“Cos you already know? And you think it’s okay that all these weeks—these fuckin’months—I thought I was protecting her, when you fuckin’knewthat being around me was putting her in more danger? What the ever-loving fuck is wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong withyou?” Nash growled. “Even if you think I’m that thick, do you seriously think anyone else would put Orla at more risk than all the shite she was born with?”
“Who else knew?”
“Cam. Alexei. Saint. Rubi.”
“That’s it?”
“Me and Ranger too. But yeah, that’s it. We kept it close.”
“You kept itsecret,” Locke countered. “And you’re not giving me any sensible reasons why.”
“That what you want right now?” Nash stepped forward, still reaching for Locke on instinct, but his hands balled into fists. “Sensible? Or do you want to deck me?”
“Does it matter what I want?”
“Of course it does.”
Locke’s sneer returned, his eyes darkening. Then his gaze hazed over, as if a reel played behind his eyelids, a private horror film he couldn’t share, and I shifted my weight, unease creeping through me.
I’d seen this before in veteran brothers. In Cam when what had happened to Saint and to Embry had been the final straws in a long line of trauma.
This isn’t him.
The alarm bell rang louder this time and I suddenly wished Cam was here. Nash was too close to this. Too hurt by it.
We both were.
Weallwere.
Nash stepped forward again, closing the distance between him and Locke, making a visible effort to contain his frustration.
He stopped a foot away. “Brother?—”
Locke shoved at his chest. “Get the fuck away from me.”
It wasn’t a hard push, but Nash recoiled as if he’d been burned. Then it registered, and instinct kicked in, fight or flight, settling onfight.
He exploded forward, and I pushed off the wall, darting across the garage to get between them. Nash and Locke weren’t scrawny kids scrapping in the park. They were muscle on muscle, built for war, mutual destruction assured.
I jumped in front of Nash, staying him with one hand, banking on his level-headed nature to kick in first.
My other hand landed on Locke’s chest, his solid warmth to my skin, his heart thudding like crazy against my palm.
His heart never beat that fast, and more unease swamped me. Trusting Nash to stay put, I edged closer to Locke, bringing my other hand to his hip. “Hey,” I whispered. “I know you’re angry, but you won’t make anything right like this.”
Locke said nothing, his gaze still a blank haze of fury, and it just about killed me. He didn’t deserve this, to be so haunted by fury that he couldn’t see what was right in front of him.
That he couldn’t seeNash.
I’d been there, and I knew how much it hurt, the guilt that came after. The grief of knowing I’d left fresh wounds on the first heart I’d ever claimed as my own.
“Locke. We love you. Talk to us? Please?”
For a fleeting moment, his eyes cleared enough to be the ones I knew. He took my hand from his chest, lacing our fingers together, and I stared down my protector, my lover, and myfriend.
I saw him.