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I expect Atlas to fight because he always fights, and he doesn’t disappoint. “We have to—”
“Bro.” There’s a burr in my throat. That always-there fear that what I say will only fuck things up worse.
But I just imploded the pack, so we’re already at bedrock, and nothing’s worse than watching my brothers keep shambling through their pain.
So even if I’m not a leader, even if I ruin every fucking thing, I have to step up. “You’re a kickass team leader, and there’s no one I trust more to have my back on a mission. But when it comes to the pack, you have the emotional intelligence of a fucking gummy bear.”
“Damn it, Hunter.” He puts his head between his knees, and his voice tears. It costs him everything to keep speaking. “If you can fix the pack, you can have it. I’ll stand down. Just…tell me how to stop hurting everyone.”
What I want to do is puke in the bushes.
But I pulled the trigger, so I have to clean the splattered brains.
When I clap Jett’s shoulder, he flinches again.
I don’t know what he went through, but I know it’s dark, and if he doesn’t get help, the past’ll keep eating him until there’s nothing left but bones.
“Jett. Do you trust me?” I offer my hand, Aladdin asking Jasmine to jump on the carpet and go for a magic ride.
His eyebrows furrow—must not’ve seen the movie—but I keep going. “Are you ready to get help, or do you wanna keep fighting alone?”
“I…” He reaches out, and his fingers shake. Then he makes a fist. “I want to make things right.”
His jaw firms with determination, and with the passion flashing in his eyes, he’s like before-Jett—the one who smiled and laughed, who I pray we can still resurrect.
Fucking pumped, fucking terrified at the way they both look to me like the only life raft at sea, I straighten my shoulders. “This is the plan.”
ELEVEN
LILAH
Orion and I stagger across campus. Pretty sure we’re recycling the same thought.
Can’t believe the pack broke.
Orion’s lucky the backlash only has him stumbling. I’ve read case studies where omegas died from a severed mate bond.
Rare, but it happens.
Was their bond that fragile?
Wyvern Pack was never at the top of my heat list, but they were at least a footnote. A backup, last-resort, better-them-than-another-heat-alone option that I was keeping open in the way-back of my psyche.
Now they’re broken and basically off the table, and I’m equal parts relieved and terrified.
I also have one less day to find a pack thanks to that total bust of a social.
And if I’m going to survive the next one, I need better than makeshift shivs and borrowed knives.
So, I take Orion on a side trip to the indoor range.
The building’s locked this time of night, but I paw through a potted plant to find the bent paper clips I left the last time I broke in.
“Is this your dorm?” Orion asks while I fiddle.
“Nope.” The lock clicks, and I lead him downstairs. The actual armory’s a fortress with a keypad and bomb-proof hinges I couldn’t crack with a blowtorch, let alone office supplies.
But wouldn’t you know?
