Page 41 of Dark Dragon’s Wolf

Chapter 18

They all stared at Tristan. Then Mayah said, “They’re not dragons, are they? I could feel it.”

She didn’t understand it. If they weren’t Al-Maddeiri, why was she hearing them?

He shook his head. “Not dragons.” He took a deep breath. “They’re white wolves.”

Flynn leaned forward onto his elbows, the muscles in his arms bunching. “From that pack in Alaska? The one Brock Reilly’s father came from?”

Tristan looked startled. “From the raid? I hadn’t thought about that. The ones I recognized were friends of my parents. People whose families left the Winterhome pack when it split, back in my grandparents’ day.”

He looked down at the table, absently wiping at the blood there. “I thought they were all killed. Frank Beckenham and his crew were coming after everyone they could find with ties to Winterhome, especially the white wolves.” He shook his head. “They started disappearing, and we assumed they were dead. But they’re not. They’ve been in captivity all this time.”

White wolves, Mayah thought. Like Tristan. With mind powers. Calling out…

She put her hand on his arm. “How long?” she whispered. “How long have they been in there?”

He closed his eyes. “Over twelve years.”

Dead silence. “Fuck,” Flynn whispered.

“We’ll get them out,” Mayah said. “We’ll save them. Kira knows where they are—”

But Tristan wasn’t listening. “They’ve been there all the time,” he said. “In those cells, calling out for help. While I’ve been out here—”

“Out here what?” Flynn said. “Living? Breathing? It’s not like you could have done anything—”

Tristan shoved himself back from the table. “Fuck you, Flynn,” he said. “Fuck you, with your mate and your happy crew and their babies. While those wolves are in there—” His voice broke. “That could have been my parents!”

He shouldered past Flynn and down the stairs, slamming out the front door.

Mayah thought Flynn would be pissed, but he just heaved a huge sigh and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Shit.”

Mayah stood up. “I’m going after him.” She could feel the way Tristan’s mind was churning, feel his wolf trying to fight the feelings. This could get ugly.

“I can call Tank,” Flynn said. “He’s used to looking after him. And he’s a grizzly.”

“I’m a dragon,” Mayah reminded him. “I can handle him. And this is my job now.”

Whether Tristan liked it or not.

She found him back in the crazy shed, of course. Like he thought he belonged there, or some shit.

Locked up. Miserable. All because he hadn’t known that people he barely knew had been captured, and hadn’t somehow managed to fix it.

Damn wolf thought he had to fix the world.

She leaned against the edge of the doorway. “Hey,” she said.

He was still human, but his knuckles were bleeding—he’d probably been punching the wall. She could hear in his mind all the things he wanted to say. Fuck off and leave me alone being at the top of the list.

“Why the fuck does everyone keep following me?” he said. “Like you all think you have to fix me, and I can be la la happy-go-lucky like the rest of you. Normal.”

She didn’t know whether to laugh or smack him. As if he really thought no one else but him had ever been through anything.

“Oh, stop it,” Mayah said. “None of us are normal. And you can’t seriously tell me you begrudge your friends a little bit of happiness after all they’ve been through, because I don’t believe it.”

She stepped closer. “Just stop being so damn hard on yourself. Enough people have abused you in your life. You don’t need to join them.”