Page 34 of Shadow Bound

“My loss?” I repeat before it clicks. “Oh.” No one has ever told me they’re sorry about Alexandre dying, because for the most part, they’re not. They saw him as the soulless monster he was at the end. They don’t know that for the first seven years of his life, he was caring and kind. He shut off his humanity to survive the horrors we were put through. He shut his off completely and I just buried mine as deep as I could so no one could see it or take it. That part of me was turned off for a long time and when I saw the woman in front of me sob over her deceased mate, it slowly started to breathe again.

The more time I spend around Ransom the more alive it’s becoming and that terrifies me. Emotions make you weak—vulnerable. I’m not allowed to be either. I need to start burying that side of me again before I do something I’ll regret.

“You don’t have to apologize,” I mumble uncomfortably.

She shoves her thick hair over her shoulder, mussing the bangs that sit on her forehead. “I’m not apologizing because I’m sorry he’s dead.” Her bluntness takes me by surprise. “I think, like a lot of the people under Sterling’s twisted thumb, the world is probably a safer place without him here. I am, however, sorry that you lost your brother. No one should have to witness their family members dying in front of them. Even if that family member was a psycho with a flashy set of fangs.” She tries to joke but fails. Awkward air blooms between us. “Anywho, despite what he was, I’m sorry you lost him.” I can tell by her expression and tone of voice, she’s being sincere.

I find myself staring at her, not knowing what to say. There’s something in her eyes—a look—I recognize in myself. We’ve both been through some kind of trauma. That kind of thing doesn’t just go away, it leaves a scar on your soul. Winslow and I both have matching battle wounds on our souls—they’re marred and ugly. At least she has Ranger now to smooth out those ugly marks. Mine are still jagged and sharp. It’s obvious Winslow has used her suffering to make her stronger, braver even. Mine just made me cold and withdrawn.

Clearing my throat, I tilt my chin in the direction of the closed door she’d just come through. “Does your mate know you’re out here? I don’t get the impression he’d want you alone with me.”

Winslow snorts. “Much to Ranger’s utter dismay, I don’t follow his orders. If I want to do something, I’m going to do it. He can either get on board or shut the fuck up.” Winslow plops down on the concrete slab across from me, sitting with her legs crossed under her. There is no wariness in her eyes, no signs of distrust. She’s either really brave or wildly reckless. No wonder her mate wouldn’t let her come here alone; I get the impression this girl doesn’t bat an eye at danger.

“Are all the Weylyn men domineering?”

“You have no idea.” She rolls her doll-like eyes. “I think it’s just in the Weylyn genetics to be bossy. Remington is just as bad as the guys. Ryker is probably the worst though. Pruitt would just laugh in his face if he tried to tell her what to do.” She grins like she’s remembering a specific memory. I don’t miss that she talks about Pruitt in the past tense. I feel a twinge of remorse in my chest, even though I know she’s not actually dead. “Why? Is Ransom trying to boss you around?”

“Trying being the operative word.”

Winslow smirks. “I would actually love to see him try. You’d probably put him on his ass before he could finish getting the words out. I’m sure he’ll learn pretty quickly that you don’t take orders very well.”

“I don’t take orders from anyone… not anymore anyway.”

“Good for you,” she praises before she gives me a look I’m not quite familiar with.

“What?”

“So, Ransom?”

“What about him?” I frown.

“Nothing,” She shrugs her narrow shoulders, but the look doesn’t go away. “You guys just seem…close. I’ve never seen him go against Ranger before—they’re usually on the same page about everything.”

I jerk back, almost like she’d hit me with her words. “Ransom…”Is dangerous for my unstable mind? Fascinating in a way I’ve never experienced before? A genuinely good man I have no business being around? Or, all of the above?I let out a sigh, leaning my head against the wall again, my head spinning with images of a shirtless Ransom. “Nothing is going on with Ransom. He shouldn’t have defended me the way he did today. Ranger had valid concerns.”

“Mhmm,” she mumbles, clearly not believing me.

I don’t have time to argue with her about it because the door to the motel room opens and two almost identical shifters walk out. It’s weird looking at the two of them side by side. Ransom is a little bulkier than Ranger, not by much though. Both are the exact same height, if I had to guess, I’d say around six foot four. Their facial features are the same, but I know Ranger has dimples when he smiles, even though he’sdefinitelynot smiling at me right now. Ransom has a scar that runs through his left eyebrow that I’m somehow just now paying actual attention to.

“Arizona,” Ranger growls, displeased to see her out here with me.

“White Fang,” she offers back dryly.

My eyes narrow at the nicknames, it’s clear that along with the similar looks and their overbearing natures, the Weylyn’s have a thing for giving people nicknames.

“What are you doing out here?” Ranger asks his mate.

“What does it look like I’m doing out here?”

“It looks like you’re doing exactly what I told you not to do.”

“We’ve been through this; I don’t take orders. I do, on occasion, take suggestions, and you’re more than welcome to write them down and put them in my suggestion box.” When Ranger’s eyes flare with annoyance and anger, Winslow rolls her eyes and huffs out an annoyed breath. Climbing to her feet, dusting off her backside with her hands, she leans against her mate. His arms instinctively circle around her small waist, holding her close to him. He doesn’t waste any time before he starts to lead her back inside.

“Wasn’t Sawyer’s bone sticking out like thatkindacool?” I hear her say before the door closes.

She finds baby drool gross but an exposed bone cool? What an odd girl.

Fuck.

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