Bo- Crushed her spirit when she was already feeling like shit.
Possible solutions:
*Throw himself into traffic while begging for forgiveness.
*Give her embarrassing blackmail to threaten him with if he steps out of line again.
*Push her a little farther so she finally has a sobbing breakdown to alleviate the stress.
*Set Damian, Kaige, and Hunter’s truck on fire and leave them behind.
*Actually do what he said and protect her from herself.
Glancing up at him, Slade waits until I meet his eye before tilting his head towards where Sabrina’s snatching up sticks to use as firewood in the distance, angrily throwing down handfuls of ash because they keep going up in smoke. “She doesn’t like being angry; that’s not who she is. But how’s she supposed to make her peace with two of her mates killing the father she loved, let alone ever welcome them into her bed and not feel like a traitor sleeping with the enemy? To know what she does and isstillchoosing to go to this hellscape they painted?”
He scoffs in disgust. “She’s not going for them, she’s going there to protectusfrom retaliation from the Slaughters if she doesn’t show up. She’s drowning, Bo, and if something doesn’t give, and soon, I wouldn’t be surprised if she burns that entire mountain down and herself right along with it to rage quit the game she’s sick of being a pawn in.”
I try not to picture it, to tell myself that he’s wrong and she’d never willingly leave us, but... she already has once before. She was overwhelmed and needed a step away to process, and that was back when things were ten times less complicated. She chose to come back, choseus,but now? When things are so much worse? My first shift was a mindfuck, and she not only went through that without help, but nearly died, watched her friend get his head torn off, and saw Reid become everything he didn’t want forhersake, all after finding out that Slade signed away our home to someone he hated. For her.
Anyone else would be a sobbing mess, but I’m so used to Sabrina’s ability to handle anything life throws at her, I only focused on how terrified I was of losing her. Iyelledat her when she was sitting there bleeding and breaking instead of begging her never to do something like that again, and coddling her like I should have. What kind of fucking monster does that?
She hasn’t had a moment of peace to process any of that trauma, and here Damian, Kaige, and Hunter are, raining more blows down on her. Yet she’s worried about keeping us from killing each other, and how Reid and Slade are coping with everything they lost.
I’m such a fucking hypocrite.
I told her not to listen to us when we say we’re fine because we don’t know how to ask for help, and never considered she was the same sort of person because of how open she’s always seemed, but now that I’m looking back, the signs were there. She tells us she doesn’t want to be coddled because she’s neverbeen. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t need to be sometimes, it means she doesn’t think shedeservesto be, so of course her refusals would come across as genuine.
I asked her to be better than us, gave us a blank check to be our screwed-up selves without remorse, while holding her to a higher standard when she has far more reasons than we do to be a mess.
Folding up the list of our numerous transgressions, I shove it in my pocket. “Go spread out a sleeping bag in the back of the truck?”
He crosses his arms. “What are you going to do?”
Clapping him on the shoulder in thanks as I pass, I declare with conviction, “I’m going to fix this.”
As Slade disappears through the trees toward the clearing that we left the SUV and truck in, I head for Cin. He’s hovering near Sabrina, keeping an eye on her, but is wise enough not to make any jokes for once and is simply keeping his head down. Pausing mid-step, I cock my head, subtly watching him for a few minutes.
It’s not like him to not throw everything he has into being a distraction when Sabrina’s upset.
It’s more of a feeling than actual discernible words, yet it’s as natural to interpret as breathing, a sixth sense I attribute to my wolf attempting to guide me. Since shifting, it’s been far easier to decipher his meaning; the lurching, volatile responses replaced with a sense ofknowing.
That’s not Cinjin. Or at least, not the wolf masquerading as my brother that we’ve lived with for the past decade, when Cin gave up and shrank so far within himself, he all but ceased to exist. It’s the one that our fathers attempted to beat into submission, instead only drawing his bloodthirsty counterpart to the forefront. We all thought that he died for good the day that he flipped a switch and his wolf began running the show, and I’m not even sure I can remember how to breathe with how relieved I am to be wrong.
Closing the remaining distance in quick strides, I throw my arms around him, laughing in disbelief as I haul him off the ground.
“Holding sticks here, being impaled,” he wheezes, struggling in my grip.
Setting him back on his feet, I can’t stop grinning. “Sorry.”
“Stumble across some funny tasting mushrooms you want to tell us about?” he asks, eyeing me like I’ve gone off the deep end. A short distance away, Sabrina pauses her efforts, wiping her dusty hands on her shorts as she watches us with interest.
“Just happy to see you,” I settle on, mussing up his hair with a smile as he scowls and bats at my hand.
Clearing my throat, I run my hastily concocted plan through my head once more, urging my other half to weigh in. When he doesn’t offer any signs of protest, and he tends to beveryopinionated where Sabrina’s concerned, I take it as him giving his blessing. With a deep breath to brace myself, I rise to my full height.
“You.” First I point at Cinjin, and then the white four door pickup truck that’s still visible through the sparse trees where Slade’s finishing up spreading the mock-blanket in the back. “Sit.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Thrilled at any excuse to get out of work, he drops the bundle of sticks he was carrying instantly and heads off without a single snarky retort.
