Chapter 115

How did I touch him? My hands hovered over Killian’s unconscious body. On our dining table. With blood puddling on the floor.

Lane had torn off Killian’s shirt, and it was so much worse than I expected. The deep bruises and cuts, the stabs and rapid breathing. He looked so broken. It terrified me. But Lane insisted he’d be fine. He just needed time to heal now that he had his wolf back.

Which confused me. I couldn’t imagine why Killian wanted his wolf separated from him, even though Lane had explained it three times over.

“You’re the first hunter,” Declan said once again. He paced the length of our living room, his attention on Lane as he did. “You’re thousands of years old, and you have magic.”

“Doesn’t matter how many fucking times you say it, it won’t fucking change,” Lane muttered. His focus remained solely on Killian. His touch was surprisingly delicate as he stitched shut the two stab wounds. “Your whole family history is tainted with the blood of my ancestors. The three ancestors that migrated to America weren’t fucking saints, you know. They turned any human who they came in contact with. But at least they did something about helping them. Aodhán… Aodhán was a fucking dick with a goddamn agenda. He turned people for riches and turned people for sport. But he didn’t do a fucking thing about it, letting loose hundreds of feral wolves across an entire continent.”

“That’s awful,” I whispered. No matter how unbelievable the story was, the scenario was horrific. Chancing it, I carefully took Killian’s hand in mine. It was the only thing I could think to do.

“That’s putting it fucking mildly,” he agreed. “It was a fucking plague—one no one had a fucking chance of fighting. I tried to stay out of it. I hunkered down and just kept me and mine fucking safe until I couldn’t.”

He faltered, his hands pausing. I could take a million and one guesses of what that meant, but I knew he’d never tell me. Some secrets just haunted us forever.

“I had magic.” Lane cleared his throat. “I’d had magic for a long fucking time before this shit happened, so I created the hunters. A breed of—”

“We know what they are,” Nolan interrupted. “You created them?”

“You believe in the fucking Guardian of Wolves, but you don’t believe that I created the hunters?” Lane shot him a look, and Nolan blushed.

“How do you know that?”

“I make it my business to know things,” he replied. “Experimenting with magic is my fucking thing. It’s why I could separate Killian from his wolf. Augmenting existing breeds is my fucking specialty.”

“Augmenting?” Declan repeated. “As in you experiment on paranormal creatures.”

“Sure. Call it what you fucking want. I only care about the end result.”

“And my brother let you experiment on him?”

“It was his fucking idea,” Lane said. He tied off the second round of stitches and set aside the supplies. “I’m still working the kinks out of it.”

“I don’t believe you.” Declan stopped pacing to stare. “And I don’t believe that he’d be friends with you. A hunter. Not after he…”

“Not after he killed the hunter in Boston?” he finished. A wicked grin turned his lips, and I shuddered. There was something horrifically dark about Lane—something he didn’t bother hiding. “Who do you fucking think sent him to Boston in the first place? I’ve been exterminating my own kind for decades, but I can’t do it myself. But my team? They can do whatever the hell they want. Killian has scraped the fucking surface of what I’m willing to do to stop our world from bleeding into the human world.”

“So… you’re a good guy,” Nolan said, making Lane laugh—the sound harsh.

“Boy, when I show up, the fucking devil himself hides,” Lane replied. He unrolled his bloodied sleeves and worked on unbuttoning his shirt. “But I’m fucking honest about what I am. I don’t play fucking games. And if I’m going to kill you, I’ll make sure you fucking know why. That makes the difference.”

“That’s not reassuring,” Declan muttered. I had to agree.

“Do you know why I respect Killian?” he asked. I shrugged. I wasn’t sure I knew anything anymore when it came to my husband. “Every fighter has a point of no return. It’s a line drawn in the fucking sand—one they carefully track. It’s the point where they stop. They give up. They turn back, regroup, and try again no matter what the fucking cost is. No matter how many lives are lost. Killian doesn’t have one. He never gives up where protecting others are concerned, no matter what it costs him. Even if it costs him his life. You can’t train that. You can’t mold that. It’s raw instinct.”

My heart ached at those words. Was that really a strength?

“I have a six-person team,” he continued. His head ducked slightly to catch my gaze. “I have six people who work for me—ones I’ve ripped out of time who are truly impervious to death—and none of them have the spirit your husband does. You should be proud of him.”

“I don’t know if it’s pride I feel knowing my husband would die so easily,” I told him honestly. Not considering everything I knew about his struggles with suicide.

“Not many would give as much as he gives for others,” Lane murmured. “That’s something to be damn proud of.”

I made a sound but said nothing else. We’d never agree on it. I’d rather be a selfish woman with her husband at home with her than a widow of a man lost saving someone. Why couldn’t someone else chase down the violent paranormal creatures and nearly die doing so?

I studied Killian’s profile, taking in all the tiny details I loved about him all over again, and sighed. I knew why it couldn’t be someone else. Because Killian cared with his whole damn heart about everyone, even when he tried to pretend he didn’t. It was just who he was. He’d give the last breath in his body if that was what it’d take.

I didn’t have to love it, but I would support him because I loved him.

“And you’re sure she’s okay?” Declan asked Sam a second time on the phone. He sighed from his spot on the couch. It’d been hours of hiding out in our house as we waited for Killian to wake up. Admittedly, after reuniting with his wolf, he was healing like Lane said he would. It wasn’t fast enough in my opinion, but it was better than nothing. Declan chuckled. “Yeah, well, tell her I’ll be back soon, and I’ll try to get Killian to come back with me. Nolan too.”

“I’m staying if they stay,” Nolan interjected quickly.

“Just keep me updated, okay?” Declan ignored him, pausing to listen to Sam before hanging up.

“Is Maeve okay?” I said when he did.

“Yeah.” He sighed and ran his hands over his face. “She’s livid as fuck, but she’s doing just fine. The barrier line has been quiet.”

“Good,” Lane replied. He waltzed into the room like he owned the place—shirtless and in a pair of Killian’s pants. At the look on my face, he said, “Mine were bloody. It was these or a pair of your leggings.”

“Of course,” I whispered because that made sense. He had been covered in Killian’s blood. The lack of clothes put his massive tattoo on display. Hundreds upon hundreds of tiny stars decorated his shoulders, upper arms, part of his chest, and his entire back disappearing past the waistline of his pants. They created swirls and wispy designs when lined up. It was truly a fascinating design. “What does the tattoo mean? Or do you just like stars?”

“Humans are nothing more than stardust,” he told me honestly. “And when we die, we become stardust all over again. Each star represents a person I’ve killed.”

Oh. Stunned silence was an understatement. There had to be… there were too many on his body to count. And those were just the ones I could see. Across the room, Nolan’s head cocked to the side as he stared hard at Lane.

“You’ll never be able to count them all, kid.” Lane chuckled as he crossed the room. “The answer is two thousand, eight hundred, and seventy-nine.”

“Jesus fuck,” Declan muttered.

“I told you I wasn’t a good man,” he reminded us. His fingers touched the curve of Killian’s neck. “His heart sounds better. He should be—”

“Where the fuck are you?” The front door slammed open, startling all of us. Lane quickly moved around the edge of the table, Declan and Nolan were on their feet fast, and I gripped Killian’s hand tighter. However, all defensiveness fizzled when Gabby stormed in.

“You came!” I exclaimed.

“I hear about this bitch opening fire on the fucking pack house barrier, and when I get there, I find out you’re here?” she demanded, completely ignoring my question. “Who the fuck thought you being here was a good fucking idea? Do you know how fucking dangerous it is right now?”

“That’d be me,” Lane cut in.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Gabby demanded. Without hesitation, my sister crossed the distance between them, chin up and ready to fight him. I sighed. My short-tempered sister raging on an ancient magical man was exactly what this whole situation needed.

“Gabby—”

“Be quiet,” she snapped, never once looking at me. Yeah, I wasn’t about to try. I was too tired to play mediator. They could handle themselves without killing one another. Hopefully. “She belongs at the fucking house, where it’s safe!”

“And if we weren’t here, he’d be dead.” Lane gestured to Killian.

“I don’t fucking care what happens to him,” she retorted. A vicious growl tore out of her throat, but he was undeterred. Instead, he crossed his arms and smirked. It only pissed her off more. “I care what happens to my sister, and you put her in danger!”

“You don’t scare me, little wolf.”

“I should rip your fucking throat out,” she threatened.

“Please, try.” His smirk turned into a full-blown grin of amusement. “I’d love to see what you can do with those teeth of yours.”

Another growl rumbled through her.

“Tone it down, Gabby,” Declan called from the couch, his voice tired. “He’s not one of the good guys, but he’s on our fucking side. You couldn’t kill him, even if you wanted to. He’s immortal. God, the shit I find myself saying.”

His status as a pack leader was enough to quell her anger. Well, put a leash on it. There was no stopping Gabby’s anger once she got started.

“I don’t give a fuck who you are, and I don’t give a fuck if you’re immortal.” Gabby stepped closer to him. “If you put my sister in danger again, I’ll hunt you down and find a way to fucking kill you.”

Oh, Gabby.I didn’t have words to describe how emotional my sister’s protectiveness was, even if there wasn’t a single thing she could do against Lane. It was the thought that counted.

But I also didn’t miss the weird little stare-down between Lane and Gabby. It wasn’t just the intense eye contact. His gaze flicked to her mouth, she openly checked him out head-to-toe. It was charged and inappropriate all things considered.

The tension between them was broken as Killian bolted upright in a panic. I stumbled back from my spot, nearly getting hit in the process. His hands lashed out, but Lane grabbed them quickly. They struggled with one another.

“She’s going to kill them!” Killian exclaimed wildly. “She’s going to kill them! She’s going to kill them! She’s going to—”

“I know, I know,” Lane said over him. With minimal force, he guided Killian back down on the table.

“She’s going to kill them all… she’s going to kill… all of them… all of them…” he babbled in a frenzy. “The curse… the curse…”

“I know,” Lane assured him. “I know. Breathe… just breathe…”

Deep gasps faded to steady breaths as Killian fell unconscious again. I returned to his side, brushing the matted hair from his face.

“What curse?” Nolan asked before anyone else could.

“It’s the entire fucking reason the hunter is here,” Lane answered quietly. He walked his fingers over the stitches he’d put in, checking them. Thankfully, none were broken.

“What does that mean?” Declan demanded.

“She’s here to kill all of you,” he said. “The Byrne line. She’s here to kill the six of you, and then she’ll kill your cousins—Chloe and Camden, Cillian Byrne’s daughters.”

“We know who they are,” he replied. “Why?”

“Because I cursed your ancestors at the height of the war when I made it my mission to kill Aodhán. If all the Byrnes in one generation die, then the entire species dies.” He said the words so simply as if they didn’t carry the weight of our whole existence in them. I stared at him at a loss for words.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Declan snapped.

“It means that she plans to exterminate all wolves around the world by killing the eight of you.” Lane looked up, meeting his angry stare. “If she does that, wolves will no longer exist. Hundreds of thousands of wolves around the fucking world will drop dead the minute the last of you dies. There’s a reason the Byrne line is required to have children as a part of your duty to the pack. Your ancestors here in America were warned of my coming and my curse by a fucking witch I knew. Pain in my fucking ass… she helped them design the pack laws that you grew up with. Your children don’t ensure the survival of the Byrne pack. They ensure the survival of an entire species. And as none of you have children… if she kills all of you…”

“Undo it,” Nolan cut in. “Undo the curse.”

“Dark magic doesn’t fucking work like that, kid,” Lane told him. “I couldn’t undo it, even if I fucking wanted to.”

“Do you want to?” Why I was asking was beyond me.

“If I’m being honest, no.” Well, at least he was honest. “The Byrnes have been peaceful wolves for decades, but what if that fucking changes? If it does, I like to know I have a contingency plan for dealing with the lot of you before people get hurt. I think you, of all people, should understand what kind of damage wolves can do.”

He leveled his gaze on Declan. Without saying anything, we all knew Lane was referencing Raven. The implication of everything he was saying hung heavy in the air. It felt very much like inviting a fox into the hen house except we were the hens and Lane was the fox. We were relying on the man to help protect us, but there was a very good chance that one day, the man would also be our undoing.