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Of course he brings up my failure. “But he tormented you.”
“Endlessly.”
“And you just allowed it to happen.”
Something about that makes his lips twitch. “Careful, Lynx. That sounds an awful lot like victim blaming.”
“Because even after that, you continue to be a victim.”
He takes a slow step forward. “Is that how you see me?”
“Yes.”
Again, he closes some of the distance between us. “Why?”
I run my eyes over his form, taking in everything from the way my hoodie grazes his thin thighs and swamps his body, to his pretty hair, and the way the dull green in the material only makes the pink in his cheeks and nose stand out more. He looks cozy, sweet, and very, very breakable. “With animals, you’re either in the role of predator or prey. Prey are smaller, often fuzzy and cute, weak to a fault.” I pluck at the chest of my borrowed hoodie, knowing that under it is a tiny shirt with love hearts all over it. “But at least they have survival instincts. You walk around broadcasting how completely unprotected you are. You’re not aware of your surroundings or possible danger, and you do nothing to defend yourself against it.”
“Last time I borrowed a knife to protect myself, I almost ended up dead because of it.”
“No, last time you stole a knife. From me. Like I told you yesterday, if you need something, you ask for it.”
His laugh is as delicate as the wind chimes Rooney makes. “Can I pretty please have one of your knives, Lynx?” He’s mocking me.
“No.”
Sasha throws both hands up in frustration. “Are you purposely messing with me?”
“You can work for one.”
“More work?”
“That’s how we do things around here.”
“Yeah, well, the way you do things around here sucks.”
Maybe they do, but they work.
We reach the Raylons’ house first. I always make them and the Sheppards my priority since they’re home to my cubs. The rest of my pack are fully grown and can protect themselves where I can’t.
Grace is outside as we approach. “You’re early,” she says. “I thought training wasn’t until midday.”
“It is, but I have other things to tend to first.”
She glances over at the house. “The storm the other night messed with some of our salt lines. I tried to redo them, but …”
“Smart girl.”
She brightens at the praise, and then her gaze falls on Sasha. “You’re the intruder, aren’t you?”
“I have a name.”
Grace and I exchange a look at his tone. “I know your name.” She approaches him, and I leave them both behind to tend to the house. Their conversation crosses the quiet morning and reaches me though. “But you’re also a thief and a liar. You’re not allowed to be those things in the End.”
“I was just trying to survive out here.”
“Why didn’t you ask for help?”
This time, his laugh isn’t so musical. “You could have been a bunch of cannibals for all I knew. I wasn’t going near any of you.”
