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I shook my head at him, frowning. I didn’t much like this—the way he sounded like he thought he knew me. “Look, it’s not that I’m ungrateful for the backup or anything, but—”

“Who am I and what am I doing here?”

I snorted. “I mean, I was going to be a little more delicate about it, but yeah.”

“My name is Bryan Peterson,” he said. “I’m one of Thierry’s friends—like I said earlier, we’re kind of like family, of sorts.” He paused. “When it comes to that, I guess you could say that Tobias and I are sort of drop-in, drop-out, since we’re gone a lot. But we’ve got Thierry’s back and he’s got ours. Same with Danny and Michael. Even Rico.”

“Okay…” I said, confused by all the names he was dropping. I’d met most of them, but only in passing.

“Right. What are we doing here, though? Why would Thierry ask us to come?” He paused and his expression darkened. “Look, a couple of years ago, I went through something really similar to what you did.”

“You helped an evil ancient vampire murder an entire town?” I asked sarcastically, my defenses shooting up immediately. “Gee, we ought to start a support group.”

He snorted, totally unfazed. “I almost started a war between the witches and vampires of Seattle, actually. If it had worked, it would’ve killed a ton of people. Like, a lot.”

“Uh—”

“I was mind-controlled into doing it by a powerful warlock. He’s gone now, the same way your maker is gone. But I still remember everything he made me do when I was under his power. It felt like it was me doing it, even if it wasn’t.” Bryan grimaced and shook his head. “I… wasn’t okay for a long time.”

“That sounds—”

But then I broke off, not sure I knew how to finish that sentence. Tragic? Awful? Completely messed up? Horrifying? Any of those would have made sense, but none of them were bad enough to work.

“Yeah. It was.” He paused. “My point is that I know what it’s like. To have been under someone else’s control, to know that rationally, and to still feel like it was you who did awful things.”

“Is this a vampire intervention?”

He tilted his head to the side, considering me. “Does it need to be? Thierry told me you haven’t left the dungeons in months, even though you ought to be safe around people by now.”

I froze immediately, as if he’d slapped me across the face. Suddenly, I hated that knowing look in his eyes. The gentleness with which he was speaking, as if I had to be handled with kid gloves or else I’d go ballistic.

“Fuck you,” I snarled, shooting to my feet. “You have no idea what you’re talking about!”

He hardly reacted. “I was angry and defensive, too, Quinn. And between the dungeons and the coven stronghold, I spent a really long time keeping myself away from ordinary people, just like you’re doing. I was afraid I might hurt them. That, deep down, I wanted to.” He paused, his gaze searching mine. “It’s okay. You can talk to me. Seriously.”

“I don’t need a vampire therapist.”

He smiled at that and stood. “Good thing I’m not one, then.”

“How can you stand to be around people?” I demanded, staring at him. “How can you stand any of this?”

“I’m more than what was done to me. Tobias and I, we heal people now. I don’t want to be the thing Giles made me into. So I chose not to be.”

Then, as I watched, feeling suddenly exposed and unhappy, he fished something out of his back pocket—a piece of paper—and handed it to me over the table. There was a number scrawled on it in black Sharpie. When I took it, he added, “I’m just a friend, if you ever need one. Call me if you want to talk. I’ll listen.”

I stared down at his number numbly for a long moment. My hands were trembling, even though it wasn’t really cold outside.

When I looked back up at him, Bryan was watching me intently. “You’re going to get through this, Quinn. There’s life after what you went through. I promise. And it’s actually a pretty good one. Or it could be.”

Tears stung in my eyes, sudden and sharp. I blinked them away furiously, but the lump in my throat choked off all my words, making it impossible to speak.

Bryan, the bastard, seemed to understand exactly. Because he gave me another gentle smile. “Let’s go back inside. If Tobias and I don’t intervene, with Thierry at the helm, whatever plan they’re coming up with will probably involve all of us fighting the mafia in gold sequined pants or something.”

Nodding, I followed him. I wasn’t sure how I felt—angry, upset, called out, exposed. All of that, definitely. But also, maybe it would be nice to have a friend. A real friend, who’d known everything I’d done and who could understand exactly what I felt.

I pocketed Bryan’s number. But I wasn’t entirely sure if I’d ever call it.

CHAPTER EIGHT || DEREK