My peace slipped away, lodging in my throat.
“Then I’m going to pay your other bastard brother back for the kindness he did to my face.”
“No,” I answered him, my voice as deep and dark as the bay, “you won’t.”
My arms moved easily as I twisted, breaking free from his hold. The strength of my movement surprised him. Not as much as my claws as they buried in his chest.
Chaos erupted from the others as their ring leader fell. Some backed away, losing the shape of the beast and running into the shadows. The others came at me harder, tearing at every inch of me in a desperate attempt to take me down.
I didn’t fight back, staring at the bloody face of my wounded enemy—my fallen kin—as red encroached on my vision. I wasn’t sure if it was the blood loss, or the madness.
I couldn’t let death take me yet. My brothers weren’t safe.
Jacques wasn’t going to settle this the right way. He wasn’t going to settle this at all.
It would be me. It was always me.
First of the First.
Protector.
Executioner.
I was out of time, though. The world was a red blur. My arms were moving, claws slashing, and I couldn’t control them. Couldn’t stop them.
The madness was overtaking me, and there was only one way out.
I dove into the furthest depths of my mind, conjuring the faintest image of moonlight on black hair. Brown eyes. The scent of Jasmine and coffee and blueberry muffins.
Suddenly, I was running.
Away from the others. Away from my home. From Isaac’s territory.
From the bayou.
From everything except—yes.
There it was. A sliver of scent.
That uncomfortable wave of magic washed over me, Celine’s ward wrapping around me. Hiding me. Confusing my enemies as they ran up and down the roads of the bayou, following a trail that led everywhere and nowhere.
Until tonight, I wasn’t sure Celine kept her word. Had been too afraid to check the ward myself and lead Jacques straight here.
He didn’t know to look here. None of them did.
But it was a risk I wasn’t willing to take.
I crawled beneath the stilts of the small blue house, taking shallow, pained breaths. Blood left an ugly trail on the concrete behind me.
I couldn’t hide it now. Couldn’t do anything but staunch my wounds and curl protectively around my abdomen as the beast faded from my skin. Pale scabs formed across my body as he vanished.
I found the darkest corner beneath the house, between a plastic Adirondack chair and a kayak propped against the wall.
Soon the sun would rise, and I would have to leave. To make a careful journey to Isaac’s house to clean up before the others found me.
Before she found me.
My wounds were already closing. I should go now. While the others were confused. While my brothers were distracted.
I couldn’t move. Exhaustion was a weight on my body like I’d never known, and for once, I was safe to let it take me.
To come apart.
To be weak.
And I was weak. Weak for fighting. Weak for not fighting. Weak for the madness that was always right there at the surface, waiting for more blood. More death.
Weak because no matter how many times I forced myself away, I came back here, settling into the shadows beneath the house. Inhaling that comforting scent and dreaming of a life I couldn’t have.
I closed my eyes, weary to my bones, and let myself dream just one more time.