Page 77 of The Devil's Wrath

“You’ve been glued to your phone, barely looking up. Did you think you could move her into the manor without me knowing?”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Was it that obvious?”

He laughed, his deep baritone filling the study. “To me, it was. I keep tabs on everything that goes on around here. I knew the night of the quarry that you brought a girl home, probably before she stepped inside. Have you spoken to your father?”

“Not yet. I need to introduce her to him, to all of them. I know they will require some form of a Ceremony, I’m just not sure how to broach the topic.”

“I mean, I think your father is the more lenient of our fathers, and perhaps you and he can discuss a better way of completing the Ceremony and satisfying the tradition.”

“You’re right.”

“Does her brother know?” he asked.

Fuck. I’d forgotten all about Gage. That was a conversation I had been inadvertently putting off under the ruse of waiting for the right time. “Wait. How did you know who she was?”

Archer smiled. “It’s kind of my job to keep an eye on everyone and everything. I’ve noticed you’ve been distant, and I needed to make sure it wasn’t anything I needed to worry about or support you in.”

I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face. “Gage doesn’t know yet. With everything going on—Haven in the hospital, training for my fights, the shit with Igor, and all the spying and infiltrating I’ve been doing for everyone—I haven’t found the right moment to talk to him about it.”

Archer leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “I get it, man. I do. I know you’ve been spread thin, and believe me when I tell you, the sacrifices you’ve been making haven’t gone unnoticed. Thatsaid, Gage deserves to know, and the longer you wait, the harder it will be on the both of you.”

I nodded. I knew he was right. But while Gage had been loyal to us and The Brotherhood for years, I knew how he felt about us, especially with women. He knew about the Hunt and how we’d all fucked our way through New York every week. I doubt he’d be thrilled to find out that I had claimed and fucked his sister six ways to Sunday.

“I’ll break the news to him soon, I promise.”

Archer gave me a sympathetic look. “Sooner rather than later, brother. You don’t want this hanging over your head any longer than necessary. And speaking of your mystery girl, when do we get to officially meet her?”

I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of introducing her to my brothers. “Soon. I want to make sure she’s settled in and comfortable first. It’s a big adjustment, living here at the manor, especially since she’s so goddamn independent . . . and stubborn. You know, I remember her mother. Stubborn as a mule. My father spoke about how she kept Thomas in line and often helped steer him into decisions that were best for The Brotherhood and the legacy they were creating and leaving for their children.”

“Sounds like Wrenly takes after Margaret then.” Archer chuckled. “That’s good for you. It’s about time you found someone to share your life with.” He gave me a wry smile, then looked like he disappeared into his mind. I watched him for a moment before he blinked and returned his gaze to me. “You know, that night, I remember coming up to the wreck. The flames were so fucking hot.”

My thoughts drifted back to that night as he spoke.

The flames licked at the night sky, casting an eerie orange glow across the twisted metal and shattered glass covering the road. As we approached the wreckage, a sense of dread settled into the pit of my stomach. I knew even before I saw the bodies that this was no ordinary crash. The stench of burning rubber and scorched flesh assaulted my nostrils, making my eyes water, prompting us to put our masks on.

Archer placed a steadying hand on my shoulder as we surveyed the carnage. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath. “What the hell happened here?”

“Fuck,” Kai’s voice cut through the crackling of the flames. “Is that . . .?”

I hadn’t thought there was any way anyone could still be alive until I heard screaming and crying. And then we saw them . . . The Morgans were trapped in the wreckage.

Without thinking, I rushed to the car, coughing and choking on the thick black smoke billowing from the chaos. The heat was intense, singeing my hair and skin as I drew closer. Through the shattered windshield, I saw Margaret and Thomas, their bodies unnaturally still, blood trickling from their mouths and noses. But in the back seat, I could hear the cries of a woman—Wrenly.

“Hold on!” I shouted, my throat burning from the smoke. “I’m coming!”

I pulled at the twisted door, the hot metal scorching my hands, but it wouldn’t give way. Kai appeared beside me, his expression grim. Quickly removing my jacket, I wrapped it around my hand and reached in to find Wrenly. She was covered in blood and soot, her eyes full of fear, trembling uncontrollably. The seatbelt held her captive. I tried to pull it loose, but it was stuck fast. Taking my knife from my waistband, I cut through the strap, freeing her. I held her close, cradling her against my chest as I stumbled away from the burning car. She clung to me, her sobs muffled against my shirt as I carried her to safety.

Archer and Kai were already dragging Gage’s limp form from the twisted metal. Blood matted his hair and ran down his face, but I could see the faint rise and fall of his chest. He was alive, but barely. After they pulled Thomas and Margaret out, the car exploded, sending a shockwave of heat that threw us backward.

When Wrenly looked up at me, her eyes were filled with fear, grief, and something else I couldn’t place. The chaos swirled around us, and the flames continued to rage. The image of her terrified eyes and the sound of her anguished screams—they were seared into my mind, leaving a deep ache in my chest.

Sirens wailed in the distance as emergency vehicles raced to the scene. The paramedics gently pried her from my grasp to assess her injuries. I watched as they loaded her into the ambulance, an inexplicable sense of loss washing over me as the doors closed and the rig sped away.

Archer’s hand on my shoulder returned me to the smoky scene around me. “Fuck,” he breathed, his eyes fixed on the smoldering remains of the car. “Thomas and Margaret . . .”

I swallowed hard, the reality of the situation sinking in like a lead weight in my gut. The Morgans were gone, leaving behind a shattered family and a gaping hole in The Brotherhood’s leadership.

“This was no accident,” I said, my voice hoarse from the smoke.

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