Page 7
I failed.
My teeth clench as I scrub my face with both hands. The thing is, I highly doubt he’s a risk anymore. He’s too naive and lets out any thoughts in his mind. Definitely not the criminal mastermind I’d been picturing. Still, that doesn’t change the fact that he’s an outsider, and outsiders will always bring problems.
“Can you believe he thought you were my pet?” I ask Bob.
Bob doesn’t answer, of course—he’s an animal—but the indignation heavy in my words is reflected in Bob’s stare. He belongs to no one. He showed up one day, barely more than a cub, and never left.
I don’t feed him; I don’t lock him up. I might have built him a bed to sleep on inside, but that was only so he’d stop whining at the door each night and trying to climb into my bed.
I’m still waiting for the day that Bob decides I’m his next meal.
Why else would he have guarded me so ferociously all these years?
A low-hum motor catches my ears over the sounds of tittering birds and the trees bowing to the breeze. It’s as familiar as a fingerprint, and I pull my gaze away from Sasha and back toward my house in time to see Wilde’s truck pull to a stop beside it.
Looks like the workday is over, and I can get back to things I had planned instead of guarding prey.
Even as Wilde approaches us, Sasha doesn’t look up once. My frustration only grows deeper.
“Hey,” Wilde grunts when he reaches me. “Did he get everything done?”
“Just about.” We’re out of earshot, but the fact that he hasn’t picked up on our presence at all only proves my point from earlier. He’s going to die. I don’t know how he hasn’t already.
“Good. He’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Can’t you have him be someone else’s problem?”
Wilde’s gaze turns my way, and it’s odd to see so much of his face. Normally, his beard is so overgrown it covers just about everything, but since falling for an outsider, he’s changed. The Wilde I first met never would have allowed the rabbit to stay.
“He’s doing your work for you,” Wilde points out. “How is that a problem?”
“Because I have to stand guard over him all day.”
His thick eyebrows bristle. “Who asked you to do that?”
“No one.” I can’t help the scowl that crosses my face. People don’t ask me for help; I just do it. Because it has to be done.
“Then why are you?” Wilde waves a hand toward him. “He’s picking vegetables. It’s not exactly dangerous work.”
“Danger comes when you least expect it.”
“Here? In the crop fields?”
We’ve been secluded in Wilde’s End for too long. I see it with my cubs all the time. The false safety that isolating brings. Yes, the human threats around here are few and far between, but they’re never zero. Nothing is. So acting as though we’re safe out here without knowing what could be lurking behind the tree line is a fast way to get ourselves killed.
“Look at him,” I say, some of my frustration pushing to the surface. “He hasn’t looked around once. He doesn’t even know we’re here.”
“His name is Sasha,” Wilde says, confusion in his voice. “And he’s in the middle of nowhere. Why does he need to look around?”
“Because it’s what anyone with an ounce of self-preservation would do.”
“Wait … I thought you meant you were standing guard to protect us from him. You’re standing guard to protect Sasha?”
“Not like he’s giving me a choice.”
Wilde shifts, whole body turning to face me. “Why do you care? I thought you hated him.”
I avoid Wilde’s eyes. It’s easier to let people think I hate them than to let them in on my real feelings: I hate myself. There are very good reasons for it, but the most recent one is not being able to follow through with Sasha. All I have to offer Wilde’s End is my protection, and I couldn’t even give them that.
