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Bluffing, am I? The End is my home, and the people here are my pack, and the kids are my cubs, but he doesn’t know the lengths I’ve gone to in order to protect myself. To run and keep running. I’ll do it again if I need to. I unleash a slow smile. “Try me.”
It takes him entirely too long to throw his door open. “Fine. I’ll take him to Booker. All because you couldn’t keep it in your pants.”
I reach for my knife that isn’t there, just hand closing over empty space, and it makes me feel more untethered than anything. I could and should choose another knife, but none of them feel the same way in my hand. Asking Sasha for it back is also an option, but I don’t want to know what kind of debt that will cost me. Everything has a price in the End.
It doesn’t take long for Wilde to return with Sasha trailing behind him. Considering how much he complains about having to work here, I’d thought Sasha would be relieved, but his eyes narrow as soon as he spots me.
Then he taps my machete.
Oh yeah, it’s going to cost me.
“Don’t get used to playing with my things.”
“Don’t make the mistake of thinking you can tell me what to do.”
It’s not like I can’t walk over there and take the damn thing from him, but then he’d be unprotected, which defeats the whole point of me giving it to him in the first place. It would be so much easier not to care, but between the old magic that’s unavoidable in places like this, and outsiders, outsiders are the bigger threat.
I can protect myself against Sasha. I can’t always protect him from Antonio.
The man’s name leaves the taste of blood in my mouth, and as lost as I am without my machete, I know it will look after Sasha the same way it’s looked after me.
I watch as the two of them climb into the truck, expecting relief to hit me at any moment that he’s finally out of my life. But I watch the truck disappear from view, I watch the dust on the trail settle, I watch as a curious bird dips low and flies off again, and the relief doesn’t come.
Instead, there’s this loose little thread unraveling in my chest, and the more I try to tighten it, the more I feel like I’m being picked apart. It’s distracting and messy, and I can’t get it under control, no matter how many times I tell myself I’ve made the right decision.
No more worrying about the rabbit with the weak pelt, no more feeding him or giving him water or letting him distract me from my actual duties. It’s time to refocus.
My whole purpose is to protect Wilde’s End.
Without that, I’m worthless.
CHAPTER
TWELVE
SASHA
“Oh, look, a rabbit’s been dropped at my door.” Booker’s chilling blue eyes move to Wilde. “What do you expect me to do with this vermin?”
“You’re the one who’s been asking for him.”
“You do know in some parts, rabbits are considered pests and eradicated.”
Wilde huffs, and I know that he’s already frustrated by whatever happened with Lynx that he doesn’t have the patience for Booker too. “Not in these parts.”
“Pity. We’ll have to find another game to play.” Booker steps aside. “Hop to it.”
“Cute,” I grumble, walking into his doctor’s office as I ponder what fuckery awaits me today. I’m no happier with this arrangement than Wilde is. I know it would have come to this eventually if I wanted my car fixed, but I don’t like that I’m here because of Lynx. He’s fighting harder than I thought, and if I want a chance to watch him crumble, I’m not going to get it here. I need time with him. Need to work out what exactly it takes to get under his skin.
“That’s an interesting accoutrement,” Booker says, eyes lingering on the machete. “Was it a fight to the death?”
“No.”
Booker lights up. “Does Lynx need medical assistance?”
Maybe I should find it creepy how much that thought excites him, but I’m too busy trying to pick whether his reaction is an act or if he’s really that easy to read. “No.”
“Hmm …” He drums his fingers against his meaty thigh. “No need to worry. He’ll visit me one day. You don’t spend your time playing with knives without an excellent relationship with your doctor.”
