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Atropa’s poison crept into my mind, ruining me. Turning me on my brother. My fists were tight around his throat as I shook.
“What’s he doing?” Gareth demanded. “Fight back you fucking oaf!”
“He’s just going to roll over?” Eric asked.
Flynn was standing before the screen, a scowl on his face as he watched.
Umbra didn’t fight me. His hand came up, brushing my cheek.
Terror and confusion collided, and then I was reeling back, letting him go. I knew who he was. He was my brother.
My pack.
And he would die before he killed me.
“Yes!” Eric was laughing. “That’s it. We justkilledthe odds.”
They were celebrating.
I clutched Umbra, bones quaking.
My brother.
And I’d nearly killed him.
“My lucky pack,” Flynn was saying. “Tell them I’m in—allin, and bring us more drinks.” The doorman bowed his head, then left.
“Damn, for a moment there…” Gareth blew out a breath.
“Flynn called it,” Eric was saying. “Pack five is our golden ticket.”
“At least 68 fights back. Won’t roll while he’s choked to death.” Flynn barked a laugh, words slurred. “What kind of shitwasthat, anyway? Fucking pathetic.”
The days flickered by, and the Lincoln pack returned, week after week as we suffered.
Umbra was losing it.
He pinned me to the bathroom floor, a plastic fork digging into my skin. I curled up, trying to find solace in the knowledge they wouldn’t take him next time.
“You’ve got to be joking?” Eric laughed. “Trying to get himself picked?”
“He knows, right?” Gareth asked. “He’s got to know.”
“I think he does,” Flynn snorted. “But I don’t give a shit what he does. It’s fucking working.”
Umbra was gone.
They’d taken him.
After everything, they’d taken him again.
I lost it, aura flaring, the world burning around me as I felt his pain and fear through the bond. I threw myself against the walls until I was black with bruises, until I hurt so much I couldn’t feel him anymore.
“He didn’t see that coming this time? How fucking thick is he?”
That was the day the Lincoln pack were brought a black suitcase. That last day they had visited.
Inside that case was what they’d stolen: the missing piece we’d been hunting. But no words were exchanged on the video feed, addressing what was inside. When it was set on the table before Flynn, Eric clapped him on the arm.
