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Chapter Thirty-Three
“You.”
Zee felt a rage unlike anything she’d ever known tear through her as she stared at the face of Brandon, the boy who’d almost been a man when he wrapped his hands around her throat and tried to choke the life out of her.
“It’s you.”
His scent taunted her now. That was the scent she’d picked up on in the woods, but in the tangle of blood, panic and the whispered threat of death, she hadn’t been able to isolate it. It had changed, too.
He was a man now, fully grown. No longer the youth he’d been, charged with a malicious glee in hurting those who were smaller, younger... easier to break, now he was a man. And he looked... weak.
His fear turned his stink rancid as his gaze darted from her to Saint and back. He managed not to let it show on his face, but he couldn’t keep it from bleeding through his pores and he knew they were aware.
Reacting like the cornered animal he was, he spread out his hand and let his claws emerge.
“Come any closer and Shale dies,” Brandon said softly.
“No.” Zee smiled slowly. “You won’t do that. Do you want to know how I know?”
Brandon’s lids flickered as he bounced a look from Saint back to her, clearly trying to decide who was the bigger threat.
“Right now, you think we’re the biggest dangers you have to deal with. But if you kill Shale, one of the Appalachian Prime’s closest friends—and a lieutenant—while he’s unconscious and wounded, you’ll be hunted like the mangy dog you are by every Therian who hears about you. Your face will be plastered across the airwaves, the internet, on every commercial break in the evening, during the morning news. Humans will report sightings out of fear you’ve gone rogue. Atargarians will report you if you dare near their waters—or just kill you on principle. If you kill Shale, you’ll be dead in a few days, if not hours. And considering how violently Niko protects his own, it’s entirely possible you won’t see another sunset.” Savage pleasure pulsed inside her blood as the stink of his fear thickened. It called to the wolf within her and she had to battle that wild beast down, not let it free to attack.
Brandon tensed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat while panic had his wolf’s eyes glowing green.
Next to her, Saint shifted his position. There was nothing predatory in the movement. She glanced at him, saw that he’d leaned a shoulder against the wall, looking for all the world like none of this even mattered.
But it was all an act.
“You’re in a bad place, son,” Saint said, his voice lazy and laconic, rich and smooth, a magical thing in and of itself. Calming. Soothing, even.
Soothing? I don’t want to be soothed!
Zee curled her hands into fists, let one claw slide free to pierce her skin. The sharp pain cleared the fog from her head and let her see that she wasn’t wrong—Saint was, in fact, using his voice—wrapping it around Brandon and befuddling the angry, scared Therian.
It had wrapped around her, too, but the spell was shattered now. If she wasn’t so angry, she might have spent a few more seconds thinking about that odd power he’d just demonstrated. But... she was far too fucking angry.
“Whatever you’re planning on doing, just stop,” Saint suggested. “Disconnect that syringe, and put it down.”
Brandon twisted it, separating it from the port where it fed into the IV tubing. With a puzzled expression, he studied it. It was as if he’d forgotten he was holding it.
“That’s right,” Saint said. “What’s in there? Can you tell me?”
“I... there’s iron in it. And a sedative,” he said, meeting Saint’s gaze. “I don’t have a problem with Shale, but he’ll know it’s me. He hasn’t figured it out yet, but he will. He knows my scent and once he’s healed up and starts following my backtrail... it’s impossible to hide it forever. The sedative will keep the iron from hurting him and he’ll just... fade away.”
Zee choked on the rage-filled growl that threatened to tear out of her, grabbed the fear rising inside at Brandon’s admission—he’d already given some of the sedative-laced poison to Shale. How much? Shale’s color was worsening under her very eyes.
“That’s interesting. Put the syringe down on the window. His scent has changed. How much has he had?” Saint asked, pushing away from the wall.
Brandon stiffened.
“It’s alright.” Saint’s voice felt... more. “I need you to tell me though. How much has he had?”
She squeezed her fist, aggravating the small wound on her palm that had already started to heal. The sharp, minor pain focused her as Saint’s Fae magic curled around Brandon like a lover.
Brandon blinked, eyes clouding over again. “Only a little. It’s not enough to kill him yet. But the Fae healer was in here. She’d been working on him and put him into a healing sleep. She saw me, too. I might have to hurt her after I kill Shale. She might remember me.”
“She won’t,” Saint said. “She just left you in here?”
