Page 136 of Hawke

“Wolves, that’s enough.” Locke puffed out another puff of smoke from a new cigarette and stepped between us. “Don’t care if you both have mates, but there won’t be any fighting in this cabin on my watch. We have enough dead bodies here. Now let Journey figure out what’s wrong.”

Even if Locke wasn’t technically alpha status, we treated him as such. A broken soul couldn’t carry an alpha title, especially with no luna beside him.

“I know what’s wrong,” I whispered to them both. “Her wolf is refusing to release herself. I think her wolf failed a previous shift in another life.” I tugged on my beard.

Grim’s face fell. He no longer stood in a defensive position. He turned to his mate, who stared up at him with a solemn nod.

I heard Delilah’s cry and felt my heart leap into my throat as I rushed to her, lifting her into my arms.

We all sat in silence for a time while Journey continued to mutter to herself. She touched various points on Delilah’s body. Journey’s eyes glowed, and her lips moved in a sequence of patterns that no one understood.

As time passed, people moved around the room, carrying in bags from their bikes, most likely filled with clothes, weapons, and food. Locke muttered to Sizzle and Bear, pointing to various areas in the room, then circling his finger in the air around the cabin and pointing to other men to take the bodies outside.

My lip curled into a smile, and nodded to Locke, who gazed at me for approval.

Me. He looked at me for approval.

Fuck, he was going to make me get damned emotional.

“Fuck you,”I mouthed to him.

He threw me the bird and smirked, leaning up against the door frame of the cabin.

I don’t know what the fuck I’d do without the bastard.

Tajah broke me out of my thoughts. Thank the fucking goddess, when she stepped out of the dark corner of the room and walked toward Bram.

Tajah couldn’t take her eyes off of Bram for a long time. And it seemed she found her confidence. She took slow, calculating steps toward him. He could barely keep his eyes open, until he lifted his head and looked up at the captivating witch before him.

“Master Bram, is that you?” Tajah mumbled. She bent over, her long hair brushing against his exposed arm.

As she moved, the leather pants she wore made a soft groan, and the dark trench cloak she wore kept her beloved purple corset out of sight.

Bram peered up at her, his eyes narrowing in concentration until they widened in shock.

“No, really? Tajah, is that you?” He nudged Journey’s foot. She nodded for him to leave, and he followed Tajah into the kitchen to give them privacy and let Journey concentrate.

“Can you tell me the spell to change the cabin, and I will make it accommodating to fit all of us? I just can’t recall it. That way we can get you resting again? You look like you need it.” Tajah’s hand rested on Bram’s.

He clenched his jaw, his fingers coming away from his face stained with his own blood. “Ah, Tajah, that’s a lot of magic.”

“It’s my turn to take care of you, Master Bram,” Tajah whispered. “Let me take over, now. It seemsyouare the one in need of a little care.”

Bram’s eyes glistened, the salty wetness of unshed tears coating his lashes.

Delilah held her breath, watching the scene unfold; I could feel her warmth in her gentle grip on my hand. It was such an intimate moment, one we shouldn’t watch.

Bram had so many secrets. He was one of the most complicated warlocks I’d ever known. But he wasn’t alone anymore. Whatever connections he had with my family, my father, made him permanently tied to us. We would not get rid of him so easily.

Not that I wanted to.

“Is Bram like your godfather or fun uncle, or wait, a funcle or something now?”Delilah asked over our mind-link, with a wobbly smile. It didn’t reach her eyes, but she was trying so damned hard.

Her exhaustion was evident, and the tiny ways she tried to hide it were futile. I knew better. I knew how the bond worked. Besides, her skin was pale, sweat dotted her nose, and her breathing was labored. I could scold her for trying to lie, but I let her get away with it so she could try to forget the pain.

“A funcle?” I asked playfully.

“Yeah, a fun uncle that gets you into trouble? Like he spikes the drinks at parties? Holds out his finger and asks you to pull it?”she giggled.

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