As he’d never been to the facility before his eyes had kicked it, he couldn’t fall into the pacing he wanted, but he gripped George’s halter and nudged forward. His prickling senses fed him all kinds of information: The air was chilly and smelled like old oil, cleaning supplies, and a drift of gasoline. The floor was hard and cold, even through his steel-soled shitkickers. His brothers were tense, their aggression banked and carrying the sting of burning wood in the nose.
And all three of them were talking with their backs to him.
To their mates.
He tried to tune that shit out, and not just because he didn’t want to eavesdrop. But of course he caught theI love you’sat the end, the syllables spoken in three different ways with identical guilty relief that they themselves were not the ones hurt.
It went without saying that some night, death was going to come for them.
Violent or natural. As it had for Wrath.
He took out his own phone again and put it up to his face. Then he turned away from the others and said, “Call…leelan.”
As he waited for the connection to get made, he thought about the way he and Beth had left it—
Rinnnnnng.
Then he remembered the moment they’d been reunited when he’d reappeared, him walking into those quarters underground, a blast from the past that he hadn’t known he’d missed yet. She’d hit his body like a freight train, and he’d breathed in her lancing confusion and release of sorrow.
Rinnnnnng.
Then he went all the way back to their mating ceremony in the foyer of the mansion, to the feel of her name being carved into his skin, the rush of the cold, stinging salt making it a permanent marking.
Rinnnnnng.
Finally, he thought about making love to her the day before he’d gone to Whestmorel’s. It had been the last time they’d been together before she found out he’d lied to her about going out—
Hi, this is Beth. Please leave a message. Thanks, bye!
Wrath killed the call and dropped his arm down. Would she believe him when he explained that they’d been on the way to the Audience House in that now-totaled SUV? Or would she jump to some conclusion he was trying to fuck with her for a second time and managed to get caught again?
Was the trust between them so irrevocably broken that she was never going to believe another word he said?
Off to the side, Xcor and Payne came in from the roof entrance’s set of stairs, two more pairs of shitkickers echoing around. A rise of voices percolated into his void, and air currents moved against his face and throat, and George’s nails scraped against the concrete as the dog slid into a lay-down position.
And that’s when Wrath snapped.
I can’t do this anymore, he thought.
“Can’t do what?” Qhuinn asked from over on the right.
The chatter around him abruptly stopped, but he wasn’t paying attention to anyone. Bending down, he placed his cell phone on the cold floor. As he straightened, he covered the thing with his boot—
He transferred his weight with a tilt of his torso, but then he added strength, his thigh muscles contracting as he bore down on the Samsung. The squeak was like that of a mouse, and thanks to those Vibram soles, he felt nothing of its contours under the treads as he crushed the fucking thing.
“Cancel my appointments,” he commanded.
There was a serious goddamn pause.
“They’ve already been canceled tonight,” Phury countered slowly. “I told you, my Lord.”
Wrath bent down and gathered up his dog again. “No, I mean cancel all my appointments. I’m done.”
“What are you talking about—”
“What are you saying—”
“What does that mean—”
