die that night, so he did what he always did, and he protected me.”
“Because he loved you.” I almost choked on the words, the perfect echo of Wyatt’s own death. Taking a bullet meant for me, risking permanent death to make sure I wasn’t the one to die.
“Yeah.”
Ten years last month.
A memory returned with a sudden rush of clarity. I was barely a week over the flu and home alone when I found him in front of the apartment door with a bottle in his hand. It was the only time in my life I’d seen Wyatt drunk. And not just a little drunk—totally and utterly hammered. He’d muttered something about an anniversary but never elaborated. I hadn’t asked, and he eventually passed out in my room. But not before he kissed me— something I’d written off and filed away as a liquor-induced Bad Idea. We’d never spoken of the uncomfortable encounter. Hell, I hadn’t even
Did Wyatt remember it—or anything he’d said that night? Would things have been different between us if I’d pried the information out of him then? If I’d kissed him back?
It didn’t fucking matter. Not anymore.
I stood and crossed the room, unsure if he’d want me or turn away. He leaned back in his chair, arms open, eyes sparkling. I curled into his lap, and it should have been awkward. I should have been embarrassed by the position. I wasn’t. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, while he looped one around my waist and the other around my knees. We hugged each other, speaking volumes in the silent embrace.
“I went out and killed the guy anyway.” Wyatt’s voice rumbled through his chest and into mine, breath hot on my neck. “I hated that I could do it only once. We never did find the second one.”
Drawing back a bit, I met his gaze. “After ten years?”
“After ten years.”
“What would you do now if you did find him?”
His eyes unfocused as he went somewhere internal. Considered what I’d asked. It gave me hope that he hadn’t answered right away. “I honestly don’t know, Evy. I’m not Andreas Petros, son of a Greek immigrant, anymore. I buried him with Nicandro and the rest of his family.”
I touched his face, featherlight, tracing features I knew by heart. Strong jaw, straight nose, perpetual stubble, thick eyebrows. The man I knew and cared for was right there, a man named Wyatt Truman. I believed him when he said Andreas was gone. I also knew what it was like to carry the anger of another lifetime. It would always simmer beneath the surface, waiting for the right spark to be struck and ignite an inferno.
Wyatt tilted his head to the side. “Are you sorry you asked?”
“I wish I’d asked sooner. It’s amazing the things we don’t know, even about people we consider our closest friends.”
“We’re both private people, Evy. Most people wouldn’t understand our kinds of pain anyway.”
“True, but some will try if given half a chance.” I put my head on his shoulder, and we held each other for a while. I listened to the thrum of his pulse and the gentle rasp of his breathing. Let the minutes tick away in companionable quiet, until my curiosity got the better of me. “It took three years to come up with the system we have in place now?”
“Give or take, yeah.” His fingers drew light lines up and down my arm, tickling. “You put six strong, angry personalities into one room and no one likes to give in and take orders. Plus our antics were getting noticed by the real police, so we needed protection from them. Someone to make the right reports disappear or to turn a blind eye to certain activities.”
“The brass.”
“Right. We needed to have people on the inside.”
“Wyatt, are any of the original six—?”
“No. Two of them are dead; two are trainers at Boot Camp.”
I pictured the four trainers who’d tortured us through Boot Camp. They were all Wyatt’s age, maybe up to ten years older. Any of them could be the original Hunters, but I couldn’t bring myself to intrude further into Wyatt’s memories by asking. “And the other two are you and Rufus,” I finished for him.
“Yes. I don’t know how she recruited the cops who help us, but she did, and their identities are one of the most guarded secrets in the Triads.”
“She?”
“Amalie set that up for us.”
My entire body jerked. Amalie knew the brass, and I felt like an absolute idiot for not thinking of her sooner. She’d had a hand in the Triads since their conception. Would she really be party to tearing them down from the top?
“Don’t even think it, Evy. If Amalie had any idea of the deal you made with Phin, she’d—”
“What? Use her supersprite abilities and have me killed?”
“She’d probably use all of her vast influence and power to prevent you from succeeding. She believes completely in the mission of the Triads. She helped create us, for Christ’s sake.”
“Because she didn’t want to see humans overpowered by the other species?”
“Yes. If we lose control of this city, then First Break becomes more vulnerable to others. We saw what almost happened with Tovin. If we hadn’t been there to stop him, the city would be crawling with demons.”
“I know, okay?”
He squeezed my knee. “Phineas said he wouldn’t ask for Rufus’s life if we helped him. We’re doing that. What’s the point in exposing the brass now? Wasn’t the point to save Rufus?”
I hated that he was right. Exposing the brass had been a means to an end. Now that the end was met, the path was no longer viable. Only, once I had an idea in my head, I had a hard time letting go. If orders like the Neutralization on Sunset Terrace and on me—orders that came with no proof and no positive results—could make it through unchecked, the system needed an overhaul.
Phin wanted Therians included in the Triads. The races wanted more influence in governing themselves without living under the constant threat of human smack-down. It wasn’t a completely unreasonable request. Maybe it would have prevented all the conflict with Call and his militia. Saved everyone a lot of heartache.
“Do you still believe in this system?” I asked.
“You mean the system that tried to kill you twice, wiped out an entire were-Clan, and puts all the blame for what you kill on the shoulders of your Handler?” He sighed. “Yeah, I do. It’s flawed, sure, but our intentions are right. It’s all we’ve got.”
“And if you could change it?”
“I think it would be an uphill battle the entire way. Some people embrace change, others resist it. Still others resist violently.”
“Which one are you?”
He was quiet for a moment. “I think the only thing I’ve got to lose is right here, and that we make one hell of a team.”
I considered that, head comfortably nestled against his shoulder. We were on the precipice of a war—one the rest of the city would never see coming. But they’d see it when the violence spilled out into the streets. Fear had kept the rogue vampires and Halfies in line—fear of swift death at a Hunter’s hands. Only now they were organizing. The choreographed attack that had left my two Triad partners dead was well planned and better executed. Even if someone was pulling their strings, they were listening. Call’s militia stood to destroy everything.
If we didn’t rip apart from the inside first.
“So …” I let the single syllable drag out into three. “You know how you said the Assembly was calling you a killer?”
“Not tonight, Evy, please? I’ll tell you about it, but ripping open one wound a night is my limit.”
“They said I should ask the killer I protect about Snow and his connection to the Triads. If you’re who they were talking about—”
“I don’t know who Snow is.” His voice hinted at truth, but the hard tension thrumming through his body told otherwise.
“Then why would the Kitsune Elder call you a killer and seem not terribly surprised at what Snow’s planning?”
