Page 43 of Awry
He curls his lip at me, stepping into my space and lowering his voice.“Either she’s a fake, an impostor, or she faked her death thirteen years ago to get away from us and is pretending she doesn’t know us.Which would you prefer it be?”
I blink at him for a moment, almost feeling sorry for him.“Alive, Reck.I’d rather she be alive.”
He jerks away from me, scowling like I’ve deliberately misheard him or misunderstood him.I haven’t.
“You’d rather she be dead,” I say.It isn’t a question.It’s a realization.“Those are her two choices, either with you or dead.”
“I was never her first fucking choice,” he says, as if that’s some sort of counterpoint.
It isn’t.
Because it was never about firsts between us four.It was only and always about forevers, beyond death.We were woven from the fabric of the universe, our essences, our souls, entwined around hers, around her.Only truly whole when together.
I can only stare at him, stupidly dumbfounded.
Reck scoffs at me.Then he spins and strides into the motel room.
I have to follow.A part of me wants to walk away.
A part of me already knows I’m not going to like the truth that’s about to be torn free from a moment in our lives I thought long buried.
I takea long break from the fucking tangled situation, contemplating the ramifications of just walking away with at least a section of my soul still intact.The part that survived losing Zaya only because I had other obligations to my family, my siblings specifically, and to the Outcast.
I focused on being the best brother and the best enforcer, then lieutenant, that I could be.I traveled then, and fleshed out my education.Rought is mostly self-taught in his tech skills — school never was his thing, or working with anyone other than family for that matter.But I actually have a fucking MBA and speak three languages— English, Spanish, and Cantonese.And at the same time I was studying abroad, I reinforced relationships with other allied shifter clubs.Then I came back to help run the club and the pack.Just the chance that Zaya Gage is actually alive changes —
Nothing, I tell myself.It changes nothing.
I check my phone, fielding updates and answering a few more messages, including a text from my uncle demanding a phone call.I text Presh’s ETA to him instead.
Then, unable to avoid it any longer, I step into the room, interrupting a conversation in progress.Rought is seated on the edge of the bed, facing the door with Zaya unconscious and cradled in his arms.His currently gold-rimmed eyes are riveted to her face.Her breathing is shallow but steady.
Reck is pacing, doing a lot of gesturing.Doc has cleaned the wound on Zaya’s head and placed a healing patch on the cut.She’s setting out more of those revitalizing brews on the far bedside table.Muta is curled up on Zaya’s stomach — all nearly ten feet of him now — but his wide, flat head is raised, following Reck’s pacing motions.
“Think you can take me, little brother?”Reck says mockingly.
“I was literally born to be her guardian.”Rought doesn’t bother to look away from Zaya, so the insult is clear without even needing the words to back it.“So yeah, I can take you.”
Reck takes a threatening step forward.But before I can intercede, before I can get between my brothers, Rought laughs harshly.
Muta’s tail vibrates.
Rought finally looks up at our older brother.They really couldn’t be any more different.Reck, I’m constantly informed by many of his admirers when they’re drunk or stoned, is deliciously dark.Specifically, his hair, eyes, and olive skin.He’s saved from being too pretty only by his sheer assholeness.Rought’s hair is currently dark blond, but it lightens under the summer sun.His skin is naturally tanned, and when not edged by the gold of his beast, his eyes are a bright blue-green.Rought was, literally, a sun-kissed golden child while we’d been growing up.
I fall right in the middle, looking more like Presh.At least when her hair isn’t dyed in a pastel rainbow and her eyes aren’t transforming into the purple hue that marks her as awry.Also, I’m some part Asian.How much or what region my blood ancestors hailed from, I don’t know.
I’ve got brown hair, hazel eyes, and lighter skin than either of my brothers.And though I’m bigger than both — taller and wider through the shoulders — if it came to it, Reck really could wipe the floor with both of us.Probably at the same time.
Because it’s been a long time since Reck has cared who he hurts to get what he wants.He spent too many years in our father’s dubious care and was heading in that direction even before falling for Zaya the first time.
The first time?
Fuck.
That thought implies there’ll be a second time.But there is no second time when the other party is dead.
Rought holds Reck’s gaze, fierce, forthright, and more … alive than I’ve seen him in almost thirteen years.Reck wasn’t exaggerating about the two years of suicide watch.He just wasn’t the one doing the watching.
It was Presh, I suddenly remember.Presh’s first summer visit that finally pulled Rought back from that brink.
