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“I wasn’t enough to stop them.”
She squeezed her eyes shut tight briefly. “Did you read the book?” she asked.
I could feel it like a weight on my soul, tucked into my pocket as it was. “I will, if you want me to. I would… I would like to rid you of that command.”
She shrugged, so clearly unsure. “I…” Her voice shook. “I would, too. But it’s a lot, when I wrote it, I was…”
“I’ll read it,” I said. My heart twisted at what she might have written in those pages, of the pain they held. Pain I’d given her. But I didn’t want what I said right now to be tainted by that book. She deserved these words from me because I owed them to her, not because she asked, or because I witnessed the pain she’d never wanted me to see. I wouldn’t let her suffer more because of my cowardice. Not for one second.
“I think… I think I’m ready to get out,” she whispered.
“Okay.”
“But… uh…” She looked nervous. “I might… need help.”
“I can do that,” I said, wondering how long she’d been in there.
I reached in with my free hand, but she gripped me tight, gaze nervous. “I, um… I might cry. It’s not you.”
She was right.
By the time I’d helped her up and scooped her out of the massive packing box—along with a bundle of clothes and the collar—there were silent tears tracking down her cheeks.
Holding her in my arms was an indescribable feeling, even if she was trembling—which was all wrong. Too long, she’d been with that pack, and I was afraid of the wounds she now carried—ones she had because of me. How much had happened in that time?
I had become a different person in that time.
But she was safe.
She was here.
I wasn’t stupid, though, even as I tried to find ways to deny it. I was looking at a woman who had sought safety in a box because my pack wasn’t enough.
She was broken because I had failed her. I shoved back the burning in my eyes. I couldn’t crumble, not until I had given her the world.
Right now, she was raspberry treacle, the scent of earth and fur that lingered so faintly on Aisha’s collar, and blackcurrant wine. There was an edge of a claim in the latter scent. Drake had marked her. That settled my instincts. She was wearing my pack’s claim. It was small, butsomething.
I owed Drake another thanks, as well as another apology.
Where would we be without him?
Where would she be—with no safety in this place but for the fading traces of a friend long gone.
She deserved better.
I set her on her feet, helping her steady herself as she wiped her eyes with the sleeve of Drake’s shirt.
I would give her better, starting right now.
VEX
To my utter shock, Love sank to his knees before me, a tremor in his grip as he took my wrists.
I stared down at him. His dark braid, which hung over his shoulder, was messy and loose. His eyes were lightless from fatigue, yet they were full of an intensity that stilled me. His scent, vanilla winter, was edged with sorrow, and I didn’t know if I was comforted by it or not.
I shrunk in on myself, unsure.
What was he doing?
