Levi nodded once, jaw tight, eyes soft. The gesture was small but absolute, same as their decision.
Jericho stood with hands in his pockets, the ghost of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “Been a long time coming,” he said. “Zane deserves some peace.”
Bev began shaking her head, small at first, then violently. “Zane, baby, please, be reasonable. You were always too sensitive. I said things I shouldn’t have. It was stress—grief—Gage?—”
Zane’s voice flickered up from somewhere far away. “You blamed me for him killing himself. You said it should have been me. You said you wished I’d never been born. You called me a parasite; you said it made you sick to look at me…”
He craned his head back to look at Asa, who kissed his forehead. Thomashad never been more proud of Asa. He’d come so far and he truly loved Zane.
Out of all his children, Asa had been the most worrisome, reckless in ways that made the rest of them proud and terrified in equal measure. He was the one most likely to break rules, to give it all up for the thrill of the hunt. But that had been before Zane. Thomas didn’t quite understand Zane’s need to be hurt as much as he understood Asa’s need to hurt him, but it was clear they recognized something in each other. He had no doubt Asawould die for Zane, and that was something he’d never thought possible—not for anyone other than Avi.
Bev seized on the moment. “I was hurting. I lost my child. I didn’t mean?—”
“He’s your child too,” Felix snapped. “Jesus, even when begging for your life you can’t seem to accept that.”
Her eyes went wide like she couldn’t believe she’d made such an error. “You—you’re right. You’re right. He is my child. I’m your mother, Zaney?—”
“Don’t call me that,” Zane said flatly. “Only Gage and my family get to call me that. You’re not my family.”
“I gave birth to you,” she screeched. “You wouldn’t have any of this if not for me.”
“You’re a horrible fucking person,” Noah said, incredulous, both disgusted and baffled at her refusal to perform the most basic human instinct: self-preservation.
Bev turned wild eyes on Noah. “You don’t know?—”
“Stop.” Asa’s voice was quiet but everyone obeyed. He slowly turned Zane in his arms and lowered his head until his mouth was nearly at Zane’s ear. “I’m going to handle this. Okay? You trust me, right?”
“You know I do,” Zane breathed.
Thomas felt the strain line Asa’s face. His palm was warm and hard against Zane’s ribs, counting out a rhythm like a small drum. “You don’t have to say anything. You don’t have to do anything. Soon this will be over. You don’t owe her anything.”
Avi stared at Bev like she was something stuck to his shoe. “Can we kill this bitch now? We owe Zane a cuddle puddle and I’m honestly tired of looking at her.”
“How long will it take?” Zane asked, voice dull and far away.
“Varies,” Atticus said, professional and bored. “There’s factors?—”
“Like?” Zane asked.
Atticus hesitated, looking from Thomas to Aiden to Asa, who gave a slow nod. He returned his attention to Zane. “Are you sure you want to know?”
Zane flicked his gaze to his mother. “I wantherto know.”
Atticus’s brows shot up. “Oh, well, in that case… Most deaths in fires aren’t from being burned alive, they’re from what you breathe. Carbon monoxide and other combustion products steal oxygen from the blood and brain within minutes, and cyanide from burning plastics can shut down cellular respiration just as fast. If the airway is hit by superheated air, the upper airway swells and can close in minutes to hours. If none of that knocks her out right away, massive burns, fluid loss, and shock will kill over the next several hours.”
“Hours…” Zane said faintly.
“She’s not in great shape,” August reminded. “If she’s lucky, she won’t last long.”
“Wait.” Bev’s voice cracked, raw, almost breaking on its own fear. “Zane, Zaney. I’ll go away. I’ll disappear. I won’t tell anyone. I’ll say I lied. I’ll give you?—”
“You’ll give him nothing,” Thomas said, stepping aside so Zane could see the bull head-on. The air between them shimmered faintly from the heat. The brass hide of the bull gleamed like a living thing, its hollow belly promising retribution. His hand touched Zane’s shoulder and squeezed once. “You’ve already taken enough from him.”
Felix’s hand found Zane’s and curled tight. Across Zane’s other side, the twins flanked him. Their presence felt gravitational, their silence speaking more than words could. Asa was the mountain in the middle, an immovable monolith of calm.
“Put her in,” Thomas said.
August stepped forward. He and Aiden each took an arm—gloves against skin—a choreography of efficiency learned fromyears of similar tasks. They manhandled Bev to the hatch with clinical indifference. She screamed, she shouted, she swore. The sound of it scraped the air raw, like broken glass. She writhed as well as a woman with no fingers could.
