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Kyrian looms behind the bar, all tattoos and narrow eyes, placing a hand on Roman’s shoulder. “You okay?”
“Peachy,” I finally say, the bitterness in my voice betraying me.
“What’s wrong?” Archer asks, leaning against the bar.
“Nothing.”
“Are you ready, then?”
“What for?”
“To go see Brinlee, of course.”
I give a short laugh. “No. She doesn’t want to see me.”
“Bullshit.”
“I met her at the library. She pretended not to know me.”
“We’re not dealing with Brinlee your friend right now.” Archer drums his fingers on the bar, his expression thoughtful. “She’s reverted to the Baby Doll persona. Don’t you see? That’s where we need to find her and confront her. And help her.”
“You’re not making any sense,” I grumble. “Why would she prefer that? What makes you think she wants to see us at all?”
“Gut feeling. She’s hiding. Hiding a secret that made her take that job. We’re going to the source of her pain, to prod that wound.”
“She’ll hate us,” I say.
“But at least she’ll let us help.”
“I doubt that.”
He thumps his fist on the bar. “Don’t be a party pooper, Sawyer, and jump in the car. We will convince her, one way or another.”
“To accept our help?”
“To accept us. Our presence. Our interest. Are you in or not?”
Fuck, I shouldn’t be. I’m meeting the last pack tomorrow and then… then I need to make up my mind and choose one. This pack, so affectionate, so interested in saving Brinlee, hasn’t invited me to join them. Not as a pack.
So there’s my answer.
I have no choice.
And yet I climb into the car with them because I can’t help myself. They’re like a drug, and I want more, for as long as I can get it.
At least, I have her book to give her. I bought it for her. If she doesn’t want it, she can just throw it away, or—I wince at the thought of a book thrown into the trash—give it to someone who will appreciate it.
“Let’s go.”
This isn’t hiding, at least, I tell myself, trying to ignore the fact that I let them haul me along, letting inertia work for me. Instead of choosing a path, I let them choose it for me.
It nettles me. Bothers me.
And yet being with them is a relief. The need to be around them, as much as the need to see her, feels as vital as breathing. I couldn’t have stayed back if I tried.
We roll through the streets and I’m sitting in the back with Kyrian. He’s staring right ahead, but sometimes I catch him watching me.
“What’s that?” he asks when I take the book from under my jacket to place it in my lap.
