Selfish.
The word hasn’t wrenched itself out of my brain yet. Selfish.
Yes, you are, Wolf.
Which is why I’m here, frozen near the half-open door of his home office. Hands clutching the damn letter, my whole frame vibrating with pure rage.
Ryder is silently standing behind me. Just like he silently followed me when I dazedly left the compound.
He’d seen something in my eyes that made him not question why I was heading out in the middle of an active war. When we’d learned that a former ally was decimated less than twenty-four hours ago.
“Not yet. Healer is adamant about not wasting medical resources on a fucking intruder,” Wolf grits out. “I get it, okay? But it’s more important now to keep the asshole alive and pry some names out of him.”
“You think he’ll tell us the names of the traitors? Really, Wolf?” Ruin retorts incredulously. “You think the runt of Hell’s Army who was sent to shoot up our club as a distraction… would have any names for us?”
Wolf sighs. “I don’t know, Ruin. But what other choice do we have? What—we wait until they fucking destroy our club from the inside?”
Ruin groans.
“Fine,” Wolf relents. “I’ll tell Healer to unplug the bastard.”
When the silence drags on, I find my opening.
Using my fist, I deliberately pound on the already open door. The loud thud sends both of them shooting up from their chairs, guns in hand.
Ryder isn’t quick enough to stop me, so he walks in behind me, muttering curses under his breath.
Wolf and Ruin both relax a fraction when they see it’s me. It doesn’t last.
Not once they take in the relentless glare I’m throwing at Wolf.
“This!” I snap, holding up the piece of paper that ruined my entire damn evening. “What the hell is this?”
“Charl—”
“I’ll do my first and only duty as your sister,” I seethe, cutting off Wolf’s startled protest. “And buy you a journal so you can usethatinstead of word-vomiting in your fucking letters to me!”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ruin take a slow, cautious step back. Away from whatever menacing energy is currently rolling off me.
Then I petulantly slap the letter on his desk with a loud thump. It almost makes me flinch.
I’m fresh out of an emotional meltdown, so I’ll let myself be embarrassed later. The only thing ruling my actions is the rage I feel at the audacity of this man.
The selfishness. Self-hatred. Self… fuckery that he possesses.
Is this what was waiting for me all those times he’d pleaded to talk to me? When he’d hesitantly approach me—every single day—with an awkward, quiet ‘Charlotte’?
I’m surprisingly glad I’d sent him packing.
His mouth opens and closes like a fish out of the pond. Unable to voice whatever he might want to respond with.
Then he gingerly takes the letter from his desk. The moment his eyes land on the words written by him, his whole face goes red. His throat bobs on a hard swallow.
I manage to voice my burning question, almost spitting the words out. “Is this supposed to fix anything, Wolf?!”
Silence. Again.
Irritation boils over. My hands clench at my sides. “Say something, you robot!” I snap harshly. “Is silence your only thing?!”
