24. Elara

Chapter 24

Elara

A wave of heat rushes to my cheeks as I briskly make my way into the expansive dining room, acutely aware of the gazes that follow me. Kaspian, Axe, Wilder, and Cav all sport identical expressions of post-coital satisfaction, but it's my own mortification that has me feeling like a blushing virgin.

"Finally," Sasha says with an amused wink as she hands me me a cardboard cup of coffee, "you've come up for air."

The guys let out collective, low sounds of amusement, a pride of male lions purring over their sole lioness, as they take their coffees from the to-go holder at the center of the table and recline, while Sasha gives them all wry looks.

I take a deep breath to calm my nerves. It's me that's the problem, not Sasha. It's not wrong to sexually connect with more than one guy, and college is all about experimenting, right?

Kaspian lifts the lid from his coffee and inhales deeply. If I had blinked, I wouldn't have caught the contented lowering of his eyelids, like he's happy , before he snaps his unfeeling self back into place. He glances my way, almost daring me to react.

Wilder grabs his cup with both hands and drinks deeply, heat be damned, his Adam's apple bobbing with each gulp. His charged gaze meets mine across the rim, as if making sure I'm still here and haven't escaped anywhere.

Axe casually stirs his coffee with a silver spoon, the liquid swirling in hypnotic circles without looking down—just at me, like he's dissecting my embarrassed thoughts and finds them amusing.

Cav doesn't touch his coffee.

My attention darts to Sasha again, who seems utterly at ease with these men who are anything but college boys.

My heart jumps into my throat as a realization nearly makes me choke on burning hot coffee.

Sasha's reaction to them is important to me, because I am attached to these men .

What we share isn't merely physical anymore. Emotionally, too. Every smirk they share, every word, the way they drink their coffee , all of it resonates with me, strengthening my bond with them.

Fucking hell.

"You okay, El?"

Sasha's question drags me from my sex-addled thoughts—because that's what it has to be, some sort of post-coital bliss making me feel this way about them. I need to refocus and remind myself of the real reason I'm here. It's not to get tangled in the sheets with these four undomesticated men, although that's an unexpected bonus. It's to find out what happened to my brother and why he was so certain the Sovereigns want to involve me in their final ritual.

I answer, "Yep, I'm totally fine," before plopping into my seat and hiding as much of my reddened face as I can behind my cup.

"What's on the agenda today?" she asks. "Because after all this, I doubt we're studying for mid-terms."

I drum my fingers along the paper cup, still nursing my coffee. "I need to visit Clover Callahan."

A large, dark, masculine cloud descends upon the room.

Wilder leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "You want to parlay with a Vulture?"

"Uh, last I checked, she was a freshman," Sasha says.

I clench my fists in my lap under the table. "Clover is one of the few people who might have some insight into Sarah Anderton's history. My history."

A foreboding tremor quakes along Wilder's jawline. Axe just maintains his unsettling calmness, studying me with his harrowing stare. But it's Cav who speaks, his words every bit as icy as the glacier chips he's housing for eyes. "That woman is dangerous."

"I know," I say, meeting his cool survey without flinching. "But I can handle her."

Wilder scoffs loudly at that. "You can barely handle us."

Something inside me snaps at that.

Standing abruptly, I slam my palms onto the table, making Sasha jump in her seat. "What you mean is that I've dealt with far worse than Clover Callahan."

The hinges of Wilder's resolve audibly creak as he leans forward, muscles tensing under his tight, black shirt. "You don't know what you're walking into. The Vultures have been bred like us, meaning they will protect their woman if you so much as exhale too close to her face."

"I'm not asking for permission." I stare him down.

A thick silence engulfs the room, so complete that you can hear the crinkling of the paper cups from their combined grips. Cav is the first to break it, the sharp angles of his face becoming razor-edged.

"You may be a Wraithwood, but that doesn't make you immune to their treachery."

Cav's voice is barely controlled, a stark contrast to his typically calm demeanor.

Probably because he's been the closest to the Vultures, worked with them even, and understands them the best.

I dive into the bottomless depths of his stare. "I never claimed to be invincible."

"You have a dangerous habit of underestimating your enemies."

"And you," I fire back, "mistake scars for invincibility."

I don't have to include his chest for him to understand what I'm referring to.

The searing brand of his scrutiny intensifies, but I lock onto the burn.

This is bigger than us. This is about finding out who I am and who my brother was. Nothing is more important.

Axe rests his forearms on the table, one hand clenching his phone. "Even if you find Clover, Elara, she won't be alone. She never is."

"Sounds familiar," I drawl.

Kaspian exhales a sound caught between humor and threat, lounging back in his seat. "She wants to play with the birds? Then let her."

I clamp down on my rising frustration. "You've seen more than one side of them, Kaspian."

Wilder laughs. "And what side is that, exactly? The one where they kill people?"

"No, like when Rossi and Tempest stitched up his shoulder. Not to mention, they helped me get my mother to safety instead of into jail."

Sasha shifts uncomfortably in her seat. "Maybe we should?—"

"I know what Clover is," I concede, so passionate about the subject that I cut Sasha off. "But I also know that she wrote a paper about Sarah Anderton's nameless daughter—who is likely one of my ancestors, and she did a ton of research. There's something there, guys."

Kaspian's rare laugh cuts through the air, sharp as broken glass, like I'm some sort of chick following the bigger birds around, and it's the last straw.

I push back from the table, my chair scraping against the floor. "Fine. You guys can sit around debating the risks all you want. I'm going to track down Clover and get the information I need. Feel free to join me when you're done with your little war council."

I stride for the door, but Wilder's voice stops me. "Wait."

Glancing over my shoulder, I see him push to his feet, muscles bunched tight. "I'm coming with you."

"No, you're not."

"You need backup. And out of the four of us, I'm still flawless in my execution."

He winks while the other three frown, but don't argue, since they sport fresh injuries and he's come out unscathed.

So far.

It's a stark reminder. My worry for them ratchets up to an unbearable level.

If the Sovereigns get to them before I've found the answers, if I lose these men forever and waste all of Maverick's, of my father's, efforts to bring down the Cimmerian Court … what did they die for? What am I good for?

My time is running out.

Wilder slings his leather jacket over his shoulder as we exit the manor and descend the stairs to the circular drive.

I glance sideways at him, my initial irritation melting away as he falls into step beside me. I'll never admit it, but his attendance is a comfort. Clover may not be a threat, but her Vulture bodyguards are. Having Wilder along could mean the difference between getting the information I need and ending up in a body bag.

We stride across the gravel drive, boots crunching, my mother's manor taking its skeletal shape behind us.

When we reach the sleek black SUV, Wilder opens the passenger door for me, a gentlemanly habit even in the midst of his lawless, unpredictable mind.

Though I expect it, I still flinch when he gets into the driver's seat and guns the engine, the SUV leaping forward like a viper and me recoiling like the viper's lunch.

He tears down the long, winding road, gravel spraying from the wheels.

Farrow Manor, where I've left poor Sasha with three of the most unprincipled men I've ever come across and their assurances that they'll make sure Sasha goes to class today and finds normalcy again, recedes in the distance.

I stare straight ahead, my side of my throat hammering with my pulse. I'm acutely aware of Wilder beside me, his body a tangled spring of energy. It's hard to believe he funneled so much of his fire into me a mere hour ago.

We hit the main road, the SUV eating up the miles. Trees blur past, a green smear against the lightening sky.

As the journey stretches on, I realize that this is the first time I've been alone with Wilder since...well, since he threatened to jump off a cliff if I dared him to. I study him out of the corner of my eye, his expression focused despite the seemingly reckless driving as he navigates the twisting roads leading out of Titan Falls.

I ask, my voice barely audible over the thrumming engine, "Why are you really coming with me?"

He doesn't respond immediately. His grip tightens on the steering wheel momentarily before he rumbles with subdued laughter. It sounds hollow. Haunted, almost.

"Someone has to keep an eye on you," he replies eventually, but his smirk isn't as dimpled and confident as it normally is.

I roll my eyes at his response, an action more to keep myself from analyzing the turmoil behind his features than for mocking him.

But instead of dipping into silence again, he surprises me by speaking up.

"Four years ago," he says, his voice barely floating over the sound of tires on asphalt, "I had a girlfriend. Teagan."

His revelation stiffens my shoulders in my already tense body. "The friend you mentioned when we were at the cliffs. The one who…"

For whatever reason, I can't say the word: Died.

Or that she was his girlfriend.

He nods, understanding what I mean. "Tea was different. Bright. Alive. She had this ability to see the good in everything, even when there was none to be found. Kinda like someone sitting beside me right now."

He tries to inject humor, but sorrow bleeds into the edges of his voice.

"She's dead because of me," he murmurs, keeping his eyes on the road.

"You never explained why you believe that," I prompt quietly.

Strain ripples from his face to his hands, leaving his knuckles pale against the dark wheel. "She was innocent, unaware of the Court's existence. I was an initiate who'd just had the ceremony in front of the Sovereigns to make me a member."

His eyes glance at me before returning to the road, and there's a distress in them that makes my heart clench.

"I've never been good at following orders, doing what I've been told without question. The Sovereigns knew that. They used Teagan as leverage, claimed they had her hostage and would kill her if I didn't comply." Beneath the dark scruff of his chin, a battle of restraint plays out in taut muscles. "I didn't believe them... until they sent me proof. A picture of her, bound and blindfolded with terror in her eyes."

"Oh my god," I whisper.

I'm fully aware of the Sovereigns' depravity at this point, yet they still manage to shock me with their callousness.

"They dared me to try and save her. Said that if I found any information about the ruby Heart, she'd be freed. They left out the part where they'd already sold her."

Wilder's voice breaks, an agonizing sound that rips through the car's interior. I reach out, placing my hand on his arm, conscious that comfort will never be enough.

"It was easy enough to track her down. I had Kasp, Cav, and Axe on my side, using their talents to dig up where they'd put her. But when I got there…" He lets out a breath that sounds more like a sigh of defeat. "There were other girls there, too. Sold to some mafia perv named Marco Bianchi who was excited to spread them around to his friends. Knowing that, I lost my shit. There was no way I was going to interrogate any of those fuckers for a stupid piece of jewelry, so I grabbed Tea, who they'd stripped and drugged, and got out of there."

Raw anguish carves itself into the planes of his face, and in that unguarded moment, the facade of smirks, flirtation, and ill-timed jokes crumbles away. For the first time, I glimpse the man beneath the armor—vulnerable, scarred, and achingly human.

"How did she...? You mentioned before…" I start, but my voice trails off as I grapple with my words.

"She died in my arms," Wilder finishes for me. "I wasn't fast enough. Kaspian and Cav covered me, Axe was in the car down the street waiting for us, but it wasn't enough. They shot her down like some kind of target practice."

His truth slams into me, an invisible force that empties my lungs and stills my heart.

"I carried her body out of there. Cradled her in my arms as her blood soaked through my clothes. And all I could think was that it was my fault. I brought her into this world because I thought she was pretty and cute, and I stupidly thought I could have her and the Court at the same time. I couldn't protect her from it." Wilder clears his throat, the sound harsh in the stillness, and I realize Wilder's eased off the gas. "I failed her. I couldn't protect her from the Sovereigns. And now, with you..." He shakes his head. "I won't make the same mistake twice."

"I'm so sorry." My voice cracks. "What happened to Teagan wasn't your fault. The Sovereigns, they're the ones who?—"

"Don't." He slices through my words, that one syllable jagged with emotion. "Just ... don't."

But I understand. The helplessness, the desperation to save someone you care for from an enemy that always seems one step ahead. It's a feeling I know all too well.

"Doesn't change the fact that she's gone because of me. Because I was too much of a dumbfuck to see their game."

Wilder sniffs hard, schooling his face into practiced apathy. "After that, I promised myself I'd never let anyone else get close. Never let anyone else become a victim because of me. But then you showed up."

My hand stills on his arm, the stress under his skin bulging against my palm. His body is a paradox—present yet distant, still but far from at ease.

But I also feel strength. Resilience. A fierce, unbreakable will to protect those he holds dear.

It's then I finally figure out that Wilder isn't just coming with me as backup. He's coming with me because he cares, because he's willing to put his life on the line for mine.

The SUV lurches as Wilder takes a sharp turn, the tires screeching against the asphalt. He guns the engine, the vehicle surging forward with renewed purpose.

And I'm guessing the conversation is over.

I grip the door handle as he rounds another bend, and there, rising from the treeline, is Blackwood Manor, home to Clover and the Vultures.

Wilder cuts the engine. His hands leave the wheel reluctantly as he faces me, and his curt nod says more than words could.

Together, we exit the vehicle, striding towards the old but well-maintained structure, ready to face whatever might crawl out of its walls.