The fact that Shiloh isn’t going to leave me alone.
Monroe’s words echo through my mind in really unpleasant way. “She’s dangerous. She’ll poison you.”
“That’s my decision to make.” Shiloh laughs, but not like anything is funny. “As for being dangerous, so is every other person in this house. So am I. Or did you forget everything I’ve done since I joined up with you?”
“I haven’t forgotten.” We all have blood on our hands. Every single one of us. Fighting hasn’t been the first course of action, but most of the time it’s inevitable. When we were exiled from Sabine Valley, we lost our claim to anything resembling home territory. No matter where we went, we were always the interlopers, always the one that had to be driven off by whoever owned that space. Often violently.
She searches my face. I don’t know what my expression is doing, but whatever she’s looking for, she doesn’t seem to find. “This is a mess.”
Mess is a gigantic understatement. I look down at her, and I suddenly miss her so fucking much, I can barely breathe past it. We haven’t exactly been apart, but something’s changed between us and we both know it. I feel like she’s slipping through my fingers, and no matter how tightly I try to grasp her, to reclaim the easy intimacy of our friendship, I only make things worse. “I’m sorry,” I say again.
“I know.” Shiloh looks away. “But being sorry isn’t enough, Broderick. I know being back here isn’t easy on you, but you’re not the only one having a hard time.”
Is she talking about herself? I reach out hesitantly and clasp her shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?”
For a second, I think she might, but Shiloh finally shakes her head. “No. It doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.” She covers my hand with her own and gives it a squeeze.
We look at each other and it’s the way things used to be. I can almost picture how the rest of the night should go. I’ll offer to pull out a movie from Finnegan’s endless collection, she’ll get the snacks, and we’ll hole up in the mini movie theater for the duration. For a few hours, things will be normal again.
But then Shiloh steps away and I let my hand drop. She moves past me to the door and opens it. “If you want to keep hiding, that’s your choice. But not all of us have that option. Not all of us want that option. If this is home now, for better or worse. I’m going to make work.”
“With Monroe.” The words are out before I can call them back.
She gives me a long look. “She’s the enemy, but she’s also your Bride for the next eleven months. Have you considered how you could use that to the advantage of the Raider faction?” Shiloh is gone before I can come up with a response. It’s just as well. I’m not sure what I’d even say.
Use Monroe to my advantage?
That orgasm must have gone to Shiloh’s brain, because the woman I know never would have suggested such a thing. The entire reason we came back to Sabine Valley and Abel stepped into the ring on Lammas, the very purpose of our Brides, is to get revenge. Sending Fallon and Monroe back to their respective positions during the day means we have an in with both Amazons and Mystics. A way to get to the very heart of them and rip it out.
The same way they ripped out our hearts eight years ago.
Shiloh doesn’t get it. Even as close as we are, as many times as she’s heard the stories, she doesn’t fucking get it. How could she? She’s not from Sabine Valley. She didn’t wake up in the middle of the night to the scent of smoke on the air. She wasn’t forced to flee a burning building that left forty of our people dead. It was sheer luck that none of my brothers were among them. She didn’t become an orphan that night.
My father was a monster. I was more than old enough at twenty-seven to understand just how fucked he was when it came to running the Raider faction. But he wouldn’t have run it forever, and Abel is not the same kind of monster. No matter what pieces of himself he carved away over the last eight years to keep us and our people protected, he has more than proven he’s fit to lead the Raider faction in the past three weeks.
Things are working out exactly like they’re supposed to. So why the fuck can’t I get my head on straight? Why can’t I escape the feeling of a sword hanging over our heads, just waiting until the right moment to fall and sever us from the world of the living?
I can barely stand to be inside my own head. Desperate to talk to someone with the slightest bit of sanity, I seek out my brother Ezekiel. He won’t have softened on our main goal. Not when the betrayal he experienced was so damn personal.
When we were driven out of the city, Ezekiel was one of a trio of friends who represented the hope for the future. A Raider, a Mystic, and an Amazon. I’m still not sure how they met, but they were constantly together through most of our childhood. I think Ezekiel expected them to come for him after the exile. It was the first time they were separated since they were little.
They…didn’t.
When we were doing our research and planning for our return, we discovered that Jasper and Beatrix were dating. Not only had they moved on from the loss of Ezekiel, but they moved on together. When he found that out, my brother went quiet in a way that worries me. He hasn’t been the same since.
He insisted on Jasper as his Bride, and Abel allowed it. I don’t think anyone expected Beatrix
