Chapter 13

THIRTEEN

Braxton

Trouble whimpers at my side, clearly distraught by what he sees. Shades of our Middle East missions . I know he thinks it too. Dogs are more intuitive, emotionally intelligent, and complex than we give them credit for. Sometimes I feel like our connection allows me to read his mind. And he mine.

Sometimes I feel closer to Trouble than I do my own twin.

I turn my head to watch him, steely gaze sweeping the neighborhood, passing over the carnage with the same deceptive indifference he exhibits while driving. Is it deceptive? It’s like there’s a simple switch on his heart that allows him to disassociate whenever it’s convenient for him.

But then, around Asha, it becomes easy to feel once again. I wish I was more like that instead of this broken soldier. I envy his tenderness when it’s needed. I feel that my own ability was stolen, if indeed I ever had the capacity. With Asha, I think I have some softness still inside, but perhaps there’s still something in the way, something that threatens to spoil the budding connection between us.

“I have to call this in,” Max announces. He turns to Orson. “Run back, grab your computer. I want a bird’s-eye view of this place. And be careful. If this is the same thing as before…”

“The Blood Mages,” Orson says with a knowing nod.

“Yes,” Max says, lowering his voice. “If you see anyone, run like your life depends on it.”

“Sure thing,” says Orson before bounding back down the trail like some fucking blond Easter bunny. Something is wrong with that boy .

Max shoots me a look that says watch over Asha, before pulling his phone out and venturing into the woods to make his call. It’s funny. The guy has always been a born leader, but also always seemed to hate working with other people. He acts like every move anyone makes is his responsibility, which, I guess, it is, but I’ve never worked with anyone like him before. My old leaders either left me alone or ordered me to do horrible things.

Which makes Max obviously the better leader, I guess.

When Max disappears from view, I draw my attention away from him. Like Trouble, I’m on high-alert, looking for any sign of danger. My gun sling is around my shoulder, ready to be pulled into a shooting position when needed. If another fucking Blood Mage tries to screw with my mind like last time, I’ll kill him before he can succeed.

Asha, Trouble, and I stand in the middle of the street, surrounded by dead bodies, the roar of near and distant fires all around us. Trouble upturns his head, looking at Asha with concern, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Despite her features frozen in a blank thousand-yard stare, he can sense as well as I can that something isn’t right inside Asha’s mind.

While I wrestle with whether or not to say something, Asha starts to shiver and makes the choice for me. Taking her by the arm, I lead her out of the street, where we’d been using large rubble in the road as cover, into a side-yard between two unburned houses. I turn her face to meet my gaze, but she doesn’t see me. Asha’s somewhere else, transported by the sights, sounds, and smells of the aftermath of violence.

Fuck. I recognize that gaze, I know that world. The PTSD that claws and eats at you until you want to rip your own heart out to be free of it. The only reason I’m not worse than I am is because of Trouble. When you have a living, breathing creature that needs you to help it heal, that relies on you to survive, you have to say fuck it to your problems and do exactly that.

The other officers wanted to leave him behind, said he’d never live. Not after all his injuries. But I wouldn’t let him die, and he never stopped fighting to live.

I wish there was something like that for Asha. A purpose outside of revenge against the Blood Mages. Something I could help her with. Because right now, I feel as useful as a chocolate teapot, standing rubbing her arms gently.

“Asha, you’re safe. Look at me.”

She doesn’t look at me. The color has drained from her face. Her eyes are staring at nothing at all.

“Take deep breaths.” I try to think of all the things I’ve done to get out of that dark place, but I can’t dunk her head in cold water. I won’t slap her. Screaming could bring our enemies down on us. “Touch something. Look at something. Remember where you are.”

She just keeps shivering, and my heart aches. I’m fucking helpless. I can’t even pull the woman I care for out of her nightmare. What good am I? All I can do is kill.

And I don’t like killing.

It takes Trouble licking her fingers for her to return to the present moment with a jolt. She blinks and suddenly I can see me in her eyes and hope returns. “You’re okay, Asha,” I say, sandwiching her face between my hands. “What you’re feeling, I’ve felt before, too, but you’re safe now.”

Flatly, she responds, “You have no idea what I’ve been through.”

“I’ve been there, Asha.” More than she knows.

“Killing a kid isn’t the same thing,” she snaps.

It lands like a slug to the chest. I drop my hands from her face and turn away, but a hand on my shoulder pulls me back. I shrug her off, but she grabs me again, more forcefully.

“Hey,” she says, laying a hand against my cheek. “I’m sorry, okay?”

I take a breath. All the old memories rise up like a flock of frightened birds. Perhaps relating them to her will offer one of us something, show her she’s not alone, or help me get over my bullshit. Regardless, I feel it creeping up my throat like nausea and it’s coming out, anyway. “In the military, shifters get treated differently than human volunteers. Smart ones, like my brother, might see a little action, but ultimately, they prove their minds more valuable than their fangs. They escape the battlefield for the desk. They review reports, make decisions, instead of dodging bullets, which is what you do if you’re dumb, like me.”

“Braxton—”

I raise a hand to cut her off. I don’t need her cradling my ego. I know what I am and what I’m not. Smarts are overrated, anyhow. “I got dropped into the shit, the hairy situations they don’t send their valuable soldiers into. Places where no matter who wins or who loses, death is always the victor. And failing to save my teammates, watching them die like dogs in foreign streets ripped me up inside. Nothing was worse than being forced to inflict that sort of pain on others. Because no matter what someone does to you, there’s a part of you they can’t reach. But when you give that up,” I bite back my emotions, “you’ve got nothing left. And that’s what killing innocents does to you. It tears out that last scrap of soul and sets fire to it. Because it’s worthless now. So I told them I wasn’t going to be a weapon in the hands of sadists anymore. And you know what they did? Beat me half to death for it, threw me out like trash.” Rage and pain and sadness grow so loud my body vibrates.

Trouble is there beside me in an instant. No longer just keeping close to my side, but pressing himself against me. I run a hand over his fur, but I’m shaking. This shouldn’t be his responsibility. I need to get myself under control.

Her glassy eyes regard mine with sympathy, and though I don’t deserve it, I let her take me into her arms. She strokes my head and squeezes me tight. “I’m sorry, Braxton.”

The quakes settle, and she releases me, settling her hands on my shoulders. “I understand,” she says.

I search her eyes and see the reflection of pain. “Do you?”

She nods. “I’ve never told anyone this before…” Her eyes wander from mine, unsure whether she’ll share. I give her the moment, don’t press her. If she wants to share with me, she will. Her eyes return, and she takes a breath, then releases it with a shaky exhalation. “I tried to leave my hometown once. For college. Did all this research until I came across this golden fucking opportunity.” She says these words with disdain. “A school with scholarships for half-breeds. Of course, it didn’t exist, but by the time I pieced that together, I’d already given up enough information for them to track down our pack’s secret oasis.” She fights against them, but she can’t stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks. She angrily swipes them away. “It was all my fault the Blood Mages found us. And if that wasn’t enough to damn me, I gave up my own kind to save my own skin.”

I furrow my brow. “What do you mean?”

Tears stream in twin rivulets that meet at the point of her trembling chin. She struggles against a breakdown, and I wish desperately I could remove this weight from her shoulders, but listening is all I can do. I think perhaps it’s helping, at least in some small measure. “When they were…”

I take her hands and she squeezes mine.

“When they were torturing me, they gave me an option. If I’d had enough, they said I could pick someone else to take my place. I spat in their faces, but after a while I just couldn’t take it anymore. I…picked someone. They made good on their promise, but forced me to watch.”

She pauses as something in her periphery snaps her attention to the side. I follow her gaze to find Max and Orson standing nearby. By the looks on their faces, they’ve heard everything. I don’t know why, but suddenly I’m afraid. Like getting caught naked outdoors. I feel the same tension grip Asha as we await some response.

Max steps forward, reaches out to me, and pulls me into a bear hug, with Trouble at our side. Into my ear he whispers, “When I learn the name of the man who beat you and left you for dead, his death will not be swift.”

He pulls away and grips my shoulder. We stare into each other’s eyes and he nods.

Then he turns to Asha, and gently wipes his thumbs across her wet cheeks. “Just because scum used you to hurt your pack doesn’t make you like them. Your torturers didn’t bring you down to their level.” He reaches out and takes my shoulder again, pulls us both in towards him. “You both need to forgive yourselves. You’ll live like ghosts until you do, and that’s not living.”

I lay my hand over his on my shoulder and feel relief trickle over me. I’ve always put my trust in my brother’s judgment, feared what he would say when he learned of my humiliating discharge. Forgive yourselves. It never felt like an option, but I suppose he’s right. The weight of the guilt holds me back and, somehow, my brother has eased some of that guilt.

Damn it, he really is too good for me. Even now. Instead of being disgusted by what I did, he’s reassuring me. Max. The man who loves to follow the rules and worships the chain of command.

Max turns his head away from us and I wonder if this has touched him, if he’s hiding an errant tear. The man never did like to show emotion. But then he turns back, his face a stern mask. “The Enforcers will be here soon.”

Fuck. He’s right. As much as I want to focus on this, there are more important things to do.

“I’m not going to wait for them,” Asha declares, paving over her emotions with determination, surprising all of us.

Max sighs. “Thought you’d say that.” He turns and snaps his fingers at Orson, who doesn’t look the least bit offended at being summoned like a bellhop. “What’ve you got?”