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“I know.”

“I walked up that path to kill you.” She traced her fingers along my jawline. “And you knew. The whole time, you knew what I was to you.” She placed her hand over my heart. “You invited me in anyway. Poured me tea. You let me hold a knife at your table as I considered my options. You let me decide.”

A tear slipped down her cheek. She didn’t wipe it away.

“Nobody,” she whispered, “has ever given me a choice before.”

RUBY

Yes. I want this.

The words were right there, pressing against my teeth, the easiest thing in the world to say while Conan kneeled beside me in front of his fire with his heart laid open and my palm flat against his chest. Yes. One syllable. I’d said harder things with a knife in my hand.

But he’d given me a choice. The first real one of my life and the biggest decision yet.

“I need to think about what all this means,” I said.

Just hearing those words come out of my mouth filled me with immediate regret. But it was the truth. I needed time. So much had happened today, facing the Order. Facing my grandmother. And those ugly words she’d said about my parents would haunt me for a long time.

But she was gone.

Despite the pain she’d caused, she’d still raised me in her perverse way, and it would take time to come to terms with her death.

“Of course.” Understanding flickered on Conan’s face, as if he’d expected this, that I wouldn’t be ready. He covered my hand with his and held it there against his heart.

When the fire died down, we went to his bed in the room at the back of the house, beneath a heap of furs. He drew me back against him. Our bodies pressed tight, he stroked my hair. Soothing, so soothing. I listened to him breathe as I drifted off.

The next morning, Conan found furs to cover me. They were far too large for my frame but kept out the bite of the winter day. I found Gage at the river.

He sat on a flat rock at the water’s edge where the current ran shallow over stones, a heavy coat around his shoulders. He appeared even younger than nineteen. He had a long, narrow face and dark hair that fell into his eyes, and he was studying the water as if it had answers.

He heard me coming. I could tell by the slight way his body moved as I approached.

I stopped a few paces away.

“Gage, may I sit?”

A long pause followed. Then a shrug.

I sat on the next rock over, not too close. For a while, neither of us spoke. The river ran past, clear and cold, loud with snowmelt.

I’d spent the whole night deciding how to say it. Every version had sounded like an excuse, when there was none.

“I know,” Gage said.

I blinked slowly.

He still hadn’t looked at me. “Imogene told me. The night you gave her the names.” His voice was flat, carefully so, like a man walking across ice. “I’ve been out on the north line thinking about it, every night, running in the dark, and every day.” His jaw tightened. “I know you killed my mother.”

The river rushed on. I made myself sit still and let him say what he needed to.

“I also know you saved my life yesterday.” Now he turned his head, and his eyes were red-rimmed and furious. “You put yourself out there for all of us. Our pack.”

I didn’t know how to respond, so I didn’t.

“So I don’t know what I think,” he said. “Or what I feel. Not right now. Maybe not for a long time.” He looked back at the water. “What I do know is that it doesn’t change the fact that she’s dead and I don’t forgive you for taking her from me.”

The river bubbled by as I sought words. “I understand,” I said softly. “And I’m sorry.” I placed my hand over my heart. “With more regret than I could ever try to explain.”