Page 65 of Wrath
He took another nibble of his food, effectively dismissing them all.
Lilo took Misha by the hand. “Come on, I’ll show you where you can stay.” She paused. “Do you want me to take you to Wyatt’s apartment, or the guest rooms?”
Part of Misha wanted to go to Wyatt. She completely understood where he was coming from, but at the same time, she’d been right. He didn’t know her, and Misha would do anything to protect her family. If he couldn’t understand that, then their relationship was doomed before it began.
“The guest rooms,” she said. “I think I need to give Wyatt some space.”
Thirty
PuttingMisha back in the line of danger wasn’t sitting well. To cool down, Wyatt had retreated to the basement operations room. But after staring at the mannequin that held his Deadly Seven combat suit, a plan began to take shape in his mind. If he could work out the mechanics of the suit, then perhaps he wouldn’t need Misha’s help with Dimitri. Perhaps he could do it on his own.
Unease squirmed in his gut, along with a grimy sense of wrath he felt above the basement HQ, perhaps in the restaurant. Someone was angry. Another wrath signature blinked into existence behind him. He turned toward the elevator entrance as it approached. When it crested the room, Wyatt jolted, surprised to see Sloan shuffling in, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.
Not who he expected, but still… she could give him a rundown of how to use the suit. “Good. You’re here. I need your help, Sloanie.”
She paused. Blinked. For a moment, he thought perhaps her slothful sin had petrified her, but then her wrath flared so sharply that his eyes watered. His little sister’s eyes shifted from glazed vacancy to bright and vehement.
“I need your help, Sloanie?” She repeated in a mocking tone laced with bitterness. Her blanket fell to the ground revealing the devastatingly slim body wasting away. Her sweats hung from her hips. Her camisole sagged over her shoulders. There was no meat left on her. No muscle.“I need your help?Where were you, Wyatt, when we all neededyourhelp? Where were you when I needed your help!”
Stunned into silence, Wyatt’s mind scrambled with the realization, all that wrath was because of him. “Sloan?”
He stepped forward, and she backed off. “Don’t.”
“But…”
“Screw you, Wyatt. You know, maybe Sara was right. Maybe you really are a dumbass.”
He narrowed his eyes. Really? But then her bravado collapsed. Tears overflowed from her eyes. “You used to cook for me. I confided in you. You were the only one who knew what I was really going through, and you just left! You left!”
Wyatt winced. While he’d been running around the country, stewing in his own anger and hatred, his sister was slowly fading away. Fuck, he’d been selfish. He’d been so caught up with his own miserable life that he’d never stopped to consider he should have been helping his family too.
She sat down on a stool next to the operations table and looked at her feet. For fuck’s sake she wasn’t even wearing shoes. He couldn’t make up for his dumbassery, but he could comfort her and make amends. He went to her and enveloped her skinny frame, hugging tight. She didn’t try to resist, just sat there, bone weary.
“I’m sorry,” he said into her hair. “I thought you were dating someone. I assumed it was all fine.”
“Never assume, bras.”
“I know. It makes an ass out of—”
“—You and me.”
They laughed half-heartedly. It was a Flintism. Something he used to say to them when they were younger. Apparently, he’d made an assumption growing up, and it cost people lives.
“It wasn’t fine,” Sloan sobbed, wiping her eyes. “And I only dated that loser because I couldn’t be bothered saying no.”
“You’re right. You needed me, and I wasn’t there.”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” Wyatt replied. “I was too bullheaded to admit it then, but heartache is heartache. It hurts everyone. I’m sorry he stood you up, Sloan.”
She leaned into Wyatt and sobbed, her arms finally moving around his body and clutching tight. He ran his hand down her head, muttering soft words to her. A few years ago, the same time Wyatt had been dealing with the betrayal of Sara, Sloan had suffered her own betrayal. A man she’d fallen in love with, her best friend she’d only known from a distance, had agreed to meet in real life. There was a time when all Sloan talked about was her Max. Someone as quirky, as vibrant, and as energetic as she once used to be. They’d spent hours playing online games together, hours chatting online, hours video calling… years falling in love.
At the time, Sloan and Wyatt were the only ones in the family in a relationship. They’d been happy. Wyatt had to give Sara that. For a little while, he’d been happy, and that happiness had bled through to his relationship with his youngest sister. The two of them had bonded, had each other’s backs when the rest of the siblings expressed their skepticism for love.
And then Sara had died. The Deadly Seven were blamed for the explosion that killed others. Sloan’s man never turned up to meet her, and she was convinced it was because he believed the news reports, that he’d discovered Sloan’s true identity and decided she wasn’t worth it—that she was evil. For two years, Sloan and Wyatt shared in each other’s misery. When Wyatt left, he had no idea he’d been the one holding Sloan together.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my mistakes, it’s accepting help from the ones who love you. If I had done that in the first place, instead of leaving, we wouldn’t be in this mess.” His throat tightened when he thought of Evan’s persistence about Sara’s true nature, his unwavering faith in Wyatt, despite Wyatt treating him like trash. Fuck, he owed Evan a lot. “So, I’m giving you my help whether you want it or not.”
