Locke. He was asleep on the sofa.
Saint . . . where was he?
Like he’d heard me, a door pushed open and Saint appeared.
I pushed myself up on my elbows as he drew nearer, and Viktor scooted back to give him space.
Saint wasn’t much for hugs.
Or words.
Or anything that I had the brain power for right now, but for once, the communication gods were on his side. “I’m sorry I pushed you. I thought you were going to shoot them, and I couldn’t shout stop in time.”
A frown creased my face. “Shoot who?”
“Alexei and Viktor—” Saint fought for more, but he was done. And I’d heard enough anyway. I didn’t remember what he described, but I knew Saint. He didn’t overreact. He didn’t misread. And I’d happily let him set me on fire if it kept Vik safe.
Saint knew that. He was one of those dudes who could look at me and know what I felt before I did. But whatever my face was doing... it wasn’t enough. He was still fractured, and I didn’t know how to fix it.
He pressed a fist to my arm and melted away.
Seconds later, a door slammed hard enough to rattle the walls, and motherfucker, it hurt.
I turned my frown on Vik. “What’s up with him?”
Viktor gestured for me to remove my shirt, brandishing a clean one that was actually mine. “He is upset that he hurt you. And angry with Cam for manoeuvring around him.”
That threw me. I sifted through the garbled mess in my brain, searching for the right tape, knowing I needed to find it for myself to make sense of it.
It came to me eventually. Cam and Jake. They’d fucked us. Sent us running in the wrong direction on purpose. Wasn’t sure how, but that shit was beyond me even when my skull wasn’t imploding in time with my pulse. “He wouldn’t be so pissed off if Alexei had done it.”
“Alexeiwas goingto do it.” Viktor rolled fresh socks onto my feet like an absolute cutie pie. “And do not even deny that you would have—thatSaintwould have—if the two of you had got the chance. All of us and none of us have the right to be angry, and for what? For loving each other too much?”
“All right, luv. Don’t go on.”
Viktor laughed and it was fucking beautiful. “You are not angry then?”
“With who?”
“Anyone. Everyone.”
“Did we kill them all?”
Vik’s humour morphed into grim satisfaction. “We did. Now it is time for Jake to negotiate what happens next, but you do not need to worry about that.”
“You think I don’t care about your brother?”
“That is not what I said. Are you hungry?”
“No.”
“Could you eat something anyway?”
No. I was sure of it. Then a familiar scent reached me, wrapped around me as if it was Vik’s fucking arms, and a sense of right changed everything.
Fucking oranges. Somehow these dimpled little shits had begun to smell like home.
I let Viktor feed me cos it made him happy. The Jake thing, though... it got stuck on repeat in my mashed brain, and I couldn’t let it go. I napped some more. Took a wobbly shower and passed out.
