Page 98 of The Werewolf’s Wrong Mate

“My pulse has developed a reasonable objection to every conversation in this building.”

“You still have to breathe through it.”

I did, mostly because she looked prepared to make breathing more unpleasant if I refused.

Ronan closed the map. “You need to identify the gate from the grounds.”

“I just did.”

“You identified a point on a map. I want the actual route.”

“Why?”

“Because memory changes in the body. Because if you see it again, you may remember something useful. Because Brenner’s trail starts there, and if I ask Ian to follow it while you are still reacting to his absence, I need to know what your body can tolerate, and he is more likely not to argue if you are close.”

There it was. The practical cruelty. Ronan didn’t speak to comfort, he spoke to reduce variables.

I looked at Ian, his face told me nothing, but the pressure under my ribs did. He didn’t want me near the gate or the hedge. He didn’t want me where he had first scented me, first lost the fight with his wolf, first put his teeth into my shoulder.

But he also wanted answers. Not for Ronan, though. For me.

Now that was inconvenient.

“Fine,” I said.

Ian’s gaze sharpened.

“I said fine, not carry me over your shoulder like luggage from a gothic gym.”

“I was not planning to.”

“Your shoulders looked undecided.”

For one second, he almost smiled.

Almost.

Then he looked at Sava. “How far can she walk?”

“She cannot walk the full distance. Chair to the service lift. Chair to the gate. Standing only when needed.”

“Then I push the chair.” Ian didn’t wait for Ronan’s objection, or mine for that matter. “If the mark flares, I know before the monitor does. If anyone comes too close, I know before the guards do. If she gets frightened, I know before any of you decide it is inconvenient.”

The last word hit the room and my body warmed for reasons that had nothing to do with poison. Ronan and Sava both saw it and for a moment I hated them both a little for having eyes.

Ronan’s voice stayed flat. “You push the chair. You do not leave her unless I order it.”

Ian’s face went still. “If you order it?”

“Then there is something more dangerous than distance.”

The two brothers looked at each other and I understood then that this was not a walk. This was the beginning of the investigation. And I was going because I was the only human mistake who could point at the right door.

Sava helped me into black pants, a loose sweater that didn’t touch the bandage, and shoes soft enough that I suspected they cost more than my luggage. Ian turned his back while I dressed. Ronan stepped into the hall. Lucien pretended to study the map with religious commitment.

Small mercies in werewolf prison were apparently still mercies.

When I was settled into the wheelchair, Ian came around to face me before touching the handles.