Page 36 of Tomlin

She struggled uselessly as he dragged her away from the burning building, then turned her back towards it, forcing her to watch as flames engulfed her home, her work. Tears of grief and rage streamed down her face.

“Why are you doing this?” she choked out.

She expected to see him looking triumphant, but instead his eyes glinted with a pain that mirrored her own.

“I had to watch too,” he snarled. “When the humans burned my home. My family.”

The heat from the inferno scorched Etta’s skin, but she couldn’t look away. Her precious lab, her sanctuary, reduced to ash and embers. All her research, gone in minutes.

“How does it feel?” Finnar hissed in her ear. “To lose everything?”

The pain of her loss threatened to consume her, but at least there was no one inside. What if someone had been in there? What if Tomlin had been in there?

“Your family,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from the smoke. “What happened to them?”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, she thought he might lash out. Instead, his voice came out low and raw.

“Humans,” he spat. “They came in the night. We had done nothing to them, but they feared what they didn’t understand.”

She couldn’t help but think of Tomlin, of the loneliness and fear he had endured simply for being different. How many others had suffered similar fates?

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice shaking. “No one deserves that kind of pain.”

His eyes snapped to hers, the slightest hint of doubt in that fierce gaze.

“Your pity means nothing to me,” he snarled, but the venom in his voice had lessened.

She shook her head.

“It’s not pity. It’s understanding. This-” she gestured to the burning lab with her free hand, “This is devastating. But it’s just things. I can’t imagine losing the people I love.”

For a brief moment, his mask of anger slipped, revealing a glimpse of the grief that lay beneath. She saw a reflection of what Tomlin might have become, had he allowed his pain to twist into vengeance.

“Revenge won’t bring them back,” she said gently. “It won’t heal the hurt.”

Her heart pounded as his grip tightened again and his eyes hardened.

“It’s your turn now,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Your turn to pay for what the humans have done to me.”

She watched in horror as he flexed his hand, long dark claws emerging from his fingertips.Tomlin, she cried silently as theVultor raised his hand and she closed her eyes, waiting for those vicious claws to reach her.

But nothing happened.

Endless seconds ticked by before she forced herself to open her eyes. He was staring at her, agony and confusion etched across his face.

“I can’t,” he whispered, more to himself than to her. His hand trembled as he released her arm. “I thought… I thought this would make it better. But it won’t. Nothing will ever make it better.”

He took a step back, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

“Go,” he said, his voice barely audible over the crackling flames. “Leave this place. Leave me.”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, unsure if she was apologizing for his loss or for her own inability to help him.

He didn’t respond. Instead he turned away, his big body silhouetted against the flames consuming her lab, his posture so eloquent of grief and despair that her heart ached. She hesitated a moment longer, then backed slowly away from him.

She’d just reached the edge of the corral when she heard the thunder of hooves approaching. She turned to see Tomlin galloping towards her, his eyes fixed on the burning building, his face a mask of fury and anguish. Before his horse had even come to a full stop, he flung himself from the saddle, knocking the Vultor to the ground.

CHAPTER 19

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