“What happened?” Brokk’s voice cracked as he sprinted, dropping to his best friend’s side instantly. Alby’s eyes were wide, and he grappled with his words, his mouth opening and closing. Brokk snapped, “Alby, what happened?” The doors at the end of the hallway flew open, and he stood slowly, taking in the group rushing toward them, not waiting for Alby to reply.
Roque stormed down to them, Nei and Bresslin at his heels, Tadeas and his entourage flanking them. Roque took them in, narrowing his eyes to slits. “Foster! What are you doing here? I told the teachers to issue a temporary room curfew, effective immediately.”
Roque’s words were just white noise, taking in Adair filing slowly in at the end of the hallway looking like he had just been through a war. “Foster, I suggest you answer the question.” Roque spoke quietly and slowly, and he flicked his gaze up to the man for a second, truly taking him in. And what Brokk saw, for the first time in years, scared him. Rage contorted their leader’s features into one unrecognizable. One that consumed the man and left a person that had nothing left to lose.
Brokk took a step back, his voice hoarse. “I was just looking for Memphis.”
Alby cut in, growling the next words Brokk never wanted to hear. “He did it. Adair used his ability against Memphis.” He barely took in the next couple of seconds.
Roque stiffened, turning slowly to take in Adair limping behind them all, his hooded eyes sweeping down to the floor in front of him, not realizing that everyone had focused in on him. He hurt Memphis. Brokk’s nails dug into his skin, and he hardly digested that he was quivering. His body responded before his mind could. He felt his weight shift, springing forward, anger flaring through his veins, electrifying every move. He pushed past Roque, yells charging behind him. But it was like he was being funneled down, swept away, with only one objective: to make Adair pay. His blood coursed through his veins, wildly alive, and he lost himself to his adrenaline.
Cracking bones and the world splintered as he flew, landing heavily as a wolf, his lean body and golden fur rippling, his growl tearing through him. The King of the Shattered Isles slammed himself flush to the wall, looking with wide eyes as he came charging past. The rest of his company followed suit, and Brokk snarled his massive maw at them. They should be afraid. Adair’s head snapped up, shadows and malice dancing across his face. He didn’t care about what the Faes were saying. Or the Strattons. Or the strange new king. All that had ever mattered to him was his family. And everyone knew when it came to him it didn’t have to do with blood. Memphis was his best friend, and their bond was as strong as any kinship. They looked after each other and always had. Always would.
The coldness of the hallway sent shivers up his limbs as his body was tugged sideways, slamming into the concrete, black spots erupting in his vision. Ice slicked the hallways as Bresslin sauntered up behind him, eyes flashing.
“Mom, no!” Adair lurched forward, his skin draining of any color. Brokk recovered himself, his nails as sharp as any blade as they dug into the pale ice. A deep thrumming overtook his senses. He was two lunges away from Adair, and his hackles raised on his back. Bresslin would never reach him in time, and she wouldn’t attack him, not with the Faes there. Adair was a liar, always just waiting for the opportune moment to tear their group apart. It ended now. Adair stopped, slowly raising his chin, fists clenching at his sides. Brokk snapped his massive jaws, welcoming his rage, welcoming his defiance. It wouldn’t be a fair fight any other way. His muscles tensed as he lowered his body, preparing to cut through the air.
“Brokk, no!”
A flash of inky hair and Emory threw herself in front of him, grabbing his paw, her green eyes alit. His world came crashing down around him. His back slammed into the floor, winding him, as any ounce of strength, any ounce of himself, was gone. Emory stood above him, gritting her teeth, and he knew she was barely holding on to the new surge of ability soaking into her bones. His ability.
“What are you doing?” Each word was forced, and she only looked down to him, shielding Adair behind her. Her grip tightened around his wrist, and Brokk licked his dry lips, searching desperately for his power, both the wolf and the other. The secret he had held close to his heart for years. The secret he had made sure to keep from his best friends, knowing if he ever got himself into this situation, that she would know in a split second.
Her eyebrows furrowed as sweat slicked her forehead. He wanted to scream at her, to stop, to try to not figure it out. He barely understood it himself. They had transcended time, and Brokk wanted to form coherent sentences to begin to explain. Instead panic flooded through him, about what he had almost done and about what Emory now knew. His pulse fluttered underneath her pinning ability, and she leaned in closer, whispering only to him, “This isn’t over. Don’t kill him, okay?”
She let go, and Brokk shuddered, his ability slamming back into his marrow, as relief washed over him. It was like returning home after being caught in a storm. Warm and familiar, he clutched his head, losing himself in the feeling. He never wanted to let go.
“Roque, this can’t be tolerated!”
Brokk sat up, taking in Bresslin chasing after Roque, the rest of the group hanging back.
