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I stared at the kid. Not a kid. A man. A barrel-chested man, with bulging arms and fists like fucking boulders, built like a goddamn fire truck. One who was about to tear this goddamn place apart and us along with it.
Tires squealed faintly at the edge of my focus. The soft thud of a car door followed. But I soon forgot about those sounds, focusing more on the Son as he turned and paced in front of his brother, taking mammoth strides that cut between us and his brother.
“You can’t let it out.” Carven urged.
Colt unleashed a snarl, raising those mangled bloody fists to slam against the sides of his head. He was going to tear this place apart, that was certain. But he was going to beat himself to death doing it.
“What the fuck is going on?” London snarled.
The slam of his boots crowded in. I turned then, taking in the air of barely contained rage in the man.
The man I’d once hated.
The man I once would’ve put a bullet in his head.
Until her.
Until…Trouble.
“He’s going out of his mind.” Carven wrenched a terrified gaze to the only man he’d ever known as a father. “Look at him!”
London lifted his hands and took a step forward. “Easy, Son…easy.”
Colt had calmed down once before, pulling himself out of whatever mental anguish this was. But this…this was…different.
Colt’s eyes sparkled in an unhinged and inhuman way. He was a madman in his movements. His lips curled, teeth bared, as he sucked in heavy draws of breath and stalked forward. A growl rumbled in his chest, throbbing like a living thing trapped in there.
“Changed.” He snarled. “Changed…changed…changed.”
“He keeps saying that.” Carven shook his head, tormented. “He keeps saying they are changing or they’re changed.”
London scowled and took a step forward. “What are you saying, what’s changed?”
A moan came from Colt. He raised a bloody fist and drove it into the side of his head before he threw his head back and roared.
I flinched at the sound.
“THEY! THEY! THEY CHANGE!!”
“They?” London whispered. “What do you mean ‘they’?”
Colt, or whatever that was, shook his head.
But London pressed him. “What do you mean ‘they’?” He stepped forward, grabbing his Son by his shoulders. “Do you mean the babies? Beast! DO YOU MEAN OUR BABIES?”
“YES!” He bellowed. “YES THE BABIES!”
“Jesus Christ.” London seemed to collapse. “Jesus…fucking Christ.”
A pang of agony tore across my chest. London stumbled, almost falling to his knees until he slammed his hand against the wall to save himself. “The babies.” He shook his head. “It’s the babies.”
But as tormenting as it was to witness, I couldn’t care about his pain. Not right now…not then. “You…you can feel them, can’t you?”
Colt lifted his head and that feral stare stopped on me in an instant.
That thunder boomed inside me. I was so selfish at that moment. So utterly fucking selfish. Still, I didn’t care. I’d use anyone, hurt anyone, to get Helene back to me. “You can, can’t you? You can feel them.”
London turned back, that pained stare fixed on Colt before he stumbled forward. “Is that true? Can you…can the Beast feel them somehow?”
