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My airway closed off, and I was glad he was holding me so I didn't have to look him in the eye. "I saw him—I saw him take—"
"Take what?" he asked gently, tendrils of his magic caressing me until I wanted to drop to my knees and beg his forgiveness.
"Your wings," I whispered, choked. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have seen—"
"How?" he asked, his voice deep and gruff.
I choked back a rush of tears, letting go of him and stepping back. My eyes burned harder when his shadows clung to me, refusing to let go.
"When I was in the darkness with Erebus, he kept showing me things that would make me come back, kept nagging me to remember, to fight when I wanted to just give up. He told me about Cronus and the beginning of the universe, then the creation of the Earth, the rise of the titans, the fall of the gods. Whenever he mentioned Cronus, I got so angry. Rage took over, until one time he mentioned what that monster did to you and—I'm so sorry."
Wane grabbed his empty glass from the windowsill and screwed off the cap of the whiskey bottle, pouring an amount I was pretty sure was three shots worth. He downed half of it in a second and didn't even cough.
"I never wanted you to know any of it," he said roughly, the glass shaking in his hand. "Not a single thing that happened to me."
I gritted my teeth, like a damn holding back a flood. "I know."
"But you saw—?" When I nodded, his eyes slammed shut, devastation crossing his face. "Which parts? Tell me."
"I saw … I saw someone cut your wings from your back."
"Andryas Revairs," Wane spat, his face twisted. He looked like he wanted to spit the taste of the name from his mouth. "My jailor. Cronus's previous pet, and current slave."
My bottom lip shook even with my teeth clenched. Fuck.
"That was all you saw?" he asked, an intensity shining through his molten silver eyes when he looked at me. I met his eyes for a second and then glanced away, so guilty I was going to throw up. "Nothing else?"
"Just … them being cut. And—Cronus hung them on the wall. That's all I saw."
He exhaled a breath, and panic made my entire body freeze in place. I saw someone hack his wings off his back, saw him scream and howl and cry—and he was relieved that was all I'd seen. What else? What else had been done to him?
Kai was right. We needed revenge. Cronus needed to suffer for an eternity.
My heart beat faster, terror and guilt overruled by pure, burning rage. Wane sucked in a breath when my curse marks began to glow. They were both broken, the first by Oren's tattoo and the second by my god-killers, but the magic was every bit as potent as before. It responded to my fury, glowing brighter, casting red across the drinks cabinet, the window, and over the sofas and chairs until everything was stained crimson.
"What else?" I asked, my voice low and resonant. "What else did he do, Wane? What are you scared I'll see?"
He shook his head and threw back the rest of the whiskey in his glass. "Nothing."
"Don't lie. Please."
He glanced at the ceiling, fighting an emotion I couldn't place. "I can't tell you. Haley, please."
Magic crashed back into my body, and I jolted at the raw plea in his voice. He was begging me. Fuck. All my rage fled, leaving oily guilt and fear coursing through me.
"It's okay." I shook my head. "Of course you can't, it's okay. I'm so sorry. It's just—the thought of what could have been done to you makes me want to burn the whole world down."
I took a slow breath when Wane stayed silent, composing myself, trying to be strong for both of us. All of us.
When he was triggered before, sparring had helped him recover, but I knew it was more about him being in control of his actions that had made the difference.
So I swallowed and said, "Stay here. I'll be back in a second," and rushed from the room, racing down the hall and up the stairs to the training room. It was full of weapons Wynvail had stocked, but also my own. I grabbed one I'd procured in Iarlon1 and curled my fingers around the hilt—a spiral of smooth metal, topped with a long, wicked blade.
"Here," I panted, sprinting back into the living room and surprised Kai hadn't burst into the room yet. We had to be nearing five minutes and there was no way my psycho mate wasn't timing me to the second.
"A knife," Wane murmured when I flipped it in my hand and held out the hilt. His scarred fingers wrapped around it, my name stark against his skin, and I swallowed back a thousand different words.
"You know I'll kill anyone who's ever hurt you," I panted, seriously out of breath. I blamed it on dying.2 "But if I can't be at your side and you feel unsafe, or you can't ask for help or speak about what's torturing you—I want you to keep this on you always. I'll find a sheath that fits you. It's a promise, Wane. You're safe, and I'll always protect you—but you can use the knife to stab your enemies in the throat yourself. You're a badass, too. Just in case you've forgotten."
