Page 40 of Do You Even Hex, Bro?
"The same place they were tonight," Killian says darkly. "Using her instead of protecting her."
My fists clench at the memory of Kyle's smug face. The way he spoke about her like she was property. The casual cruelty when he stripped away her glamour to expose her scars.
"He wanted us to reject her," I grit out. "That's why he did it. He thought we'd reject her because of the scars."
"He's a fucking piece of shit," Rowan agrees.
"Fuck him," I spit. "She's beautiful. Scars and all."
And she is. Even with half her face marred by deep, silvery claw marks, Regina radiates a kind of power and grace I've never seen before. The scars don't diminish that. If anything, they enhance it. Evidence of what she's survived. What she's overcome.
"We have to be careful," Micah says pointedly, giving the rest of us a look. "We can't scare her off. She's already been through hell."
"Yeah." I swallow hard against the lump in my throat.
We fall silent, each lost in our own thoughts. The night air grows colder around us, but none of us make a move to leave. To abandon our post would feel like abandoningher, even though we can't get near the house, even though she doesn't want us anywhere near her.
"So what's the plan?" I finally ask, cutting through the heavy silence. "We can't force our way in. We can't grab her when she comes out. That would just confirm she's right to be afraid of us. But we can't sit on our asses and donothing."
Killian paces along the invisible barrier, clearly fighting his instincts. As pack leader, every fiber of his being is screaming to protect what's his. To tear through anything—or anyone—that stands in his way. But the usual approach won't work here.
Not with Regina.
"We need to understand what a siphon is and what that means," he finally answers. "So we know how to take care of her."
"Like a hamster," I add gravely. They all glare at me. "What?"
"I can ask Sadie and find out if she knows anything about the Starbridge coven," Micah adds. "Or Crystal Cookies, or whatever the fuck he said it's called. She knows all the witch gossip."
"We also need to watch this place 24/7," Killian decides. "We take shifts. At least two of us at all times, just beyond the wards. The second Regina steps foot outside, we need to know."
"And then what?" Rowan asks. "Approach her? Scare the shit out of her again?"
"We give her space," Killian says reluctantly. "We don't push. We don't force. We let her come to us when—if—she's ready."
I stare at him, genuinely shocked. Killian Underwood, notorious control freak and take-charge alpha, suggesting patience and restraint? I must look as stunned as I feel, because he shoots me a glare that could curdle milk.
"What? I can be reasonable," I mutter.
Doesn't mean I have to like it, though.
Chapter
Twelve
REGINA
Villeneuve's arm hovers near my back without touching me as he guides me up a winding stone path toward his home.
The walk feels endless. Every step requires more energy than I possess. My feet drag through fallen leaves, catching on uneven stones. If I stumble, I might not get back up. I've been running on spite and adrenaline for days, and both tanks are now empty.
"We're nearly there," Villeneuve says, and I can't tell if it's reassurance or impatience.
I glance back once, against my better judgment. The wolves watch from the edge of the property, clearly following us, four silhouettes haloed by moonlight. From this distance, they look like part of the forest. Ancient guardians bound to the land.
I know better.
Villeneuve's home appears suddenly around a bend, as if conjured from nothing. Not a Victorian behemoth like the wolfhouse, but a sleeker, more modern monstrosity of glass and steel built into the hillside itself.
