31. Jeffrey

When I woke up Mutt was gone. I wasn't surprised. I knew he'd wanted to spend some time with his brothers today. So I wandered into the kitchen and chugged water from the tap to wet my dry mouth, limping all the way.

My ass twinged in an incredibly pleasant way, and I grinned to myself, more than a little excited for the next time I'd get to take his knot again.

And then…the conversation we'd had in the woods came back to me.

And I panicked.

An hour and a half later I was sitting in the parking lot of my therapist's office and I had half the country out looking for answers for me. Well…not half the country. That was an exaggeration. But definitely all my brothers.

They'd all been assigned different magic shops in the area, and I had plans after my appointment to head straight for the big hunting lodge east of Elmwood to see if I could get some answers of my own. I'd avoided it like the plague—mostly because I knew I'd get recognized there. Knew I'd have to play my part, the way I always had for Lydia.

But at this point…I didn't fucking care.

Mutt was worth it.

If I could play Jeffrey Evans for the last sixteen years—I could do it a few more times. Especially if it meant I got to keep my mate.

Because that's what he was.

Maybe there was a way to turn me? A way to work around the rules. Except that everyone knew wolves were born, not turned. And the movies, comics, and TV shows that said otherwise were full of shit.

I was giving myself today.

Today.

And then I'd give up on this and start hunting for a mate for Mutt.

I nearly canceled my therapy appointment entirely—but…for the first time in my life, I was actually ready for it. Actually ready to speak about what was happening to me. And I needed…well, I needed someone to talk to.

Which was why there was no hesitation when I pushed into the doors of the pristine white office, flopped onto the "thinking couch" and let loose.

I told Doctor Mason everything.

Once again glad that I'd opted to go with a therapist that was sanctioned by SAC as it meant I didn't have to filter most of my life. She listened, and her expression was gentle and fond. By the time I was done talking, when I glanced at the clock, I realized our time was almost up.

"Sorry," I managed, throat dry. She offered me a water bottle and shook her head with a wry grin.

"Don't apologize," she said softly. "Listening is what I'm here for."

"Right," I flushed, taking a sip of the water—and then chugging it, because why not. She'd offer me another, and I was paying her a shit ton of money, so.

"Why did you forgive him?" she asked and I frowned, confused. I crinkled the bottle up, and tossed it across the room. It hit the wall and skipped right into the trash can.

"Forgive him?"

"Mutt," she clarified softly. "Why did you forgive him for lying about being your dog?"

If she felt bad for telling me my "dog" was just a "dog" it didn't show. I suppose she did get paid the big bucks to have a pretty spectacular poker face, though. She'd make a killing in Vegas, that was for sure.

"I…I mean. Why wouldn't I?" I frowned, not sure what her point was.

"Think about it," she said softly, watching me with warmth in her eyes. I stared at her for a second, frowning deeper. I had no idea what she was on about, but…sighing, I did as I was told and closed my eyes to think.

"He wasn't trying to hurt me," I decided, because that was the first thing that came to mind.

"Right," she agreed, voice gentle. "In fact…he wanted to keep you safe."

"Yeah." I didn't really get the point of this—but she'd taught me over the last few months that she was one wise motherfucker. And she did help. Even if I hadn't wanted to admit it at first.

"Would you have forgiven him as easily if he'd lied because he had an ulterior motive?"

"Like…if he was pretending because he was working for Lydia or something?" As always, my mind went back to Lydia. "I mean. Obviously. That would've been shitty—and a lot harder to forgive."

"So you're saying that intentions matter," she said carefully.

"Obviously."

"They're important to you."

"Of course they are," I opened my eyes and stared at her, not sure what she was getting at.

"Jeffrey." Her voice was warm, and her eyes were a little wet as she leaned forward, hands on her knees. "When you were nine?—"

"Fuck." I already knew where this was going. This was how she always brought up when I'd been taken.

"Did you know what Lydia had planned?"

"What? Of course not." I stared at her, arms crossing tightly over my body. "Of fucking course not. I wouldn't—I mean. If I'd known I wouldn't have gone with her."

"Did you… intend for people to get hurt?" She worded that so carefully, and I appreciated it, but there was no point beating around the bush.

"Did I intend for Blair's parents to get murdered? No."

"Did you want Blair to be taken with you?"

"Fuck no. I didn't even know who he was."

"And after you were taken—when you found out what lengths Lydia was willing to go to keep you in line…did you intentionally act out to cause Blair harm?"

"What?" My head was spinning, memories assaulting my senses. The bite of blood. Dark closets. A party that made me feel hollow. Millions of tiny little transgressions. The constant fear. Adrenaline in my veins. "No."

"Would you say…your intentions have always been good?"

"I…" I stared at her. Really fucking stared. Because…that was the moment it clicked. That was the moment I realized what she was getting at and I just…

The clock on the wall tick, ticked.

My tongue felt like it was fuzzy, and my stomach was full of lead.

"I…" I tried again, voice cracking. "I?—"

Because I understood. I understood now what she was trying to say.

All my life I'd held myself accountable for Lydia's actions. I'd blamed myself for the harm that had fallen on Blair and his parents. The hurt that had decimated my already broken family. I hadn't understood why they could take me back. Why they could love me—so wholly—when all I'd done was hurt them.

I was fucking poison, and I knew that.

Except…

Except…

Maybe… this was…why?

Maybe, the same way I'd forgiven Mutt for his lies, they'd forgiven me. Because intentions mattered. And if they could forgive me—if I could forgive Mutt—should I not…forgive myself?

I was nine.

Nine years old.

I was a stupid kid, yeah.

But Lydia had been a monster.

Mutt said I was the most wonderful person in the world. He thought I was strong. Resilient. And I was realizing now…he was right. Because I was. I fucking was. I'd survived. I'd survived every game Lydia had made me play, survived every weapon, every barb—every tightrope.

And all this time I'd carried the weight of my guilt like a noose around my neck.

But…

The noose fell away, as easily it had formed. Sixteen years of anguish dropping to the floor like it had never been there at all.

I sucked in a breath, and Doctor Mason grinned at me. "There," she said softly. "Congratulations, Jeffrey." My skin felt too tight, but…right all the same. Like all this time it'd been two sizes too small and now it finally fit the way it was supposed to. "You just had your first breakthrough."

"I have a lead," Avery's voice was tinny through the speaker of my phone as I sat in Blair's car—because he'd let me borrow it, solid dude that he was. Richard had not offered his Audi, and I figured that was fair, as I apparently did not have the best track record with cars.

Not that my truck breaking down recently was my fault—because it wasn't. The water pump had been loose, and it was a more extensive fix that Joe said he "did not fucking have time for right now."

Richard had used up his favor already to get my truck towed a second time, and therefore I had no choice but to wait.

"You have a lead?" My fingers gripped the steering wheel tight enough the leather squeaked. "Fuck."

"It may not help," Avery warned. "But if you head to the lodge like planned there should be a hunter there named Nieve. I was talking to my mom and she mentioned something about him having lived with a wolf pack for a few years."

"I thought they didn't do that."

"Most don't," Avery rustled around on the other end of the line. His voice grew muffled, "Betty—do not—get that out of your mouth—I swear to God."

"Avery."

"Sorry. Cats." More rustling. "Okay so. Nieve. Try to find him and get him talking—maybe you can find out something new. If there really are wolf packs out there that allow humans inside them, there might be stuff they know that other packs don't. I don't know if you'll get the answer you want, but it's a start."

"Thanks, Avery. Seriously, man."

"Don't worry about it." I was about to hang up when Avery spoke again. "Do you need backup?" I appreciated his concern, especially because he knew just how…scary entering a lodge would be for me.

"Nah, I'm good." I didn't want to wait for him to arrive—and I figured…I'd be safe.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure?—"

Avery squeaked. "Oh! My food is here. Gotta go. Let me know what happens."

"I will," I promised, my heart in my throat, but the line was already dead. Anxiously, I pulled the address up on my phone and started the drive. Blair's little Yaris rattled around on the road—struggling with the pebbles that accosted it.

I remembered driving this car.

It'd been mine before it was his—and I'd never liked how sketchy I felt on roads just like this.

Apparently buying a truck hadn't done me any fucking good though, at least…not now.

The two hunting cabins in Maine were located forty or so miles from Elmwood. Close enough to offer SAC support when they called for it, but far enough away that the rare citizens who knew they were there often forgot about their existence.

They were a widely spread secret—but a secret all the same.

I knew the location of every lodge in North America. Courtesy of Lydia's teachings and the monsters she'd had us travel all over the country to kill. I'd never actually been to these two, but that didn't mean I didn't know where they were, or what would happen when I arrived.

So I buckled down, buckled up, and prepared for the worst.

Nieve was a dead end. I plied him with compliments, fake bonded with him over killing things, and acted starstruck. Even bringing up Lydia's name didn't garner any extra information—which meant that he knew jack shit.

She was my golden ticket.

"It's so good seeing an Evans in these parts again," he said, arm looped over my shoulder. The wooden walls of the lodge felt claustrophobic as Nieve urged me toward the massive fireplace that sat in the center back of the large visiting area. Up the steps were the bedrooms—just like the ones I'd spent my entire childhood holed up in with Lydia. "We were starting to worry—" Nieve laughed. "But it seems Lydia's boy's got a taste for something rare."

Fuck, his voice was loud.

Too loud.

The group sitting on the couches by the fire twisted to look at us. And with sinking horror, I realized I recognized one of them. This is exactly why I didn't want to come here. The pit in my stomach grew heavier, but I pasted on a smile anyway.

Smile.

Don't show them the truth.

You can do this.

"Something rare?" One of the men—the one I fucking recognized—said. He had a handlebar mustache and his dark eyes were bright, assessing as he dragged them up and down my body. My skin crawled, and I had to force myself not to flinch. Instead, I flexed a little, watching the way his gaze flooded with heat.

Maybe I could use his attraction to me to my advantage?

That was something—right?

"Our boy's asking about werewolves," Nieve laughed, like it was funny. Even though these psychopaths probably thought I was trying to kill one.

"Werewolves?" Handlebar's gaze moved from my crotch to my face and I hid my flinch. "You know, I've got a book in my room about werewolves I could let you borrow."

I had no doubt there was no fucking book in his room.

Helplessly, I glanced around the other hunters. There was a woman with dark hair and a stank face that ignored me entirely. A round man with rounder spectacles and a ketchup stain on his shirt. None of them looked particularly impressive.

Pitiful , Lydia's voice echoed around inside my head, but I forced it away.

"Nieve and I were catching up," I grinned, bumping my shoulder against the older man. "But I'd love that book if you would be willing to grab it for me?—"

Handlebar's eyes narrowed.

I remembered him.

He'd been there for my first wendigo. I could remember the way he'd grabbed onto me at the end—had I not realized how creepy he was then? Fuck. There was no way in hell I was going anywhere with him.

What if he really does have a book?

I wavered.

"How about…when you're done catching up," Handlebar's lips pulled into a smirk, "You can come on up."

Goddammit.

He was stubborn.

I shouldn't have come here.

I realized that now. It was pointless. And these hunters were as likely to help me as they were to shoot me with the fucking pistols they kept strapped to their hips. The guns glinted, and I forced myself not to take an anxious step back.

I'm stuck now.

I wished I'd had the foresight to accept Avery's offer of backup. Or at the very least, let Mutt know where I was headed. Though…him walking in here as a feral alpha was a recipe for disaster.

For an hour I schmoozed, plying the group with jokes and stories of the shit Lydia and I had done. With every bloody anecdote and their resulting laughter, I hated them just a little bit more. These people were fucking evil. The way they snorted when I regaled them with my first goblin hunt was disgusting at best.

"Did they squirm?" Handlebar asked, eyes dancing. "I love when they squirm."

"Knife or gun?" the woman asked.

"I made one explode once," round glasses hummed, voice low and nasally. "Covered him in C4 then watched him go kaboom." He mimed an explosion with his hands, then frowned. "It was messier than expected."

"How can you expect anything less than a mess if you're blowing them up?" The woman rolled her eyes. "Slow and steady is the answer."

"You only say that because you like to bleed them," Nieve laughed.

I wanted to throw up.

But my smile never wavered.

Get me out of here.

Fuck fuck fuck.

I shouldn't have come.

I shouldn't have come.

A phone buzzed.

Thank fucking God.

The conversation stopped as handlebar pulled his phone out of his pocket with a grimace. A grimace that quickly morphed into something wicked. "Evans," he said, addressing me, his eyes burning. "Looks like you're about to get your wish."

"What?" My ears were ringing.

"Just got a call about a rogue alpha wolf not that far from here."

I couldn't breathe.

My smile never fell.

"A rogue alpha?" I laughed, two seconds from breaking in half. Please don't be Mutt. Please don't be Mutt. Please don't be Mutt. Please don't be Mutt. "Where?"

"Found him in Elmwood. Someone called it in. Local hunter went to investigate, and fucking thing couldn't shift to talk to him."

"That's the first sign," the woman hunter grinned, leaning forward in excitement. "So he's free game?"

"The clocks ticking," round glasses added.

"You think they'll let us let him loose so we can hunt him?" Nieve asked, his voice low and crackling, his arm still tight around my shoulder. He gave me a little shake. "Aren't you a lucky one?" he purred, grinning down at me like I was supposed to be fucking elated.

I suppose I couldn't blame them for thinking this was what I wanted.

But I just…

Fuck.

Fuck.

I was so tired.

So tired of pretending.

"Fuck you." The words slipped out before I could stop them. Nieve flinched back, his arm sliding from my shoulder, his eyes narrowed.

"What?"

Fix this.

Fix this.

Fix this.

"Fuck you," I repeated, jerking out of my seat. The fireplace continued to crackle but it didn't burn nearly as bright as the hate that bubbled up inside me. "Fuck all of you. Every fucking one of you." Movements jerky, I headed toward the front door, desperate to get away before I heard another fucking word.

"Evans!" they called after me, but I was already outside.

The trees climbed high toward the sky, and my heart was pounding. Head jerking left and right, I searched for—oh fuck. There.

Hanging over the railing I threw up the remnants of my coffee, heaving, as visions of Mutt with a bullet in his brain assaulted my senses. I didn't know what his alphaskin looked like but it didn't matter. It didn't fucking matter, because no matter what shape he took, it was him—it was him?—

And—

Fuck.

Fuck.

Please don't be him.

Please don't be him.

Please don't ? —

A warm hand settled on my shoulder. I flinched, jerking away, my fingers fumbling for my gun. I discovered, too late, that I had forgotten to arm myself before I'd left the car. God, I was so fucking stupid. Only—it wasn't handlebar, or Nieve, or either of the other creepy goons who was touching me.

It was a man.

A very big, very golden man.

With short butter blond hair, lavender eyes, and triangular ears on the top of his head.

A wolf.

A fucking wolf.

At the hunting cabin.

Do you have a fucking death wish?

"You can't be here," my breath caught. I didn't need to ask for a name to know who he was. The resemblance to Mutt was uncanny. "You can't?—"

My breath reeked, and I knew that—but I just couldn't…I couldn't be fucked to care.

"It's okay," the wolf—who I could only assume was Butters, Mutt's older brother—said. He held his big hands out placatingly, his eyes soft and warm and full of understanding. "It's okay."

"It's fucking not," my voice snapped. "You have to get out of here."

"Come with me—" Butters reached for me, and I didn't push him off. I couldn't. Because visions of injured Mutt assaulted my senses again and I tipped over the side of the bannister to throw up again.

His big warm palm rubbed my back, a soothing rumble buzzing through the air. This time when I glanced up, his ears were flattened back, worried.

"Why are you—" I tried to catch my breath, spitting over the side of the bannister, before grabbing the hem of my shirt and wiping my mouth. I could hardly breathe. My knees were weak, and black spots swam around me. "Why are you here?—"

I didn't want to know.

I didn't want to know.

Because I got the feeling I already did.

"I'm looking for Mutt."

"No." My voice broke. I fell to my knees on the wood, heart skittering. " No ."

"Theo's around back—we split with Jules and Harry."

"Fuck." I couldn't breathe. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"Why are you here?"

"I'm—"

"Jeffrey?" The front door pushed open. And within two fucking seconds—we were fucked. Completely fucking fucked. Like a total idiot, Butters transformed, his wolfskin bursting free, his clothing tearing and falling in tatters to the floor as he jerked in front of me. Yellow fur decorated his body, his tail tucked between his legs, his ears flat. He snarled, and Nieve stumbled back inside, a wicked grin on his face.

"Fuck." He'd just bought us a minute while they gathered silver bullets—but that wasn't enough. Wasn't fucking enough. "Go, go, go, go." There wasn't time for my panic. So I shoved it aside, knees weak and wobbly as I forced myself up, grabbed a fistful of Butters's fur and yanked him toward the steps.

He made a confused sound. Probably because he was the stupidest person alive—and had no idea what he'd just done.

Werewolves were protected as a whole.

The only exception to that was feral alphas—aaaaand those who had actively attacked a human. And Butters had done just that.

This was open season.

At a fucking hunting cabin.

"Go, go, go, go—" I jerked him down the steps, and he followed, huge hairy body brushing against my belly as we stumbled. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

I should've brought my gun inside.

Should've brought it with me?—

What had I been thinking? The car beeped as I unlocked it, jerking Butters behind the bumper as I yanked the hatchback's trunk open and scrambled inside for something—anything.

There was no time to run.

No choice.

I grabbed the gun I'd placed there, checked the barrel was full, and shushed Butters's whining.

The front door to the lodge opened. A quiet creak. They couldn't see us behind the car, but that would only last for so long. All they had to do was walk across the porch and?—

I only had a second to get this right.

The guilt I normally felt disappeared entirely as I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and prepared myself for blood.

When I jerked around the side of the car I could see all four hunters lining the patio. They were looking for us. Guns in hand.

Pop, pop, pop — thump, thump, thump .

They fell like dominos with pained cries—bodies hitting the porch.

Handlebar moved behind a bannister and—fuck, fuck, fuck.

I can't get a clear shot.

"What the fuck. Are you doing?" he yelled out, but I barely heard him.

Butters was panting beside me, his massive body quaking like he was absolutely fucking terrified. Which was fair. Because he could probably smell the silver in the air.

C'mon, Jeffrey.

One more shot.

You've got this?—

I jerked back behind cover for a second, biding my time. If I was silent. If I held still—I could tempt him out into the open again. I could?—

A giant black wolf tore into the parking lot, gravel kicking up beneath his paws.

Theo.

Butters had said Theo was here.

That he was?—

Oh no.

Oh no.

I jerked around the side of the car just in time to see handlebar raise his gun and point at Mutt's other brother. Oh fuck no. No. Fuck . Fucking idiot wolves.

I pulled my gun up—pointed—and at the last second, handlebar shifted his muzzle toward me. Good. Good . I'm the threat here—I'm the threat—don't shoot him. Don't kill him. Don't—don't ? —

There. A clear shot. I aimed my gun at his heart.

I shot off a bullet and seconds later, agony, unlike anything I'd ever felt exploded through my chest. I couldn't breathe—blood clogging up my throat as I fell to the ground with a painful grunt.

Butters whined, but my head was spinning and I just?—

Fuck.

The gravel tore at my knees and cheek as I fell forward. Sticky hot, my chest—my chest felt?—

"Fuck." Theo's voice was as sweet as ever. Warm hands gently latched onto my shoulder, gingerly tugging me around so I was lying on my back. Which—was a bad fucking idea, because I began to fucking choke. My eyes swam, searing pain burning through my body as I gasped and spluttered, more frothy pink liquid spilling from my lips.

"Lungs." Theo's voice was tight and panicked. "He shot him in the lung."

"Fuck." Butters's voice was shaky. "Fuck, fuck." Blearily, I recognized that I was lying on the gravel of a hunting lodge with two naked men hovering over me. Which was weird as hell, yes, but not all that weird in the grand scheme of things.

"M—" I tried to ask them about Mutt, desperately needing to know that he was going to be okay. That they'd fix this. Even though I…

Fuck.

Fuck.

I couldn't.

I couldn't.

I didn't know how much time I had, but I wasn't a fucking idiot. A human can only survive so long without oxygen and I couldn't—I couldn't—I couldn't?—

"Butters—" Theo's voice quaked.

And then more pain exploded in my shoulder. Liquid hot and horrible. I couldn't even whine, coughing and shaking—and then…

Everything went black.