Riot knelt there and watched with the full, clear, unflinching knowledge that this was murder, he was a liar, and Cass would never know. The not-knowing was the last gift Riot could give Brother Matthias’s victim, and he was giving it with hands that were steady and a heart that was broken in a place that would never fully heal.
Matthias’s face darkened. Red, then deeper. His eyes were wide and wet and locked on Riot’s and the calculation was finally gone, replaced by the animal understanding that comes at the end—that this was happening. It was not going to stop and nobody was coming.
“Cass told me,” Riot said softly as Matthias’s eyes rolled up into his head, “that in your territory, people with disabilities areconsidered spiritually deficient.” He stood up. “I hope that if your people find you before you die, you spend whatever time you have left in a chair you can’t get out of. And then you can meditate on fixing it.”
He wiped his hands on his pants, turned, and walked back to the road.
He caught up with them in four minutes.
“Everything okay?” Cass asked, stumbling as he glanced behind him to give Riot a weak smile. Both Honey and Sage caught him to steady him.
“Yep,” Riot said. “I put the gag back in. He’s fine.”
He met Sage’s eyes for a moment as she scanned his hands and whatever was in his expression that was different from what had been there before.
She gave him a single nod.
“Can you carry me?” Cass stopped abruptly. “Honey’s nice…but you smell better. I’m sleepy.”
Riot knelt down and Cass practically collapsed into his arms, his head finding the place under Riot’s chin that it always found. “Okay, princess. I’ve got you.”
And as Riot stood and they walked in silence, he tried not to think about the words.
I put the gag back in. He’s fine.
Eight words would shape every morning after this one. They were the price of the garden, of the tomatoes, of the life they were going to build together, because Riot was going to build it, brick by brick. The foundation would have a lie in it, and the lie would hold because Riot would make it hold, so Cass could plant things on top of it and they would grow.
Chapter forty-seven
Prairie Null Lights
Cass
Hisarmswerefightingsomething warm and solid that held him still, and the fear was everywhere—in his chest, his legs, and his hands—and he didn’t know what he was afraid of, but his body knew and his body was fighting.
“Cass. Hey. Princess. You’re okay.” Riot’s voice cut through the fear not by being loud, but by being the right voice. Cass’s arms stopped pushing. His eyes opened to too much light and not enough sense, and for a few seconds, everything was just shapeswith the feeling of being held. He was in Riot’s lap, which was a lot of lap, curled sideways across the Berserker with his legs bent and his bad arm cradled between their bodies.
“Did I hit you?” Cass asked. His mouth tasted terrible, like he’d been sleeping with it open for a long time, and his head felt like someone had filled it with wet sand.
“Not really.” Riot brushed Cass’s hair back from his forehead.
“‘Not really’ doesn’t mean no—”
“You hit the window. And my chin, a little. And the window again.” Riot grinned. “You’ve got a decent left hook for an Omega.”
“I hit you in thechin?“ Cass tried to jolt up, but Riot’s hand pressed gently on his chest. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—are you hurt? Let me see—”
“Cass.” Riot pressed a little harder. “I’m a Berserker. Your fist is the size of a tangerine. I promise you I’m fine.”
“But I—”
“You’re forgiven. For the devastating tangerine assault. I may never recover.”
Cass’s eyes kept adjusting. The soft edges of the world sharpened and the light outside the windows was the orange-pink of evening. Sage was driving, her hands on the wheel, and she didn’t turn her head, but Cass saw her hands tighten on the wheel when she heard him talking. Honey sat in the passenger seat, half-turned around, looking at him over the headrest in a way that made him want to cry, but he wasn’t sure why. She had the kind of sadness he sometimes saw in the mirror—the kind that had moved in and wasn’t going to leave just because someone asked it to.
“We’re all in the same car?” Cass asked, because the question was simpler than asking about the look on Honey’s face.
“Riot was being an idiot,” Sage said.
