Page 119 of Fangs
“Sam, I can’t…I can’t let you get hurt for me.”
“Emmy,” his voice was so quiet and pained. “You’re askin’ me to be alright withyougettin’ hurt forallof us, and I’m not gonna try to talk you out of it ’cause you’re stubborn as a fuckin’ mule, but gods, please let me come with you.”
“The last time I let somebody come with me—” I choked out, but I couldn’t finish.
“I know,” he squeezed my hand hard again. “But he made that choice, and I’m makin’ this one. Please, don’t take that choice from me. I don’t have many left.”
I stared at him with tears sliding down my face, but my protests died at the tears glimmering inhiseyes. He was letting me see this pain he’d been carrying, and I hated that he felt useless, that his only available option wasthis.His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, but then he shifted and, with his free hand, pulledanotherhandkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to me.
“Besides, if I don’t come with you, who’s gonna supply you with all these quality kerchiefs?”
I couldn’t tell if I was laughing or crying as I took it and wiped my wet face. It was a familiar feeling, the nausea of fear and the relief and gratitude all mixed together. I wanted to refuse, but I kept wrestling with the memory of Trey telling me I was trying to control everything.
Finally, I let out a shaky breath. “Ok.”
His eyes lit up. “Yeah?”
“On one condition.”
“Ok, let’s hear it.”
“You have to promise to try to stay alive.” My voice wobbled, but I held his gaze.
He suddenly held up his free hand with only his little finger sticking out. “We’ll swear an oath.”
I furrowed my brow, confused.
He rolled his eyes at me. “C’mon, gimme your finger.”
I copied him, and he gripped my little finger with his, wrapping them together. “I swear I’ll try my damndest to stay alive.” He looked at me expectantly.
“I swear I’ll let you come with me,” I said shakily.
He squeezed my finger once more and then released it. “There’s magic in that oath, so don’t you dare break it.”
Fifteen minutes later, the door burst open, and Wolf must have fucking sprinted up the ladder with how fast he appeared. Sam and I jumped, staring at him—me from where I sat on the mattress against the wall writing in the healer’s notebook, and Sam from where he was lying beside me, tossing a pair of rolled-up socks in the air like a ball.
Wolf went from furious to confused to irritated at a speed that made me dizzy. “Brought you both some dinner.”
He stalked over to hand me my broth and tossed Sam his ration. Sam was grinning madly, and Wolf glared at him, his jaw flexing.
“We’re not fucking,” I stated calmly.
Wolf’s head snapped toward me. “What?”
“Sam and I,” I took a sip of broth, “we’re not fucking.”
Wolf looked at Sam.
“What are you lookin’ at me for? She’s not lyin’,” Sam said, sitting up to unwrap his food.
Wolf glared at us a moment longer before storming back to the ladder and disappearing. We listened to the clinic door slam shut.
“What are you gonna do when youdowant to fuck someone?” Sam asked, taking a bite of his sandwich.
Pain stabbed through me, but I forced myself to push it down, to pretend like the thought of being intimate with someone didn’t make the broken shards of my heart dig deeper into my flesh.
“Convince you to create a diversion?”
