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Throat tight with misery, I hug Diana close as I whisper, “Oh, Dee, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. But I’m here. I’m never going to leave you, okay? I promise.”
And then, even though I’m dying to go to my mother and touch her face and kiss her forehead and close her poor eyes and howl over her body, I turn and walk back into the living room, holding my shit together for my sister.
I call the emergency medical team and then my father, continuing to stay strong as he lets out a tortured choking sound before promising he’ll be up as fast as he can.
Then I call Bane, who doesn’t answer.
Then I call him again. And again, because I know he only left the tower a few minutes ago. I saw him headed out with Kelley on my way through the Atrium after school.
The fourth time, I leave a simple, brutal message, “Mom’s dead, come home. Now,” letting all the anger building inside of me come spilling out in my voice before I hang up and turn back to Diana, continuing to stroke her fur as she whimpers in my lap.
It’s not Bane’s fault either, of course.
But in that moment, it feels like his fault.
His fault that I’m the one who found her, that I’m the one here aging ten years in ten minutes as I realize I have to be Diana’s primary parent now. I have to take care of her the way Mom would want. Dad’s going to be too grief-stricken—and too busy being Alpha—and Bane has a hard time caring about anyone’s pain but his own.
* * *
I know that,even before Bane comes rolling into the apartment two hours later, long after Mom’s body has been wheeled away and my weeping father has left to take care of the paperwork at the morgue.
I emerge from Diana’s bathroom—she’s a little girl again, and I’ve managed to distract her from the nightmare-in-progress with a bubble bath and a tub full of toys—to find Bane leaning heavily on Kelley as he staggers through the front door.
His face is red and puffy, but I’m not sure if it’s tears or whiskey that’s to blame.
“You fucking reek,” I snap, stopping at the end of the hallway and propping my hands on my hips, not about to let him any closer to Dee in his current state. “Where have you been?”
“Take it easy on him, Max,” Kelley says, her eyes bloodshot, too. “When he heard the news, he just…” She gulps a breath. “He snapped, okay? He bought a fifth and just started guzzling it. I got him here as fast as I could.”
“Don’t wanna,” Bane mumbles, his eyelids drooping. “Hate this. I can smell the fuckin’ blood…” He shudders. “Don’t wanna be here.”
“Then leave,” I snap. “You’re not going to be any help like that, anyway. Might as well have gone to the club. No reason to let Mom’s death interfere with having a good time, right?”
“Stop, Maxim,” Kelley says. “He lost his mother.”
“So did I,” I say, lowering my voice. “And so did our baby sister, who’s only four years old and fucking traumatized because she found her mom lying in a puddle of blood. We have to be strong for her right now. We don’t have the luxury of falling apart or getting wasted or running away. After two years of Alpha-training, seems like you would have gotten that memo by now, brother.” Bane drags his eyes wider, meeting my gaze in the increasingly electrified air as I add, “Alphas don’t get drunk and expect other people to take care of them during a crisis; they pull themselves together and take care of their pack and their people. Especially their family.”
Bane’s jaw clenches and suddenly the air beneath my shirt feels hot and the hair at the nape of my neck stirs in a thermo-activated breeze.
I’ve never been on the receiving end of my brother’s pack gift—even when we were children, he knew better than to risk setting a person on fire—but it only takes a second for me to realize what’s happening.
But it doesn’t scare me the way it probably should.
No, I’m not scared…
I’m fucking livid.
I see red—the dark crimson of my mother’s life blood spilled across the floor.
A second later, I’m across the room fisting Bane’s shirt in both hands.
