Chapter 25

O n the slow drive back to the house, I saw no sign of Archer on the country roads. Disheartened, I arrived at the property and opened the garage door using the clicker. Assuming Archer wasn't still in wolf form, the only other place he might be was in his bedroom, and my intention was to sneak in and check if he was okay. He must have been shaken up after fighting off three men, especially because the fight kept escalating.

When I got out of the truck, a strange metallic sound stilled me.

He's in the gym. That's got to be him.

Making a silent entrance, I spotted Archer on the weight bench with his prosthesis on. He was pushing what looked like a tremendous amount of weight. Repetitively. Without pause. As I drew closer, the anger on his face was palpable.

"Archer, are you okay?"

Ignoring me, he kept lifting the weights.

"Please talk to me."

Every muscle was locked tight as he pushed up that heavy bar. He must have kept spare clothes in the gym, because he was dressed in black sweatpants and a matching T-shirt. What he didn't have on were shoes or socks.

"What's wrong?"

He finally set the bar on the rack, unhooked his hand from the bar, and sat up. Sweat beaded on his temples as he stared straight ahead. "This can't work."

My heart lurched. "What do you mean?"

Archer swung his leg over the bench and leaned forward on his elbows.

"Is it because of what happened back there?" I stood before him, hoping he would allay my fears and that he wasn't about to crush my heart. "They outnumbered you. Three to one, and you still fought them off. You should be proud of that."

"Proud?" He scoffed and rose up. "I'm ashamed you had to see that. I'm ashamed because I'm not a man you can be proud of."

"Yes, you are."

"Back at the bar, I was showing off at darts like an arrogant jerk. I guess the fates wanted to remind me who I really am."

"You're gifted. That's not arrogance. The fates had nothing to do with those idiots."

Turning away, he crossed over to the mirror, his eyes downcast. "You don't know the whole story."

I sat on the weight bench. "Then tell me the story of Archer Swift, because I want to know who that man is. I need to know who you're telling me not to love."

His head tilted slightly, and I knew it was because I said love out loud.

That's what my heart felt, so I had no intention of retracting my declaration. Despite his perception of what happened back there, all I saw was a man who had fought for me and not against me.

Archer stared at himself in the mirror. "I once had a pack who admired me. I decided early on I wanted to live up to my name. So I learned archery and spent hours and hours practicing until I was the best anyone ever saw. My hunting skills even impressed the Packmaster. My packmates started setting challenges. I thought making it into a wager would get them off my back, but it didn't."

"You told me this. You made money from bets."

Archer stared at his prosthetic arm. "I got the bow-and-arrow tattoo when I was nineteen. Then, later, I got a long arrow inked on my left forearm. I thought it looked badass since that was the arm I used to grip my bow."

Tilting my head to catch his attention, I asked, "How old are you now?"

"A hundred and nine."

While that came as a surprise, sometimes I saw a lifetime lived in his eyes.

"You called me your protector, but I'm not. I'm a sinner." He lowered his head.

I jumped to my feet, but when I touched his back, he pivoted away from me.

"Don't give me your kindness or pity. You'll regret it."

Leaning against the mirror, I crossed my arms and watched him return to the weights while deliberately avoiding eye contact.

"Archery wasn't my only skill. I was a womanizer. Every beautiful woman was a notch on my bedpost. My packmates were jealous that it came so easy, so they would lay bets on women. I never took advantage of them through alcohol or coercion. That's the only honor I can claim. This went on for decades, even when I joined a new pack of my own. One day, my friends set a challenge to seduce a mated woman. Anyone I wanted. When the pot got high enough, I chose a woman who seemed unhappy with her mate. She was easy to bed, and I made money. More challenges followed, only they picked the women."

"All mated? "

Archer sat on the bench and averted his eyes. "Yeah. The more unattainable, the higher the stakes."

"So you had a gambling problem."

He shook his head. "I had an ego problem. The money never mattered. I cavorted all around the city with single women, never hurting anyone. But every so often, someone made a wager on a mated one. Suddenly I had a reputation to uphold." In sharp, angry motions, Archer began removing his prosthesis.

"That's not who I see now. You've never hurt me, have you?"

He gave me an indignant look. "I would never hurt you."

"If those women slept with you, they weren't happy. Something in their relationship was unraveling, and they were looking for a way out. Or maybe they just wanted to have a good time, but it was their choice. How can I judge anyone after doing the same thing? We're all stained with our past mistakes."

"Some more than others." He set the arm next to him and stared at it. "One day, they dared me to bed a Packmaster's mate."

The air stilled.

"So I seduced her." He ran his hand over his face. "I was also a braggart. The wrong person found out and relayed the information to the Packmaster."

"What did he do?"

Archer pressed his lips in a mulish line before answering. "The alpha and his pack came to our home and surrounded us. Most of us locked ourselves inside to protect the children while the Packmasters argued. I didn't know what it was about until they called me outside."

Archer had a visceral reaction and turned his head away.

When I reached out to touch him, he launched to his feet.

"I can't do this." Archer marched out of the room without a backward glance.

"Archer, wait!" I rushed after him, but his strides were long and carried him through the backyard and beyond .

Gathering up my dress, I chased after him in the dark, the moonlight brushing over his silhouette. He managed to get halfway down the fenced-in pasture before I caught up with him.

Panting, I gripped the wooden fence. "Please don't make me chase you."

A haunting sound caught my attention, and it startled me when I realized what it was. Archer choked on a sob, and the sight and sound broke my heart.

I circled in front of him, and he quickly wiped his face.

"I thought they were going to kill me," he croaked before taking a deep breath. "Fuck. That would have been better."

"Better than what?" I asked, sensing where this was leading. All this time, I'd assumed he lost his arm in an accident.

Archer wiped his face again, and moonlight shimmered in his doleful eyes. "When my Packmaster walked off and left me in the yard, I knew I was going to die. I yelled for help, but nobody came. Nobody came." He trailed off in sobs. "Two men held my arms out wide and forced me onto my knees." Archer took deep breaths as if struggling to breathe and then cleared his throat. "I begged the alpha to let me go, but he wouldn't listen. He kept saying how he wanted my pack to remember what I'd done. He wanted them to see. Then his beta handed him a sword."

Archer dropped to his knees, clawed the earth, and unleashed a roar that stilled me.

A wolf howled. When I looked back, Catcher reached for the moon as if mourning Archer's pain.

I had no words. He was trembling in the grass, hovering between rage and anguish.

Archer sat back on his heels, and when he spoke, the life and emotion had ebbed from his voice. "He cut off my arm. You can't imagine the pain unless you've experienced it. Then the horror of seeing your arm on the ground as if it never belonged to you. There was no going back, no undoing anything. His men may have laughed at me, but I don't remember. I fell onto the grass as I bled to death, staring at that arrow tattoo on my arm."

I choked back tears. Somehow it didn't seem fair to invite myself into his pain.

Touching his left shoulder, eyes closed, Archer recounted those tragic minutes that forever altered his life. "Blood pumped out so fast that I was on the verge of death, so my Packmaster forced me to shift. Sometimes I wished he had let me die."

"Don't say that." I fell to my knees in front of him. "Don't ever say that."

The line between his eyebrows deepened.

"I never pursued a mated woman again after that. Ever. Even if they were in a casual relationship. I always made sure… until the night we met. I should have asked you."

Then it hit me like a sledgehammer. "No wonder you thought I was a mistake. You made a vow."

I stood and paced to a tree, realizing the danger I'd put him in. After finding out, Noah had come for me. But what if he'd taken out his rage on Archer, who'd had no idea of my relationship status when we first met? What if Noah had done something heinous to Archer as a way to punish me?

"What have I done?" I breathed. When I turned around, Archer was gone.

I searched the darkness and spotted him in the yard.

Stumbling on the uneven ground like a blind horse, I made my way into the yard, where lights on the porch flicked on at our movement. My pace slowed when I realized he was going into the heat house.

At the entrance, I switched on the kitchen light and shut the door. Archer had tracked clumps of dried mud through the kitchen to the grey chaise where he was sitting.

After removing my boots by the door, I crossed the room and knelt before him. I took my time loosening his laces so I could easily pull his boots off without getting more dirt everywhere. Putting his shoes aside, I remained on the floor, engulfed by the silence.

Archer sniffed, his eyes red and cheeks wet. His emotional wound was beyond anything I could heal with consoling words. All this time, the man guiding me through the darkness was a victim himself.

"Even after it healed, it was painful—like stabbing electrical impulses. The Relic called it phantom pain. Sometimes it felt like my arm and hand were still there, and they itched." Archer glanced to the left and looked at where his arm used to be. "The alpha took my arm because everyone knew I was an archer—everyone knew how important that was in my life. I know people move on, but it wasn't just my arm that was severed that day—it was my identity."

I took his hand in mine and kissed it.

"My Packmaster kicked me out shortly after that. My friends cut me loose," he went on, his tone despondent. "They could have stuck around and cracked some jokes. Maybe I would have gotten over it. But they scattered faster than marbles down a hill."

"Was Krys in your pack?"

Archer cleared his throat. "No. I drifted for a while, and when he found me, I was in a bad way."

Watching Archer rub his temple forced me to my feet to fetch a glass of water. While in the kitchen, I took one of the sleeping pills from the bottle Salem had given me and returned to the couch.

"Here." I offered him the water and pill. "It made me a little sleepy, but it didn't knock me out. Since you're probably twice my weight, it won't be as strong, but it might help you relax."

Archer popped the pill, grimaced, and chugged the water. "That's awful. "

I gave a rueful smile before taking the glass into the kitchen and then returning.

"Krys saved my life, you know." Archer turned his gaze down and furrowed his brow. He lifted the torn fabric of my dress. "Did that wolf bite you?"

"No. I had on my boots." I ran my fingers through Archer's blond hair. "You keep calling those packmates your friends, but they weren't your friends. They knew the risky games they played. I would never put anyone I cared about in that situation."

"Yeah, but it was all me. I did it. They didn't get the punishment they deserved, but I'm over it."

I sat on his lap and wrapped my arm around him, my head resting against his left shoulder. "I'm glad you have someone like Krys in your life. Maybe I don't understand his belligerence, but if he saved you, that elevates him in my eyes. I'm sorry I didn't tell you the truth when we met. You deserved to know what you were walking into."

Silence had never felt so obtrusive as Archer heaved a sigh and wiped his face.

"Does Tak know your story?"

"Hell no. Do you think I'm crazy? The arm thing made it hard enough to prove myself, but what do you think he would do if he found out I seduced a Packmaster's mate on a bet? He'd never trust me around Hope. Packmasters don't take chances on people like me."

Of course. The pack meant everything to him, and having people who loved him must have filled an empty place inside his soul. Archer would never want to jeopardize that, and neither would I.

"I regret everything," he said, his voice quavering. "My life became twice as hard, and people were twice as cruel. Nobody admired me anymore. No one had sympathy either. And nobody helped me through it until Krys found me. I thought about killing myself."

I cradled his neck and eased back to meet his eyes.

"I don't feel that way anymore," he assured me. "But there was a moment when it was just… so damn hard. Krys gave me the kick in the ass I needed. He didn't give two shits about my situation, and maybe that helped me see the light so I could get on with my life. It took a long time to get used to not having an arm. Everything was an extra step, but Krys kept pushing me. I quit wearing laces and button-ups to make life easier. People take the little things for granted. Opening a jar takes effort, and I usually spill everything anyhow."

"I can't open a jar, and I have no excuse."

He wiped his eye, and exhaustion bled through in his demeanor, voice, and body language. "When I was younger, I wanted to be special. I wanted to be extraordinary. That's what archery did for me. Now I wish I could be like everyone else. It took a while before I felt like myself again. I started working out a lot, and that helped build up my confidence. You can't live in this world without knowing how to defend yourself. Finding a pack became a priority, but none of the locals wanted me because of my reputation. I tried to join a few in neighboring cities, but when they saw my arm, the door closed. Then one day, I saw Tak's ad online."

"And here you are."

"Yeah. Here I am." He stared vacantly ahead.

"Maybe it's fate. If we hadn't met, I'd still be trapped."

"I wish I could be a better man," he whispered before touching my hand, the pad of his thumb brushing over my knuckles. "I'll never trap you. And no matter what you decide to do, I'll always be there for you. But right now, I need to be alone. I'm sorry. "

My arms never wanted to let him go, but I managed to stand and give him space.

He rose to his feet and wiped his eyes. "I'll check on you tomorrow and see when you want to leave."

"If you're not up for it, maybe someone else can drive."

Archer shook his head. "I keep my promises."

I wrapped my arms around him. "If you need anything, even if you just want someone to sit quietly with you, I'm here."

"You might feel different in the morning, after you've had a chance to think about everything I've told you. And believe me, you'll think about it. But thanks." He kissed the top of my head. "Good night, Cici."

After he collected his shoes and left the heat house, I whispered, "Good night, Archer."