Page 82 of The Thief

Bear tossed the biscuit at him, and Virgil barely caught it with one hand.

Virgil ate it slower than the first, savoring the buttery crust. “Now that you’re in good with Calvin, do you think you could buy me a bottle of that Wild Rabbit?”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“Only sometimes. If you had to live in my mind, you’d be out of it too.” Virgil rose and wandered to the window, where the sky was lightening to an orange hue. “You wouldn’t have to supervise me if I drank it at home. Everyone’s always so afraid that Virgil Nightingale will ruin their reputation and embarrass them. Blah-blah-blah.”

Bear wanted to ask more about that, but his mind was occupied. He hoped his threat to the Mage last night had sunk in. If Argento felt the pack supported Mercy, he wouldn’t risk coming around or blackmailing her. That didn’t mean he’d give up, though, not while Mercy possessed an invaluable diamond.

What were they going to do about that small detail? If word got out, this pack would be targeted by every thief and opportunist who got wind of it. That wasn’t a secret you could count on everyone keeping, so it was best they kept it from the pack.

Virgil sat next to Bear, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Everything okay with Shortcake?”

“I don’t know. You’re not gonna blab to anyone about us, are you? We still haven’t figured things out.”

Virgil straightened his legs and crossed them at the ankles. “Some secrets are necessary evils. Just be sure to invite me in on them. Should you ever need an alibi, I’m your man.”

“What’s this about an alibi?” Archer padded into the living room, his hair messed up and sticking out in every direction. He adjusted himself over his grey sweatpants before sitting on the hearth.

Virgil folded his arms. “Bear wants to play hooky from work so he can help with the fence.”

Archer rubbed his eyes. “Bad move unless you’re trying to get fired. We’ve got it covered. Besides, everyone’s coming home today, so we’ll have extra hands.”

“Mum’s the word about the horse,” Virgil reminded them.

Archer leaned on his hand. “As far as I’m concerned, everything ran smoothly while they were gone. I don’t need the alpha thinking we can’t handle our shit for four days. I even brushed his horse last night and made sure she looked extra nice.”

Virgil sprang to his feet. “What if he takes her out for a ride and runs into Kevin?”

Bear shook his head. “Montana had a talk with him. Kevin doesn’t want people getting the wrong idea about what went down, so he’s not talking.”

Virgil chuckled and sang “Let’s Get It On” while heading to the kitchen.

Archer glanced down at his chest. “That’s too bad about Mercy. Seventy years—gone.” He shook his head. “That’s a shitty deal. Someone must have really had it in for her. Does she know what that Mage wants? I hope she knows we have her back. Mercy’s like a sister to me, and nobody fucks with my sister. I don’t even like wolves leering at the women in this house. You know? They’re good girls. And Mercy? Nobody’s good enough for her. She’s like the pack mother who lifts everyone’s spirits. Anytime I’m feeling shitty, I can always count on her to make me laugh.”

Bear slowly nodded, careful not to engage in the conversation since there were secrets to be kept.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you without a shirt,” Archer remarked. “I thought maybe you were covered in naked-lady tattoos.” Archer stood and stretched his arm. “What are you so shy about? I’m the one with the missing arm. I’ll trade bodies with you any day.”

Bear stood and bent over to pick up the empty plate.

“Uh… sorry,” Archer bit out, making a quick retraction of his cheerful tone. “I should learn to keep my mouth shut.”

Bear realized Archer had noticed the scars on his back. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.”

While he still had his guard up, Bear was learning to let go of the past. He wasn’t that same foolhardy boy with no control over his emotions. Years of working as a bodyguard had taught him how to dial back his anger and choose his battles.

That deep-seated fear of his packmates turning on him was still there, but every day they earned his trust a little more.

“Really, man. I’m sorry for shooting off my mouth,” Archer went on. “You and I both know it’s not nothing.” He rubbed his left shoulder, eyes downcast. “I don’t know what you’ve been through, so I need to stop all my trauma drama. That’s what Krys used to call it. But hell, some things are hard to get over. I guess you probably know that.”

Bear wondered if the crown of thorns tattoo on Archer’s neck was connected to his being a tripod or if he’d gotten it before he lost his arm. Had he gotten his front leg caught in a barbed fence? Since he never talked about his tattoos, it was best not to ask. Archer was undoubtedly wondering about Bear’s scars, but he didn’t say anything either.

Instead, the two men exchanged a look of understanding. Sometimes silence said more than words.

* * *

Waking up, I felt rested. The men had extricated themselves from my bedroom during the night, including Virgil’s wolf, who was too hyperactive to sit still for long. While lingering in my hot shower, I processed everything in the letter that I’d written to myself, and my feelings hadn’t changed. I’d spent years wanting those memories back. Seventy years was a long time, and there had to have been good stuff mixed in. But in my heart, I knew I would never be the same person if my memories were restored. I would become her again, and I wasn’t sure what that entailed.

---