew anything anymore when it came to my husband. “Every fighter has a point of no return. It’s a line drawn in the fucking sand—one they carefully track. It’s the point where they stop. They give up. They turn back, regroup, and try again no matter what the fucking cost is. No matter how many lives are lost. Killian doesn’t have one. He never gives up where protecting others are concerned, no matter what it costs him. Even if it costs him his life. You can’t train that. You can’t mold that. It’s raw instinct.”
My heart ached at those words. Was that really a strength?
“I have a six-person team,” he continued. His head ducked slightly to catch my gaze. “I have six people who work for me—ones I’ve ripped out of time who are truly impervious to death—and none of them have the spirit your husband does. You should be proud of him.”
“I don’t know if it’s pride I feel knowing my husband would die so easily,” I told him honestly. Not considering everything I knew about his struggles with suicide.
“Not many would give as much as he gives for others,” Lane murmured. “That’s something to be damn proud of.”
I made a sound but said nothing else. We’d never agree on it. I’d rather be a selfish woman with her husband at home with her than a widow of a man lost saving someone. Why couldn’t someone else chase down the violent paranormal creatures and nearly die doing so?
I studied Killian’s profile, taking in all the tiny details I loved about him all over again, and sighed. I knew why it couldn’t be someone else. Because Killian cared with his whole damn heart about everyone, even when he tried to pretend he didn’t. It was just who he was. He’d give the last breath in his body if that was what it’d take.
I didn’t have to love it, but I would support him because I loved him.
“And you’re sure she’s okay?” Declan asked Sam a second time on the phone. He sighed from his spot on the couch. It’d been hours of hiding out in our house as we waited for Killian to wake up. Admittedly, after reuniting with his wolf, he was healing like Lane said he would. It wasn’t fast enough in my opinion, but it was better than nothing. Declan chuckled. “Yeah, well, tell her I’ll be back soon, and I’ll try to get Killian to come back with me. Nolan too.”
“I’m staying if they stay,” Nolan interjected quickly.
“Just keep me updated, okay?” Declan ignored him, pausing to listen to Sam before hanging up.
“Is Maeve okay?” I said when he did.
“Yeah.” He sighed and ran his hands over his face. “She’s livid as fuck, but she’s doing just fine. The barrier line has been quiet.”
“Good,” Lane replied. He waltzed into the room like he owned the place—shirtless and in a pair of Killian’s pants. At the look on my face, he said, “Mine were bloody. It was these or a pair of your leggings.”
