Page 84 of Enspelled

“And because you couldn’t shift, some guy choked you unconscious.”

“Keane, you’re growling.”

“You’re damn fucking right I’m growling. What did Liam do to him, because—”

“Your claws are out.”

Her quiet voice silences me, and at first, I blink at her in confusion. But when I glance down, I discover that she’s right. My right hand is a hand no more, but wolf claws, and I have no memory of shifting. Thankfully my left, thankfully, the one I’m holding on to Briar with, is still just a hand.

I stare at the claw for several seconds in silence. “Only pups struggle with the ability to shift,” I say as I shift the claws back into a hand.

“But you’re not a pup.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Is it because of the souls? Are you—”

“No,” I interrupt. “Strong emotion can sometimes make it happen.”

“What kind of strong emotions?”

I glance at her before tugging at her hand so we can continue. “Anger, mostly.”

“Or fear,” she says.

“Yes.”

She shakes her head. “You still haven’t told me where we’re going or why.”

“We’re going to find where Layla Markham is hiding.”

“I’m not going to want to know what will happen when we find her, am I?”

I stop and turn to her. “You knew I came back to Madden Grove for one reason, Briar. She has to die.”

She gazes up at me. Not in horror or disgust, to my relief, but it’s clear that she isn’t comfortable with the idea of killing. “And if she wasn’t the one responsible?”

“Briar…”

“Look, I know you’re sure it’s her, but you were sure it was Diana Calla before. What if it wasn’t either of them? What if you end up killing someone who doesn’t deserve it?”

I snort. “After hearing the way she treated you and your aunt, she deserves it.”

“But who are you to make the judgment call about who gets to live and die?”

“I’m not making a judgment call here. I’m just telling it like it is. Layla isn’t walking away from this.”

Silence.

I tug on her hand. “Let’s go.”

She doesn’t move. “And then what? Killing Layla won’t bring your family back. How do you expect to feel?”

“I expect to feel fucking ecstatic that I killed the fucker who destroyed my world,” I snarl.

“I wonder if Dad would feel the same way about me,” she says, whisper-quiet. “He loved Mom so much; you should have seen them together. But I killed her. So if he’d survived, would he have wanted to—”

“He wouldn’t have hated you, Briar.” Shit, has she been carrying that thought around for years?

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