Page 27 of Fierce Claim

I feel sick.

I know that Mathew has been targeted many times and I’ve seen him kill people plenty of times too, and it’s not like my hands are clean in that department either. But I had no idea about this. I had no idea he was keeping trophies of some of his kills.

Killing people and keeping trophies feels like two very different things. Two very, very different things.

And now I’m the weird one for being uncomfortable with it?

“I’m sorry.” I back out of the room. “I can’t do this.”

I flee downstairs, nearly automatically going to the garden, until I remember the blood stains in the office and I run in the other direction instead, out the house, towards the fields that surround it.

It’s not like I don’t know what kind of world we live in, how dangerous this world is, how none of us have clean hands, but that’s still different from hiding trophies of your kills behind some suits…

It just is.

13

Vera

I stare at the bedroom door that Jorge just stormed out of, his pheromones filled with discomfort and something that seemed like fear. I don’t know what the problem is, but it doesn’t feel right. The way he reacted when Mathew confirmed that the weapons were ‘souvenirs’, I don’t really understand it.

“Mathew?” Caleb leans against the doorway as he looks us over. He looks disappointed somehow, which is making my insides even more queasy. He seems to be aware of something that I missed, and I don’t like it.

“Yes?” Mathew is still holding my wrist, his grip tight as his eyes shoot between Caleb and the bedroom door.

“Are they clean?” Caleb comes over, still looking disappointed but he’s sending out calming pheromones. I feel like a kid about to be scolded even though his attention is on Mathew and not on me.

“Yes. They can’t be traced.” Mathew’s voice is soft, his head down, his movements unsure.

“Good.” Caleb takes a deep breath and seems to relax. “Now, why are they just hanging there gathering dust? Couldn’t you find a better place to store them?”

Mathew lets out a surprised laugh and his grip on my wrist loosens. “I was sixteen when I came up with it. I was a fucking dumb teenager who thought this was ‘cool’ to do, it felt right out of a movie. I’d kind of forgotten they were even here.”

“If that’s the case, can you pack them up and store them somewhere in the training building? They’ll be a lot safer there. We don’t need even more weapons up here, especially ones we’re not going to use.”

Mathew huffs and then nods. “That’s probably the better option, yes.”

I quickly grab one of the knives. “If they’re going to be packed away anyway, I want to keep this one.” It’s slim and not too long and as I’m holding it, it fits my hand perfectly.

“Vera...” Caleb sighs, but his eyes are soft, not serious at all. “I’m pretty sure you’ve already claimed multiple of Mathew’s knives. You don’t need another one.”

“But this one is almost exactly the same as the one I lost when Derrick and the others took us. It’s the least he can do.” I flutter my lashes at Mathew, who grins before he gives me a kiss.

“Sure, you can keep that. Just make sure to clean it and maybe sharpen it before you put it to use.” He wraps his arm around me, nuzzling my side.

“Then I’ll take this.” Riley lifts one of the guns from the boards. “I’ve been trying to get my hands on one of these for years, but they don’t come on the market very often. The previous owner must have been pretty rich, if they could afford one.”

“Possibly.” Mathew laughs. “I honestly have very little memory of who each one belonged to. Not that most guns for hire are very keen to give you their name or the name of their employer before they try to off you.”

“Well then, maybe—” I reach out for one of the smaller guns, but Caleb steps in front of me, giving me a pointed look. “Fiiine.” I sigh dramatically. “I’ll just keep the knife.”

“Good.” Then he turns to Mathew. “Now, can you pack them up and store them somewhere safe in the training building? And can you then go talk to Jorge and see how upset he really is?”

Mathew’s face falls as he nods and starts to look for a box to transport the weapons in. I’m pretty sure neither of those things are really what he wants to be doing right now. Not that we were making much progress in the library either, but at least it’s not cleaning.

I go over to one of the drawers in the bedroom and pull out a knife maintenance kit. The knife looks fine but has clearly not been used in a long time and I’m curious to see what state it’s in. A quick glance tells me that the blade might be dull but there don’t seem to be any nicks in it, so I should be able to get it in good condition pretty easily.

As I carefully start to clean the blade, my mind keeps returning to the way Jorge looked when Mathew said that the weapons were from people who tried to kill him. How horrified he’d seemed.

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