Page 178 of Fangs
“What’s goin’ on?” he asked.
“Nothin’.”
He exhaled heavily through his nose. “Lemme guess. You got in a fight with Wolf?”
I chewed my lip and didn’t answer.
“Look, you probably already know this, but your brother does not handle feelin’ helpless very well.”
I turned and started flipping through my notebook to see if I needed to restock any of my tinctures.
“He’s worried about you,” Tuck added after a few seconds.
“I can take care of myself,” I muttered, trying not to think about how I’d completely fallen apart and begged for help last night when I was covered in blood.
“Wolf used to say the same thing,” Tuck sounded amused. “Then he’d get a dead-end lead on you and end up gettin’ shitfaced and starting a brawl.”
I tried not to think about how I’d gotten shitfaced and tried to fight Brimstone.
“When I first met him, it was right after Moab. Scar told you about that, right?” I gave a short nod, and he continued. “He was real fucked up, and not just physically. He thought you were dead; he’d been shot three times, and the grief and trauma of it made him lose the ability to speak. I’d heardabouthim but never met him. Scar and I go way back, and I was between jobs, so she asked if I wanted to join her new crew with the infamous Wolf Cutler.”
I shot a startled glance at him, and he grinned. “Yeah, your brother made quite the name for himself. I’ve never met anyone who could track a person down so fast. I was a cocky bastard and made the mistake of underestimatin’ him once I saw he was all bandaged up and couldn’t speak. We went out to a bar one night, and some guys started tryin’ to pick a fight with him. I tried to step in and help, and they thought I was his bodyguard.” I must have looked confused because he paused, then explained, “In our line of work, the strongest survive. He had a reputation of bein’ dangerous, but helookedweak—covered in bandages and unable to speak. If hehadhired a bodyguard, it would mean hewasweak, and whoever took him down could take his place.”
My fingers had stilled on the pages of my notebook as I listened. These stories they were sharing about Wolf brought up so many complicated emotions I couldn’t even begin to sort through.
“Your brother went outside and beat the shit out of all three men with one arm in a sling and without saying a damn word.” Tuck huffed a laugh. “It was one of the most badass things I’ve ever seen, and people in New Salt still talk about it. Though nobody besides our crew knows he almost died from internal bleeding afterward.”
My heart lurched, and I tried to calm myself down.
“Honestly, I think he was even scarier when he didn’t speak, but only our crew knew why. Scar taught him and the rest of us sign language, but it was almost a year before I heard him speak out loud.” He paused again, and I glanced over to see him smiling sadly. “He’s a good man, your brother, but he’s got his demons. Try not to judge him too harshly.”
I turned back around, flipping the pages without really seeing them.
“So why aren’t you at breakfast?” Tuck asked.
“Just didn’t want to,” I muttered.
“Alright.”
I glanced at him, startled.
“If I know anything about you Cutlers, it’s that you won’t ever do anything unless you want to, so if you don’t want breakfast, I’m not gonna try to talk you into it,” he said, heading toward the door. He paused on the threshold. “Let me know if you need any help with anything.”
In the silent, empty clinic, I shut the notebook with a loud thud and leaned my elbows on the counter, digging my fingers into my hair. What the fuck was wrong with me? All I wanted was to benormal.I felt like that feral kitten from the barn, biting every hand regardless of whether they were trying to help or hurt. Would I have still been like this if Dune hadn’t died? If I hadn’t been exiled? If I had never met Juck?
I hissed a frustrated breath through my teeth. The door abruptly opened, and I turned, expecting to see Tuck or maybe my brother, but instead, Mist stepped through the door. I froze, but she quickly crossed the clinic and approached me, catching my hands and squeezing.
“Are you okay?” she asked, her wide eyes worried.
“I’m fine,” I said, startled.
“Bo—Ember, did Hawk really hurt you?” Her distress bled into her voice.
“He just grabbed my arm, Mist, I’m okay.”
She studied my face, and the silence stretched.
“I’m sorry,” the whispered words slipped out of my mouth, and her eyes widened. “I’m so sorry, Mist. I should’ve… I should’ve—” A sob choked me, and she released my hands to hug me as the tears I’d held back all morning escaped.
