Page 135 of Ruthless Ends

There’s a moment of panic after the calm, when I search the crowd for my friends. The tightness in my chest doesn’t relent until I’ve verified with my own eyes that everyone’s okay. Bloody and dirty and bruised, but alive.

I search for Reid through the bond when I don’t see him, and it gives a strong pull, as if letting me know he’s all right. I follow the feeling until I spot him across the field offering whatever aid he can. He meets my eyes for a moment with a small smile and nod, then gets back to work.

“You did it.” Kirby takes my face between her hands, her own stained with blood from a cut hidden somewhere in her hairline. “How are you feeling? Are you okay?”

Monroe joins us and crushes us into a hug before we can respond, tears streaming down her face. “Thank God you’re both all right.”

“Can I get some help over here?”

I follow Daniel’s voice and take off at a run. Wes is on the ground, his partner at his side. Daniel kneels by Wes’s head, pushing the bloody hair back from his face.

“He has a pulse and he’s breathing,” says Daniel. “But I can’t wake him up.”

“We should get him inside,” I say, falling to my knees as I search Wes for any visible injuries.

“I’ve got him.” A figure appears, momentarily blocking the light from the moon, and I crane my head back. Leif bends to scoop Wes’s limp form into his arms, lifting him with no visible effort. His eyes cut to Daniel, scanning him for injury. “You all right?”

Daniel nods.

“The other wolves?” I ask.

“They’re all good,” says Leif, heading for the compound.

Dried blood coats the side of his head, and there’s a slight limp to his walk. “Leif, are you—”

“I’m fine,” he insists as we slip through the door and follow the stream of people already heading toward the hospital.

The infirmary buzzes with noise and movement as we step inside, but we manage to find a bed for Wes near the back corner. As we settle him on his back, his eyes crack open. He extends a hand, and I glance around for the others, but they must have gotten lost in the crowd on the way here.

Despite probably being the last person he wants to see, I take his hand and pull a chair beside his head. I prepare myself for him to yank his hand away, for that same disgust I’d seen on the train to fill his face, but he just stares at me, his eyes a little wide.

“You’re okay,” I murmur. “We’ve got you.”

He squeezes my fingers, and tears sting my eyes.

“Wes, I can’t tell you how sorry I am about Beth.”

“I know,” he rasps.

“We should try to flag down a doctor…” I trail off when I realize Leif isn’t beside me anymore. I search the room. Maybe he went back outside? But then I notice Cam on the opposite side of the hospital. I frown, rising to my feet to see what drew him over there, and freeze when I realize it’s Anya.

She’s sitting up in her bed, a bag of blood hanging on an IV stand beside her head. Cam stands with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, a scowl firmly in place, but every time Anya moves an inch, his gaze cuts back to her.

“Sorry—sorry. I’m here.” Daniel appears through the crowd, and I step away so he can take my seat. “Oh good, you’re awake. Val, your sisters were looking for you in the hall. Don’t worry, they were both fine.”

“Thanks, Daniel.” I squeeze his shoulder before heading that way.

But when I break through the sea of people heading for the hospital, it isn’t my sisters I find.

My mother stands by the windows with her back to me. There’s a perfect view of the field from here, and she stares at the platform, specifically, the post she’d been chained to. Her arms are loosely holding each other in front of her stomach in a stance that looks far too…vulnerable for her. She doesn’t move as I approach. Even as I step up beside her, her gaze remains on that post.

The post the father of her children chained her to and had every intention of watching her die on.

My father was not a topic up for discussion after he left. What I knew about him growing up mostly came from others and my own memories warped with time. She couldn’t even stand to hear me play the violin, which was why I’d gotten so used to practicing in the gardens. For a while, I’d thought it was because she was angry about the cheating. That she’d never been a particularly emotional or sentimental person anyway, so talking about the past was a waste of time to her.

But looking at her face now, I can see how wrong I was.

For better or worse, she loved him, at least at one time. But even now, I can see it in her eyes that she never expected him to turn on her, to be willing tokillher. She’d thought she would be safe with him.

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