His brief surge of laughter was exactly what she wanted to hear, and then he pulled her in for a quick embrace—and the love between them was there in the way he lingered like he never wanted to let her go.
“I wish we could stay here forever,” she whispered.
But they had a job to do.
As if the security team monitoring the space knew it was time now, the lock re-released, and they descended the narrow stairwell that was revealed. Down at the bottom, there was another pause at another steel panel and then the way forward opened. As soon as the air rushed in, she smelled the blood. Underneath the gasoline and oil background, the copper tint on the draft couldn’t be ignored.
And didn’t that take over everything.
Chapter Seventeen
As Beth stepped out of the staircase, the industrial space of the Brotherhood’s garage towered above her, all the exposed ductwork and metal girders making it feel like some kind of post-apocalyptic movie set. In the center of it all, an RV the size of a house gleamed in the low lighting. The mobile surgical unit had been upgraded over the years, and the current version was painted in gold, bronze, and black. With its heavily tinted windows, it looked like the tour bus of some rock star.
But she didn’t pay a lot of attention to any of that.
The two gurneys were around to the rear, and the fact that there were dark gray plastic body bags on them made her stomach flip-flop in the cradle of her pelvis.
“I’ve got you,leelan,” Wrath murmured as he put his arm around her waist.
And she had him, leading him forward, as someone stepped out from the mobile unit’s rear.
Zsadist.
The Brother was in his fighting clothes, although there wasn’t much distinction between them and what he wore at the Wheel. The only difference was the amount of weapons strapped onto his powerful body. With his skull-trimmed hair, the black slave band around his throat, and the scar that ran down his face in an S-curve, he looked like an absolute menace—unless he knew you. Then he was the most loyal and protective ally and guard there ever was. Still, her heart sank a little every time she saw him. Even after decades upon decades of personalwork with Mary, and his mating with Bella, and the birth of his daughter Nalla, you could tell that he continued to struggle with his horrific past.
But he never complained. Never took it out on anybody else.
“My brother,” Wrath said as he put his palm forward without getting too close.
No one ever touched Z or crowded him. He was like an untamed wolf who circled and sometimes came forward. Which he did tonight.
As the Brother clapped hands with what was offered, the sleeve of his leather jacket rode up and exposed the slave band on his wrist. Those terrible ownership tattoos, like the damage that had been done to him psychologically, were permanent. And yet he had crafted a good life for himself.
And considering the reason they were all here, and what was in those bags, it gave her hope for the species. Even in the midst of the war.
“Beth,” he murmured with a nod of respect.
It was then she noticed some of the members of the Band of Bastards in the background. As they offered a wave, she lifted her hand in return.
“They were found down by the river, at Thirty-first Street,” Z reported. “And the identities are confirmed. I sent pictures to Shuli and he just responded.”
“I want to see them,” Beth stated roughly. “Especially Emile.”
There was a heartbeat of silence before Wrath inclined his head. “Open both the bags for her.”
The sound of the first zipper being drawn down went through her ears and into her soul. And then she was covering her mouth with her hand.
The male’s face was as gray as a river stone, his expression frozen in an agonizing grimace that at first didn’t make any sense—until she realized that his upper lip had been tackedup with nails that had been driven into his cheekbones. His fangs had been removed, the gaping holes revealing his swollen tongue, blood staining the enamel of the remaining teeth pink. There were also congealing red puddles in the ear and the cup formed at the base of the throat.
“This is Rolhand, son of Rolhand the Elder,” Z said in a low tone.
Beth looked away and had to tell herself not to hyperventilate. Especially as she heard that zipper going back up into place.
Wrath spoke in a grim voice: “Okay, that’s enough. Let’s go—”
“No.” She cut herhellrenoff and turned back around. Clearing her throat a couple of times, she said, “About ten years ago, I saw Emile with his parents at the Audience House. It was just after he graduated from medical school. I need…to see him, too.”
There was a long moment. Then when Wrath nodded sharply, Z’s blunt fingers went to the zipper on the second bag, and as he started to draw it down, a tuft of blond hair fanned out. She immediately recognized the face that was exposed, and the recollection of the male with his proudmahmenand father percolated up from memory. Remembering how happy the family had been on that special night of blessing, she was relieved to a degree that he hadn’t been mutilated as the other male had been.
