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“We?” Freya asked softly, dipping her chin in deference as he entered. A respect I hadn’t missed but didn’t fully grasp.
“Alvara and I have discussed the plight of mortality on more than one occasion. But really, it always boiled down to this: so long as they don’t want our help—so long as they relish their own self-destructive ideology—they’re bound to crumble and begin again either way.”
“Do you believe Adrastos meant what he told Alvara about serving August? Or was it another one of his manipulations?”
My father just shook his head. “There’s only one man alive who can answer that question for you.” He leaned against the wall, staring up at the chaos pinned every which way. Chaos only she could likely fully grasp. “The twin flame tear would leave scars, though.”
“Physical? Like past life scars that come through as birthmarks?”
“No.” He shook his head. “More like evidence of magic bonds—shared names, shared coloring. I’ve only met your brother the once, but… he is her mirror.”
Freya’s eyes went distant for a long minute. When she finally lifted them to me, it was as though she moved through molasses.
“I think it’s time we pay a visit to my brother.”
FORTY-THREE
OLD HABITS
CYRUS
August 3rd, 9:37 AM
Blaz, Montague, and Tessa were waiting for us when we got to the bunker.
Tessa immediately stepped between me and Freya, the two of them elbow-to-elbow as we descended the hallway. “What’d you find?”
“One potential answer—three dozen subsequent questions,” Freya said.
Blaz gave an amused snort. “Accurate.”
“Remember when we could just relax? Go to the beach on a Sunday?” Tessa quipped wistfully. When Freya just side-eyed her, she snickered, “Yeah, me either.”
“Someday.”
“Maybe. If we get through this.”
Freya hip-checked her, sending her sideways as she burst out laughing. Blaz was quick to snag Tessa’s elbow, steadying her.
The wink she threw him as she nonchalantly said, “What? I’m just kidding.” had me arching a skeptical brow at my cousin.
“No kidding,” Freya complained. “No jokes. No speaking into existence a world where I have no true friends—thank you very much.”
“I resent that,” Blaz muttered right as Carr grumbled, “What the fuck am I? Chopped goddamn liver?”
The conversation buzzed along, but I couldn’t hear them. Couldn’t fully process what she’d just said as I focused on putting one foot in front of the other. I’d done that. I’d isolated her to the point where she felt Tessa was her one friend. Or my mother had.
As I dragged my eyes from the concrete floor to the women ahead of us, something in my chest went heavy—like someone had planted a boot on it.
Historically speaking, the Wraith worked alone.
But…
The first stories dated all the way back to a petty queen and king in Ireland. A queen who was murdered, and a king she served even as their territory crumbled. Freya said Reagan had betrayed her people in past lives too, and I wondered how much blood stained that soul in the after. If she wasn’t the very reason the Wraith had never built much in the way of alliances, instead slinking from job to job alone. Not even Aren could keep her under thumb.
I watched Tessa toss her braids over a shoulder, eyes sparking with mischief at whatever Freya was deadpanning about, then glanced at Carr.
Carr, who had my back through everything—who chose me over his own brother when the balance demanded it. The man who’d placed himself beside my mate these past months when I couldn’t confront any of this shit.
