28. Mutt

Jeffrey was quiet as we made our way into the woods. He'd borrowed his tiny brother's car—as his truck was in the shop again. It was difficult to squash inside the vehicle, but I managed, still half-naked, my suit laid across the back seat.

The car stank like cat, and I huffed, sniffing at the fabric with a frown the second I'd climbed inside.

"Sorry about the mess—I didn't have time to clean this." I blinked around the vehicle, frowning because I could not see a mess. "The hair," Jeffrey explained. "I figured it would bug you—you know, with your super nose."

"It is alright," I told him with a sunny grin. Jeffrey grinned back, and then we were off.

It hadn't taken long to get to this spot in the woods, though we had to go down a back road. A road I knew for a fact would end—because the woods at the end of it were right on the edge of the Elmwood pack lands. I found it a little odd that we'd traveled here, but figured Jeffrey had more surprises for me, so I wasn't going to complain.

The first surprise had been…

I didn't have words.

It had been thoughtful and sweet and romantic—the way Jules had tried to coach me to be. I wasn't sure I'd managed, but Jeffrey certainly had. And that laugh…god. The laugh he'd let loose would haunt my memories for the rest of my time.

I'd replay that memory during my last moments, and it would give me comfort.

We hiked through the woods on a skinny little path that looked abandoned. Though Elmwood was full of trees just like home was, it still felt off. Wrong and right at the same time. It didn't take long to reach our destination, and when we did, I frowned, confused.

Because in front of me was a clearing.

With a treehouse—recently rebuilt.

"This place used to be my sanctuary," Jeffrey admitted, stepping to the side so I could stare. I could taste death in the air—something old and lurking—more spiritual than it was physical. With a frown, I twisted to look at him. "It's also where Lydia found me."

He cracked himself open, his ribs split wide, his heart in my hand.

He told me about the sun. The way it had shined above on the day he'd been taken. Told me about the months leading up to that day—the gifts, the affection, the lies. Told me about the pretty promises, the compliments. The seeds of doubt planted in his young mind.

And then he told me about what had happened after. The people that had died. The people that he had blamed himself for.

About Lydia and her training.

Slowly, all the pieces that made up Jeffrey Prince fell into place. The tall grass hugged my legs as we moved deeper into the meadow, the barren trees hanging dry and high in the sky. The sun was beginning to sink low, but Jeffrey didn't seem bothered.

"I'm not…" Jeffrey sucked in a breath. "I'm not weak," he said softly, like he was trying to convince himself more than me.

"You're not," I agreed, because it was true.

"It took me a long time to realize that," he admitted. And then he tangled our fingers together and tugged me toward the targets that were set up near the tree. "Just…I mean. I think part of you is worried I won't be able to help you—and I just thought…"

There was a table beside the targets, covered in weapons. I stared at them, confused. Nothing was silver—and I could only assume that was on purpose. Because every weapon on that table was well-worn and obviously used. Some were more blood-stained than others.

Jeffrey released my hand—too fast—and reached for a bow and quiver of arrows. "Come back with me," he said, jerking his head toward where we'd come. "I'll show you what I'm capable of. Why you should trust me. That I can keep you safe too."

I followed dutifully, still not sure what was happening.

But…my confusion quickly melted away.

Because as soon as Jeffrey had me a safe distance away from both him and the targets, he let loose. Arrow after arrow. Target after target. Each arrow hit its mark strategically, effortlessly. His body was coiled to strike, graceful as a panther, the brutality of each precise movement making my head spin.

Jeffrey gestured for me to wait, then headed for the table again.

This time he came back with a handful of knives.

I stared, horrified and enraptured as he let those loose as well.

Bullseye after bullseye.

Knife after knife.

And then he grabbed a gun, and let loose much the same way.

And then a crossbow.

And then an ax.

I only recognized half the weapons he used because they were standard hunting equipment. Because we'd grown up being fed nightmarish stories of the hunters that existed out there—just waiting for the moment we became feral.

Some hunters waited their entire lives to kill an alpha.

They saw it as a game.

An achievement.

When Jeffrey finished, he was sweaty and flushed. His skin glistened, and his fuzzy orange hair was damp. He set his weapons down and turned to look at me again, eyes somber.

"You officially know more about me than anyone else," he said softly, nervously reaching into his pocket to fiddle with the guitar pick he kept there. "I know it's a lot —and probably scary—but I promise I would never hurt you." Obviously Harry's words had snuck inside his head.

I broke then.

I'd stayed still the entire time he'd been demonstrating, flinching as each target was struck, because the sound of the weapons making impact rattled around inside my head. Reminded me of what I was about to experience. Of the decision I'd made.

Of the hunters who would find glee in my death.

I know what he wants. He wants me to trust him. To believe in him.

To believe that he is capable of finding a solution for us.

Jeffrey's eyes searched mine. I wasn't sure what he saw there, but it probably wasn't good. He wilted, his hands clenched into fists as he glared to the side. "I…" he sucked in a breath. "I wouldn't hurt you," he repeated, voice hoarse. "I swear. I never did any of this shit because I liked it. She…she made me. I know I had a choice. That I could've said no. But I?—"

I had asked Jeffrey once, who had hurt him. And while Lydia had done a lot of damage, it had become increasingly clear over the last few months that the person who hurt him most was himself.

"No," I disagreed. "You didn't."

"I had a choice." Jeffrey wavered.

"What kind of choice was that?" My words must've struck a chord, because he stopped fiddling with his guitar pick, his entire body frozen. "Lydia does not strike me as the kind of woman who takes no lightly. You did what you had to do. You protected your family. You survived. There was no better choice you could have made."

"I wouldn't hurt you," Jeffrey repeated, like a broken record, trembling as he processed this new information.

"I know." I reached for him, my hands shaking. Desperately, I curled tightly around his body, my face pressed into his hair. He smelled like home and I breathed him in, my thoughts going haywire. "I know."

"I won't hurt you," he repeated again, still frozen. "I won't?—"

"I know, sweet one." I shushed him softly, enjoying the way he sagged into me, though it took him a moment to thaw. This dangerous, wicked man. Covered in scars, and full of secrets. Secrets that I was now privy to. Every last one. "But what if I…"

My head was spinning.

Spinning.

Spinning.

Don't do it.

Don't ask.

My moon mother hadn't risen but even now I could feel the ache of her touch. Feel the wolf threatening to burst beneath my skin. Feel the hungry hollow in my belly, and the way my claws were two seconds from bursting out of my skin.

My last moon.

This would be my last.

"But what if you…?" Jeffrey trailed off, head tipping back to look at me. I cupped his cheek, stroking over it to cover his ear. When I pressed a kiss to his sweet forehead and the wrinkle there, he sighed.

And then I fell to my knees at his feet.

His scent was confused-alarmed-worried, but I spoke anyway. Spoke even though this would be the end for us, and I knew that. But I…I just…I needed him. I needed him so very badly.

Dirt clung to my bare skin, grass tickling my body as I tipped my head up.

It was my turn to be lost.

"But what if I want you to?"