She leans closer, voice dropping. “A bull mutilated and left bloodless and organ-less.”
The floorboards squeak beneath my boots. My jaw tightens. “The Ancients?”
She shrugs. “Don’t know.”
“But youdoknow something… more than you’re saying. Don’t make me drag it out of you.”
Mags gasps, stepping back. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“You couldn’t stop me.”
“But you’d stop yourself,” she fires back, cheeks going red and her eyes flashing.
I let out a low sigh, chest rumbling softly. “Doesn’t matter. None of it does.”
“Then, why are you here?”
My eyes flick back to the object on the counter. “Maybe your blood’s diluted enough to live without that. But for me…” I shake my head. Not saying what I should.
It’s a death sentence.
“It’s all about mental discipline.” There she goes again. The same argument for more than a century.
I shake my head, turning away. She doesn’t know what it’s like for Wildbloods like me. The first ones. The purest ones.
Those who don’t bond. We brand.
“No rest for the wicked,” I drawl.
“Sounds like you’re volunteering then?” she asks too hopefully.
“Volunteering for what?”
“To find out what’s going on at the Wakefield Ranch.”
I wheel back around, my duster flapping in the air. “Swore I’d never go back there. Not while I’m breathing.”
She nods, face going solemn.
“But maybe,” I say, crossing the distance back to her. “Just maybe this little errand will give you enough time to come clean. Realize there’s nothing you can hide from me.”
She lifts her chin in challenge. “You gave up on this town a long time ago, Guthrie. I don’t expect any different from you now.”
“Only youdo. Wakefield… Lord help me.” I shake my head, shoulders hunching forward in resignation.
“Just need you to scope out the location of the bull. Look for signs of what happened.”
“So we can rest uneasy in our beds waiting for the mountain to break? For the Ancients to decide it’s our guts they really want?” I snarl.
“Isolation has done you no good, Kael. You’re even grumpier than I remember.”
I frown. “Maybe not. But my isolation has done the world good. That’s enough.”
“You can’t live apart forever,” Mags says, voice softening. Her eyes relax as if she’s empathizing.
“Stop it,” I grunt. “I make my own decisions. You make yours.”
I turn to leave, crossing the distance to the door. The bell chimes high-pitched and cloying. “That means when I get back, you fess up.”
