Page 84 of The Enemy to the Living
Sam leaps to his feet. Spectra pushes Sparrow back behind her, but Kieran doesn’t move to stop his second at all. “You told him? Why the fuck would you do that?”
“He needed an outlet. I thought it would help. I’ve only spoken to fae who go there. I didn’t know—”
“Didn’t knowwhat?”
“I didn’t know they made deals with the wolves. I thought they let them fight like everyone else.”
Sam throws his hands up in frustration. “What about when you did? Why didn’t you tell us?”
“It was Quinn’s business, not yours.”
“We’re his pack,” Kieran growls. “You were supposed to be, too.”
Sparrow blanches. They look past the others and at me. “I want to help you.”
Paxton shakes his head. “It’s dangerous enough, and we’re already—Fuck, if we take a fae in there—”
“Sparrow will be better at finding the wolf than either of you,” Spectra says. “Their magic will react to it. Yours may not.”
My blessing will, I’m sure of it, but we can’t take any chances. I look at Sparrow. “Swear that you’ll help us. Make a deal with me.”
“Asher,” Paxton mutters.
“Do it.”
“Fine. I’ll do whatever I can to help you find Quinn’s wolf.” Sparrow sticks out their hand. “No matter the cost to my magic or my life. I swear it.”
“What do you want in exchange?”
“In exchange…” Sparrow’s eyes glitter. “You tell me what you were before you joined the Hunt.”
Paxton grumbles, though he of course knows now, and I suspect he’s figured out what I do—Sparrow does, too. They can already tell. Spectra swallows a smile when I shake Sparrow’s hand.
“Deal,” I say.
“Deal.”
“We’re ready, then?” Paxton asks.
I nod, and so does Sparrow.
“All right. Let’s go get our wolf back.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Asher
Vladcallsjustaswe reach Mischief & Mayhem. I’m glad Paxton’s there because he throws wards around us when I answer the phone; Vlad will just keep calling if not, and I don’t want him to worry unnecessarily.
“You think Jeremiah told him?” I mutter. Paxton scowls. “Vlad? What is it?”
“We are towait, Asher. Wait until tonight. We have time.”
“Who told you?”
“Does it matter?”
Not really. It might have been Maurice. I know he’s worried. He argued with me on the phone earlier but only half-heartedly. I think he knows how much I need to do this.
