The med kit was where I left it by the closet door, a footlocker-sized metal case on wheels that moonlighted as a mobile ER. I grabbed the handle and started back downstairs, its well-oiled wheels quieter than my soundless tread.
Twenty-four hours ago, I’d have bet my fangs that the wolf was nothing but teeth and trauma reflexes. Just instincts, just survival. It was easier that way. Easier to think Arabesque had stripped him down to nothing. But now?
Now I knew he was more than hunger and fear. And that was worse.Somuch worse. Because if there was still a shred of who he’d been, then he could feel. He could remember. He couldhurt.
The thought twisted in my chest, a knot I couldn’t untangle. It was awful and yet, somehow, it was good. I hated it. Hated how it made me feel. I wasn’t used to thismessof emotions I couldn’t control or organize or fix. In the past two days, I’d had more inner upheaval than I had since I was a kid.
It was exhausting.
By the time I returned, Koa had fetched cookies, beers, and pretzels for us, and a plate of chicken sat on the floor as a lure for the shadow skulking behind the couch, currently unyielding.
An image flashed in my mind. Finding the pup under Seri’s curls, his body stuffed tight in a duffle bag. The best den he could make and still reach her. Still guard her.
“C’mon, Brum,” Koa called quietly. “Chicken awaits you.”
The pup sniffed, but stayed put. He was wedged so far back now that only the faint glitter of blue eyes gave him away.
Zane’s hand was a mess of blood and glass, but I’d seen worse. Much,muchworse.
“Hold still.” I unlatched the med kit.
“Why bother?” He flexed his mangled hand with a grunt. “It’ll be healed in another few minutes.”
“Just let him, Z,” Koa muttered. “Before he starts sorting the shards by shapes.”
Tempting.
Instead, I grabbed the tweezers and methodically dug out bloody glass bits, then layered gauze on his knuckles, counting each loop of bandage to hold it in place. Six for the bleeding, six more for the things I couldn’t say.
“Come on, pup,” Koa murmured, his voice soft, waving a piece of chicken like a peace offering. “You’re safe. We won’t hurt you.”
The wolf didn’t budge, only let out a low whine that was more heartbreaking than any cry.
“Leave him. He’ll come out when he’s ready.” I cleaned up and closed the med kit.
Koa sighed, but dropped the chicken back on the plate.
Slouching on the couch, Zane laid his bandaged hand on his flat stomach and grabbed one of the beers with his other. Downed half of it in one swig.
“Third memory,” I said at last. “What was it?”
For a moment, he just stared at the floor. I sat down beside him, slinging an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close. Koa sat close on his other side, a solid wall of support. Zane didn’t resist. He leaned into me, his head resting against my shoulder, and took a shaky breath.
“They were in the woods.” His voice went flat, the way it does when he’s replaying memories that aren’t his. “Seri smelled like pine needles and hope? And Brumous kept thinking about rabbits. Then—” He shuddered. “Rogue stink. Arabesque was there with some shifter jackass, whispering sweet nothings.”
“About?”
“Brummy only understood the word crowns. You know how he knew that one? He showed me our beloved braiding one outta straw for him. Brumous said it smelled like love.”
Zane’s voice cracked at the end, and I closed my eyes as something inside my chest fell apart.
“Crowns.” Ko’s fist tightened around a throw pillow. “Regicide usually requires martyrs.”
“We all know Seri was Arabesque’s sacrificial lamb,” I muttered. “Go on, Z.”
“Seri sent Brumous back to protect someone. He couldn’t say the name, just shoved thissenseof a kid at me. Newborn, maybe. Brummy felt soft and something about milk.”
“The hell? Arabesque’s got a baby locked up?” Koa scowled.
