Chapter 2

TWO

Asha

Trees stream past my window, their foliage a verdant blur off the shoulder of the county road. Each night, we settle down at another crap shack that transforms for a few hours into our love nest. Each morning, we pack up our bliss and continue the hunt. It’s almost like living two separate lives. The more hours I spend riding shotgun while Max transports us to the next site, the hazier the previous night becomes, until I lose it entirely to the mission.

I need to finish this . I can’t keep living astride the line dividing vengeful Asha from loving Asha. I must put the former to bed so the latter may thrive.

Still, so many things haunt me. Like the image of Rich. The man had survived the attack on my people and had spent years alone, rebuilding the town, only for my brother to come back and kill him. Brutally. He left a note pinned through him with a knife, telling us about the party he would be attending at North Rapids compound. There, my brother intends to kill the last of the Blood Mages, and probably any other innocents who get in his way.

Another event that might haunt me.

My brother is twisted now. Even if I might be responsible for what happened to him, for thinking I was applying to a college and bringing our enemies down on us and for leaving him during the attack, I can’t suffer forever for those mistakes. Nor can I allow him to keep suffering just because of my guilt.

“New information,” Max says beside me.

I startle, glancing away from the window to see Max putting his phone down.

Apparently, Max had ended a call I wasn’t even aware he was having because he’s so concise and focused when he’s in mission mode. Every time it goes the same way. He picks up a call, listens, says a word or two, and then we’re informed of some new key piece of information in our search for my brother. This time, he hadn’t even said a word. But then, I guess we actually know where Simon is heading this time, so things are a little different.

Enforcers are a pile of fun.

“What did they say?” Orson asks from the backseat.

“Probably nothing useful,” Braxton mutters from near him.

Max casts me a glance, almost as if he’s hoping I’ll shut them up.

I shrug. “I’m with Braxton.”

He shakes his head, but doesn’t crack a smile. Not when he’s in Enforcer mode . “Enforcers have secured a place for us to stay in Royal Creek where the North Rapids compound is located. Over the coming days, they plan to trickle a small force into the region, but for now they’re told to hang back until we learn more about this party.” Max glances in the rearview and meets Orson’s reflected gaze. “Check the magic signature map, and tell me Simon’s last known whereabouts. We need to keep a closer eye on him.”

“Sure thing,” says Orson, shifting Trouble’s head off his lap. The golden retriever rises and pads in a circle on the backseat before resettling beside Braxton. Orson retrieves his laptop from its bag and opens it on his thighs. Nimble fingers dance over the keyboard and in seconds he’s accessed the signature map. “There’s a splotch of activity in a city up ahead,” he reports.

Max turns to me. “Seems to confirm your brother’s message. Our trajectory is pointing in the direction of the North Rapids area.”

In the backseat, Braxton leans closer to Orson’s computer screen to peek at the map. “We should probably stop there,” he says. “Investigate his use of magic. Like we’ve seen, the bigger the magical signature he leaves, the more shit he’s done in that location.”

“A reasonable idea,” Orson agrees, tossing his long blond hair a little as he smiles at Braxton.

“Any opportunity to better understand the mind of the enemy,” says Braxton, stretching a tattooed arm along the backseat.

I’d never really thought much of tattoos in the past, but now I’m definitely in the camp of them being sexy. Maybe it’s just because anything would look good on Braxton, or maybe because I’ve licked those tattoos a few times. Who knows?

“I agree,” says Max, drawing me back from my thoughts, and the tone of his words shows that he’s the definitive opinion on the matter. He reaches over the center console and takes my hand in his. My wolf rouses, I can feel her tail sweeping back and forth with excitement at his tenderness. Max is an affectionate man, but not when he’s in Enforcer mode. Not unless he thinks I need his attention. “How are you doing with all this?” he asks me.

How am I doing with all of this? Love and lust are two emotions I never thought I’d feel again, or at least like this. They definitely beat out the guilt, fear, and anger that have surrounded me since the day my village was attacked. But how am I really?

The truth? So much better than before. So much better that I don’t want to think about my brother, or my pack, or before, because I’m scared that remembering the darkness will pull me back into it. Scared that the darkness is always just in the back of my mind, waiting to be noticed and spring back to life once more.

But I don’t say those words aloud. Saying them aloud would make them feel too real, so I decide to focus on what he’s really talking about. My brother. What I have to do. And if I can do it.

I rub my thumb over his and sigh. Though Max asked the question, I’m aware of the backseat’s interest in my answer, subtly leaning in. Even Trouble perks his ears up, intuiting that something important is about to be said. “Much better than before,” I admit. “It’s been a difficult journey, but I think I’ve finally arrived at a healthy place.” I scoff. “Which feels counterintuitive when talking about the murder of my own brother, but I guess the point is I don’t see it that way anymore. When that… thing dies, it’ll set Simon free. He’s no more than a puppet at this point, totally controlled by that malevolent force.” I take a deep breath and release it. As the air streams through my lips, I feel a weight lift. “It’s like a burden’s been taken off my shoulders. I had to come to grips with the loss of my brother in order to accept the necessity of his destruction.”

Max gives my hand a squeeze and he flashes me a loving smile. Sympathy gleams in his eyes. “We’ll make this next part as quick and painless as possible.”

Quick and painless? Is that even possible?

“I get it. I feel the same way about my shit,” Braxton pipes up from the backseat.

I turn around to face him. “What do you mean?”

He rubs his hand between Trouble’s ears. The dog settles his head on Braxton’s thigh while batting his stubby tail against the leather upholstery. “When I came back,” says Braxton, “I was grateful to have Trouble by my side, because I didn’t think I had anything else. Max had moved onto the Enforcers while I stayed in the military. Eight long years was enough to fuck me up good so that when I left I felt like I’d never get out of that mindset. Checking corners, assessing threats, viewing the world through the lens of the mission.” I could relate to that. “But Trouble gave me something to take care of, to focus on. To build a relationship with. This pooch was my way of finding myself again, underneath all the training.”

“You could always count on me, Braxton,” says Max. I notice his fist gripping the wheel tighter, uncomfortable about his failings as a brother.

Max would always be there for his brother. I know that. Braxton knows that. But the world looks different through eyes filled with pain, something Max can’t understand the same way we can.

Glancing at Braxton, I wonder how Braxton will handle this tactfully. I’m pretty sure nothing hurts Max more than the knowledge that he can’t protect everyone he loves. Likely because he couldn’t stop his parents from being murdered when he was a child.

We all have so many wounds, so much baggage we carry, weighing us down, slowing us from healing. I know we'll never be entirely free of it, but we're learning to live with it, with one another.

“I know that now,” Braxton reassures him after a quiet moment. Max’s hand loosens, and his eyes move up to the rearview where they connect with Braxton. “And I guess that’s what I’m saying. Like Asha, I’ve learned to let go of my past. To accept the gifts of the present.” He reaches into the front seat and squeezes his brother’s shoulder.

It’s a rare show of tenderness from Braxton that touches my heart. “I wish I could kiss you right now,” I say, my heart overflowing with care for this man.

Braxton unbuckles himself and leans forward between the two front seats, barely managing to fit his heft between the seats. I laugh while he struggles to present his lips to me. How can such a big, tough man make me smile like this?

“I think that’s about as close as I can manage,” he says, grinning.

“I think I can work with that.” Leaning forward, I kiss him, breathing him into me.

When we part, I hold his face in my hands, and he doesn’t move away, no matter how uncomfortable he might be right now, squeezing between the seats. We gaze into each other’s eyes, admiring the patched souls behind them. This man, he’s mine, and I’m glad he’s mine.

“I suppose I might as well admit I share in that sentiment, as well,” says Orson.

Braxton falls back into his seat, his attention moving to the other man. “Yeah?”

Orson looks reluctant to say anything for a painfully long moment before he gives a little shrug. “For so long, I’ve felt alone. I more or less came to accept that I’d be a wolf without a pack for the rest of my life. When the opportunity arose to escape jail and join the Enforcers, I didn’t think it would be anything more than my ticket to fresh air.” He runs his hand along Trouble’s golden coat, as though the dog is some sort of totem for our four-way relationship. Our unofficial mascot. “The time I’ve spent in your company, however, has proven my pessimism wrong.”

“You, a pessimist?” I say.

He cracks a grin. “What, you’ve never met a cheery pessimist before?”

“Orson, in so many ways you’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”

“Seconded,” says Braxton.

“Yep,” Max agrees, actually cracking a small smile.

“You guys,” says Orson, grabbing each twin by their shoulder and giving them a fraternal shake. “That we’ve all been able to share Asha is a true blessing. I feel like I’ve been inducted into a new pack.”

I flick my eyes between the two brothers, scanning for their response. Have they fully accepted Orson yet? The tension releases when Braxton looks at each one of us before saying, “A pack ought to have a name.”

If Braxton was in my reach, I’d kiss him again. That tough-looking outer shell of his is like one of those rocks that you cut into, and it actually ends up being a piece of cake. He’s all squishy and soft on the inside. And Orson is someone who really needs some squishy friends right now.

Plus, I could use a pack. It’s not like I’ll ever give up on my childhood pack, but I don’t have to be alone until I find them. And there’s nothing that says that Max, Braxton, and Orson can’t be in my pack too.

“You’re right. We need a name,” Max says. “What’ve we got?”

We all lapse into thoughtful silence. Then Braxton offers, “The Asha Fan Club.”

The SUV fills with laughter. “Asha and the Three Mutts,” Max submits.

“Sounds like a band name,” says Orson, grinning.

“What about Trouble?” I ask, glancing at the happy dog. “Shouldn’t it be four mutts?”

Braxton rubs Trouble’s belly, who smiles and rolls into his lap for better access. “Trouble’s no mutt, are you, Trouble?”

“How about Therapévos Pack?” says Orson. Our befuddled silence makes clear our ignorance and Orson explains, “It’s Greek. It means heal .”

I catch Braxton shaking his head in the mirror. “You would,” he says, and both men chuckle.

My life might be a little crazy, but it’s good too. I’ll have to remember that when I have to kill my brother.