Could I?
That was the position I’d put Callum in. He was so old, so powerful that it was easy to forget that he had emotions, that his pack mattered to him, that there were people—other than me—who he loved.
“Three hundred years,” Callum said softly. “She’s fought by my side for three hundred years, Bryn. I wouldn’t see her dead on a theory, and neither would you.”
Three hundred years? Sora had been a part of Callum’s life longer than the United States had been a country, longer than any human would ever live.
And still, if it wasn’t just a theory, if he were sure that this would work and there was no other way—he would have done it. That was what it meant to be alpha.
That was what I was becoming, even now.
“You wouldn’t have to.” Lake came to stand next to the bed, and I realized she was talking to Callum as much as to me. “If it were Griff doing the killing, if we thought me dying might make a whit of difference, Bryn, you wouldn’t have to kill me.”
I read between the lines to what Lake wasn’t saying.
If it had been her, if her death was the way to stop the monster, she would have killed herself.
“This isn’t your choice,” Lake told me. “It’s not his,” she continued, jerking her head toward the phone. “You two don’t just get to sit there and talk it out and decide that she lives, no matter how many other people have to die. You don’t get to keep this from her.”
I realized suddenly how Callum and I must have sounded, talking about Sora like she had no stake in this. I wondered if this was what being alpha would ultimately turn me into—a person who was so used to making hard decisions that she assumed every one that came along was hers to make.
“Bryn.” The voice on the other side of the line wasn’t Callum’s, not anymore.
“Sora.” For the first time, saying her name didn’t take me back to the night when she’d beaten me. I didn’t see her driving her fist into my rib cage. I saw her the million times before that, taking care of me like I was her own.
I saw Devon—the way she looked at him, the way that, once upon a time, he’d looked at her.
“You’re sure the killer is my brother?” Sora sounded younger than I’d ever heard her—like Lake when she’d realized that Griffin was here, that he was real.
I thought of the bodies, the blood, the breath on my neck. “I’m sure,” I told her.
Sora didn’t hesitate. She didn’t stutter, she didn’t even breathe. “If the only way to stop him is to kill me, then you kill me.” She paused, and I could picture her sharp features settling into a mask, every bit as unreadable as Callum’s. “I’d prefer not to have to kill myself.”
But she would—that was what she was telling me. If one of us didn’t kill her, Sora would kill herself. She’d die to stop her brother.
“I’ll meet you at the border,” she said. “Three hours.”
That didn’t give her much time to say good-bye—to Callum, to her husband, to Dev.
“Sora—” I wasn’t sure what to say, but it didn’t matter. The line was dead.
She’d already hung up.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
THE WEREWOLVES IN THE ROOM WERE SILENT—they’d heard every word Sora, Callum, and I had said. They knew what was coming. Jed and Caroline were another story.
Chase told them, so I didn’t have to. He was brief, to the point, and calm, but inside, I could hear him howling—not for Sora or Devon or all the things that might never be.
For me.
I could feel him thinking about what this would do to me. On the other side of the pack-bond, he was thinking about the future: about years and years of being alpha chipping away at everything else I was. About everything I would have to give up and everything I’d already given up.
If it wasn’t one thing, it would be another, year after year, for as long as I lived—Lucas had just been the beginning. Lucas had been the easy part, and that had almost killed me.
This was Devon’s mother.
I stopped listening to Chase’s thoughts, because I didn’t want to know where they would lead. This was hard enough without knowing that Devon, Callum, and I weren’t the only ones who would pay the cost—that as long as Chase was with me, whatever hurt me would hurt him, too.
“She wants you to kill her.” Caroline’s voice was as calm as Chase’s, but there was an edge to it, brittle and sharp.
“She doesn’t want to kill herself,” I corrected, easing myself off the bed and ignoring the constant throbbing in my shoulder. “She shouldn’t have to.”
Neither should you. Chase’s words bled their way into my mind despite the barrier I’d thrown up. I met his eyes and then shook my head.
Not now.
I couldn’t do this with him now.
“Griff?” Lake’s voice broke into our silent exchange, and I whipped my gaze around to Griffin. His jaw was clenched, his eyes glittering with equal parts concentration and rage. Of the duo, Lake was taller. She was the one with a temper, but in that moment, Griffin looked dangerous—freckles, light lashes,
and all.
“He’s here,” he said. “I can feel him. He’s trying—”
Griff’s eyes narrowed. His mouth settled into a thin line, then his upper lip pulled backward to reveal gleaming white canines.
“Not gonna happen,” he said through clenched teeth, sounding so much like Lake that I would have known they were twins, even if I were a total stranger.
Griffin glimmered—there was no other word for it. His skin became paler, almost incandescent. His hands curled into fists. His eyes gleamed with unnatural light—and then, just as suddenly as the change had fallen over him, it was gone.
“I take it you won?” Lake asked, arching one eyebrow.
Griffin nodded. “For now.”
“He’ll keep trying.” Maddy had been silent since I got off the phone, but when she spoke, it was with utter certainty. “It’s all about control with him. He hates losing, but he’s patient. He’ll try again and again and again, and you have no guarantee that you’ll get to Sora before he gets to you.”
I saw where this was going, even if the others did not. Maddy and I were too much alike, and in her shoes, I knew exactly what I would have done.
“You have a plan,” I said.
She nodded. “You only need a few hours. Maybe Griffin can hold him off that long, and maybe he can’t, but I know I can.”