“Then what do we do? How do we get out of this?”
I look back toward the building, toward the broken windows marking the room where it all went down. How do we get out of this? I’d like to know the answer to that question.
Forrest can’t kill her. I’m not even sure it would be a good idea to let him get anywhere near her. I’ve only ever heard of the possibility of breaking a fated bond, but I’ve never seen the damage it can cause until tonight. What else might happen if her wolf senses the presence of his and goes crazy? What would the magic do this time? It’s better for him to stay as far away from her as possible.
But facts are facts; she’s going to tell somebody what happened here. Even if it isn’t done out of spite, she might describe what she felt to a wolf wiser and more experienced than she is. They’ll know immediately what she’s been through, and it wouldn’t take more than a cursory description to pinpoint Forrest and me. I doubt she could tell the difference between us.
Her pack will know one of the sons of the Silver Shadow alpha broke their fated bond. That’s all that matters in the end. It will mean war on top of the war we’re already facing. No way we would survive both.
It’s clear. She has to die.
But who says Forrest has to be the one to do it?
I’m not my brother. The bond didn’t exist between us.
Just because he can’t kill her doesn’t mean I can’t.
9
LILI
It’s not until I hit the floor that I wake up. It’s not the sort of thing that happens gradually, like when I wake from sleep. No easing back into consciousness, no slow awareness of my surroundings, and the fact that I was asleep only a second ago. No, this hits right away like a speeding train plowing into me and tearing me to pieces.
A few things are clear right away. One, I’m in my room now. Somebody must’ve taken me out of the hall after… whatever happened that I’m still not completely clear on. I was in bed but fell out for some reason.
Two, I’m naked, but hardly a clean patch of skin is visible as I look down the length of my body. I’m covered in dried blood. I reek of it, and my skin is sticky and nasty. Whose blood is it? Mine? My heart races sickeningly as I search my body for wounds, but beneath the caked-on blood, my skin is smooth. Unbroken.
So, I’m not the one who bled like a stuck pig. Who did?
That leads to point number three and the memories it unlocks.
I killed someone. Oh, god, I still taste the blood. His blood. Dexter’s.
I killed Dexter tonight.
My stomach heaves, and I barely manage to throw myself over the wastebasket next to the bed before I puke my guts up. Every time I heave, memories flash and make me heave again. Tearing through his flesh with my claws and marveling at how easy it was to destroy him. Relishing my strength. Biting his throat. Savoring the taste of his blood while he shrieked and begged his so-called friends for help.
I did that. I tore out his throat, and I loved every second of it. I heave again and again until nothing is left. Until my ribs and my back ache from the force of my body giving back everything it consumed tonight as if that will rid me of the guilt from what I’ve done.
But it should be worse than this, shouldn’t it? I should be practically incapacitated after the beatings from Hannah and Dexter. Hannah drove her heel into my side, between my ribs. There should be a hole in my side like there was before. I never heal this quickly.
My wounds have completely healed, thanks to the appearance of my wolf. She finally showed up. And now I’m just like everybody else.
Only I’m not because I killed one of us. One of our pack members. My stomach clenches again, but this time, all I do is curl up in a ball on the floor, close my eyes, and wish as hard as I can to go back. Things were awful before this—terrible and painful and lonely—but at least I knew what was happening. I knew how to navigate things.
The door opens, and I see my future laid out before me. Exile. Banishment. No way my father can protect me now, the way I know he has for so long. There isn’t an excuse he could make for what I’ve done. The law is the law, and he can’t be accused of twisting it to suit his personal needs.
I barely have time to scramble away from the swinging door and the light streaming in from the hallway before a soft, concerned voice rises above my wordless gasping. “It’s only me, Lili. I’m here to help you.”