Chapter 20

TWENTY

Asha

Funny how the end so often circles back to the beginning. Well, The End was our secret rendezvous point in the event some catastrophe befell our town. Like, for example, an invasion of Blood Mages.

While we all failed to escape to The End during their attack, Simon apparently still wants to reach it. The direction of his little dot on the map makes that clear, but so did some of the things he’s said to me during our fights. I realize now that he’s mentioned The End multiple times. Perhaps it was a clue to me. Perhaps he was always telling me where he was going to go.

But why? I haven’t a clue. Some poetic sense of resolution, I muse, staring out the window while Max drives us from one shifter town to the next.

The closer we get, the stronger I can feel him, and the more I know we’re heading into a storm. The fact that I sent my other pack members home haunts me, and I hope Simon doesn’t find them. Or whoever else has been rebuilding the town.

My pack doesn’t have money. They were in rough shape. It’d take them longer to get here than us.

I hope.

I’ve only just started reconciling with my past guilt. I couldn’t bear their loss on my conscience. If Simon kills them, there’ll be no one left. A cruel finish to the sad saga of the Blood Pack.

So much death…

A hand gently caresses my thigh. I turn and look at Max, who spares me a reassuring glance. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

He struggles to hit the right tone, the correct arrangement of eyes and mouth, unaccustomed to the art of consolation. It’s cute, I think, almost as good as if he was telling the truth but doesn’t know how to get that across. He’s learning though. Maybe I’m teaching them something, just like they’re teaching me so much.

Braxton reaches up from the backseat and squeezes my shoulder. “We’re going to get through this.”

I didn’t think he could be less convincing than his brother, but he manages it. A man used to reassuring his dog, but not anyone else. Maybe he would’ve done better if he’d pet my head. I flash him a soft smile, anyway. A for effort, boys .

“My worst days in the cooler,” Orson says, “when the darkness of my fate closed in around me and threatened to choke me, do you know what hurt worst of all?”

I’m surprised. Orson doesn’t talk a lot about his time in prison. If anything, he acts like it was just something small that occurred in his life, like a minor car accident.

I turn around to meet his eye. “What was the worst part of it?”

“Hope. The shadows grew so much darker when I went looking for a ray of sunshine to banish them. But it was no better than when I focused on what could be. My thoughts capitalized on my distraction, conjured the worst possible scenarios to haunt me with. But when I turned back to them, when I faced down my day to vanquish it one hour at a time, I passed through to the other side.”

After a beat of silence in the SUV, Braxton says, “That’s depressing, man.”

It was, but he’s not wrong. No matter what happens from here, I’m going to have to face my brother. There’s no way around it, so all I can do is face this situation in the healthiest way possible.

“It makes sense,” I reply. Quit focusing on the worst possible case scenario. Don’t let my imagination rush fate. Put my head down and deal with the moment. It helps. “Thank you, Orson.”

Trouble caps this all off by crawling over the center console to curl up in my lap. Mangy mutt . He knows he’s won me over. I stroke his back as he closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep.

“Of course,” Orson says, and our eyes meet, that strange connection burning between us.

“And if at any point you just want the Enforcers to handle him…” Max trails off.

I shake my head. “This is my battle to fight.”

It is. Maybe there are supernaturals amongst the Enforcers that could handle my brother, but I won’t let them. I started this whole thing. I need to be the one to finish it.

“You are the most equipped to handle it,” Braxton says, surprising me.

“How?” I ask with a laugh. I’m a few steps away from becoming my brother. I can bet there are better people than me to handle him.

Braxton doesn’t hesitate. “You have magic just as powerful as his, but you still have your soul.”

I stare back at him. “I’m not that different from my brother and the rest of the Blood Pack.” He has to know that, right?

He lifts a brow. “Are you kidding me?”

I swear I see the wisps of dark magic at the corners of vision, calling to me, mocking me. Inviting me to see the power inside of me for what it’s meant for. “The magic calls to me too,” I admit softly.

No one speaks.

I hate that I’m speaking these words. “In quiet moments. In desperate moments. The darkness calls to me, reminding me how easy it would be to disappear into the darkness.”

“I’ve been there,” all three of them say at once.

I stiffen in surprise, my eyes burning. “You haven’t.”

“I’m a wolf who was in prison with the worst of the worst. So many of us went wolf and didn’t go back. They’d go mad, become more animal than human, but it seemed easier. Some days…” Orson trails off, looking upset.

“The same thing happened in war.” Braxton’s voice is soft. “Men went wolf. Or men turned their weapons on themselves. Sometimes an easy escape seemed like the answer.”

There’s a pause and then Max says, “It was in our teens when our parents were murdered. We lost everything we knew and went to live with our aunt and uncle on their pack lands. Those days were dark for me. Days without a purpose–” His words cut off, swallowed by emotion.

“ Fuck ,” I say. “I’m pretty sure I know why my wolf feels so content with the three of you.”

They turn surprised gazes to me.

I shrug my shoulders and continue stroking Trouble. “I guess for some people, the darkness is always there calling. We just have to be strong enough not to answer that call.”

Would it always be this way? God, I hope not. I hope there will be a day when the weight lifts from my chest, and it’s easy to breathe. Easy to exist.

Max clears his throat. “I’ve had a lot of missions. This one has been the hardest and most complicated, but what I’ve learned is there’s always another mission.”

I laugh. “I like that.” It gives me something to hope for, even if a different mission doesn’t feel like enough. But, I guess, for me, my mission would hopefully be helping what’s left of my pack to rebuild. And, maybe, would also involve these three men.

“Do the Enforcers know what we’re doing? What the plan is?” Braxton asks, his voice still soft.

Max nods. “I spoke to them at length before we set off.”

Something in his face tells me that there were things said that he won’t repeat. I’m always curious about Max and his Enforcers. He seems like a man who likes to do everything by the book, but I’m also not sure if he likes the Enforcers, their rules, or what they stand for. It’s interesting and confusing.

“We’ve got three Enforcer traps for your brother at present,” Max informs, shifting from matters of emotion to those of business. “Each set up in his presumed path. They’ve been instructed to inform me if they have contact with—” His phone rings out, interrupting him. “That’s probably them now.”

Max retrieves his cell and answers the call. There’s a palpable sense of suspense within the truck as we all eavesdrop. “Max here.” Long pause. I scrutinize his features, trying to read into them a sense of outcome. He betrays none. “Right.” A second long pause, twice as long as the first. Unmistakable shadows cross his features. “Everyone?” he asks. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “And what’s your status?... Uh huh. Alright. Thank you.” He ends the call and stuffs the phone back into his pocket.

I take note of the way his fists wring the wheel, how his cheek ripples with muted rage. We all wait patiently for him to relay the news, wanting as much to hear as to not. What if they killed Simon and Max doesn’t want to say? It doesn’t seem likely, given what Simon pulled off in the last town.

Anticipation boils over and I spout, “Well, what the hell’s going on?”

“He slipped past the first trap,” says Max.

“And the second?” Orson inquires.

“Dead,” Max says grimly. “Every one of them.”

“Who did you speak to?” asks Braxton.

“Lieutenant of the third trap. They fared a little better, but still a bloodbath.” Max turns a pallid face to me. “Your brother’s one hell of a killer.” He turns back to the road. “They injured him, but it didn’t seem to slow him down much. I think the Enforcers are reassessing how to deal with him.”

Simon has become a monster. I have to come to terms with this reality. Like a dog infected with rabies, he’ll have to be put down. Am I really expected to kill my own kin? I can’t stop thinking about him in pain, somewhere at the center of that oily mass. He’s alone, probably some part of him still afraid of what he’s becoming.

“You really couldn’t fight him last time?” asks Max.

I gaze out the window, the trees blurring into a green sheet upon which memories project. I revisit the standoff with Simon, the moment I relented instead of finishing him. The strange silver magic seemed to separate Simon from his dark magic, but even then, I couldn’t save him. And now, it’s had all this time to sink its hooks into his soul. It’s rooted deep in his body now. Like fighting cancer that’s metastasized, my magic won’t just kill the bad cells. If I attack him again, I will have to kill him . Decidedly different from how I used it in our last encounter when I tried to rescue him with targeted magic. Can I even summon it for violent purposes? “I don’t know if I can use my magic to kill,” I think aloud.

“Maybe that’s why you haven’t succumbed to your rage,” Orson posits. “Your fellow pack members were lost to the darker side of magic because they used it to hurt. You use it to help. Perhaps that’s an important distinction.”

Orson may have a point. I hadn’t thought of it. But perhaps the magic is reactive, its nature dependent upon its use. If used in a violent manner, it wreaks violence upon the soul.

The car slows to a stop on the side of the road. Before I can ask Max why we’re stopping, he’s out of the car. “Piss break?” Orson asks.

“I doubt it,” I say, noting the tension in Max’s body, the way he storms up the shoulder of the road. I hop out of the car and join Max in front of it. “Hey! Hey!”

He finally stops and turns to face me, although he hangs his head and stares at his boots. “I don’t think we should go where your brother is,” he says.

I cock my head back. “Excuse me?”

“We should just leave it to the Enforcers.”

Is he kidding me? “What the hell are we?”

His hands curl into fists. “Or we can just blow up the whole town and not even bother fighting him.”

Blow up the town? “Like fuck we can!”

He rubs the back of his neck like a nervous tic. “The Enforcers can do a quick sweep, clear any of your pack out of there beforehand. Leave it for Simon, then, I don’t know, fucking firebomb the entire place.” He finally lifts his eyes. “Then all this will be over.”

“Max, that’s insane.”

“Is it? Better to keep you away from him, then to let you become him.”

I search his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Asha, I don’t want to be the reason this magic destroys you. I don’t know how it works, I don’t think any of us do, but it can’t be good for you to be around your brother. It intensifies everything. It…” He clenches his jaw. He’s afraid. He won’t admit it, but I can smell the fear on him.

He doesn’t need to be. Not if he knows what I can do. Not if he understands what I don’t quite understand about myself.

“You know, when he had you all hostage, I’m pretty sure I could have killed him then.”

His expression twists to one of shock. “Then why didn’t you?”

“Because I didn’t know what that would do to you and Braxton. I needed to get you to safety and then take the risk, because I wasn’t sure what would happen. I just… can’t be without you.”

It takes me by surprise when he seizes me and pulls me in for a passionate kiss. I breathe him in as our lips smash together, and desire uncurls within me. This is the man I can’t seem to get enough of. This man is tight-laced, a leader, and a passionate lover.

My hands grip his shirt, holding him close as his lips slant over mine. His tongue slips into my mouth, where mine tangles with his, drawing a groan from his lips. My wolf practically purrs with the touch, with the contact, with the need for more. So, I rub against him in frustration when he pulls away.

He holds my face and says, “I can’t lose you.”

It takes me a minute to calm my racing heart, my desire to fuck right here and now. But I have to, because this conversation is too important. “I can’t risk hurting my pack, Max. Or destroying what’s left of my own when we’ve already lost so much. I can do this. I’ll just have to feed on all three of you first. I think that will be enough.” And learn if I can use the silver light to kill, or if I have to touch the darkness.

He glances back at the truck where two faces stare out at us, contorted by obvious bewilderment. Reluctantly, Max replies, “Alright. But, Asha, no lies. We’re in this together.”

“No more lies,” I promise.

Then he pulls me against him once more. “Asha, I’m a patient man, but I’m going to need to have you again soon.”

“Have me?” My voice shakes.

His gaze holds mine. “I’m going to pin you down, spread your thighs, and taste you again. Do you understand me?”

I’m trembling with need. “I understand.” And I approve.

This man… he was a good choice.