Chapter Fourteen

My shot was true.

Thomas went down, struck backward with the blow of my arrow, but I was the one who cried out in pain. I held to my chest as my lungs seized. I didn’t dare open my eyes to look at him, or Archer.

“The great thing about this game,” Faust said, a victorious smile in his tone, “is that there’s really no need for you to choose who gets released. It’s been done for you by default.”

I forced a swallow as I backed away from him, away from what I’d done.

“Oh.” Faust clapped his hands. “The Scratching Post is hiring whores, if you happen to survive out here all alone.”

"Good luck with that," one of his men muttered as he passed me.

Luck would have nothing to do with my survival, only my cold, determined will. He would learn that soon enough.

Faust took Ronin from the man's arms and angled her toward Archer as he strode toward him. "You'll release Archer to me. Time to make him pay for helping to burn down Old Man's Den."

Through Ronin, our eyes locked, and I almost looked away because I'd taken even more from him, and I wasn't even finished. Instead of devastating pain or blame written all over his face, he smiled. Warm and pure, it was such a gorgeous thing in this frozen hellscape. He aimed it at me with no judgement, no reserve, and I took it as far into my memory as I could, so I'd never forget it.

"I love you," I choked out.

"I love you too." Then he nodded, his smile growing impossibly bigger, and it was as though he were telling me it would all be okay. Me, not himself. "So much."

How could he love me after what I'd done though? A sob cracked from my throat as I sank to my knees. My chest squeezed painfully as guilt and torment shoved me into the frozen earth. If my wolves died, I would die too.

"Start walking, lover boy." Faust pushed him, and he stumbled backward.

Archer tore his gaze from mine and looked at Ronin, and as he did, his smile faded. Then he looked to Sasha who squirmed and yelped on the ground, then at his alpha, lying perfectly still in the snow.

As he turned away from me, tears filled his eyes, and then he faced the other direction with Faust, his men, and his wolves. He didn't look back at me, and a part of me was glad he didn't. I wanted to remember that smile. I wanted that to be my last memory of him in case I never saw him again. The blowing snow threw a white veil over their backs and swallowed them up.

As soon as they were out of sight, as soon as it appeared we were out of danger, I raced toward Sasha. Sobs wracked my shoulders as I carefully picked her up.

"My little girl, I'm so, so sorry." I held her close to my chest so she could share my heat, what little of it I had, and gently probed her for any broken bones or gashes. "Please forgive me. Please forgive me. Please forgive me."

She shuddered and yelped when I touched her back leg, and I jerked my hand back.

“Okay.” I kissed her between the ears and breathed in her sweet, calming scent. “I’ll fix you up.”

Out of the corner of her eye, movement flashed. I whirled. My pulse stampeded as I brought my bow over my head to crush it down on another enemy.

But it was Thomas sitting up and clutching the arrow in his chest. "I'm not dead."

I loosened half a breath, unable to move. “No.”

He turned his head toward me and plucked the arrow out, a small twig in his huge hands. "How am I not dead?"

"Be-because I shot you right below the heart." I swallowed. "I tried to…anyway."

"The poison."

"No." I shook my head to help rattle more words free. "It wasn't. It was moonshine. Just moonshine with purple flowers that looked like wolfsbane. It was in a big jar, a distraction for the very small jar of poison in my pocket. It’s still in my pocket. A great magician I know once told a little girl named Gibby to distract her audience with a huuuge snap of her fingers while her other hand is doing something else.”

“Archer,” he sighed. “The huge distraction was the big jar that wasn’t poison.”

I nodded. Archer had just gone, and already, I missed him like crazy. My tears plinked down into Sasha's fur, and I buried my next few sobs between her ears.

Thomas growled as he tried to push to his feet, but both his pant legs were soaked through with blood. "We'll get them back."

"Yes." I knelt and pulled his arm around me to help.

With great effort, he finally stood. In my other arm, Sasha didn’t try to squirm away from him in fright. She just stared and whimpered. Thomas did his damndest not to stare back.

“But we’re stuck in the middle of winter.” He lifted his gaze to me, hard and determined, and closer than it had ever been before. The powerful connection we’d shared when we first met at the church flared again—one of loss and shared experiences. "I can barely walk, but I can damn well heal."

"I can't see without my wolves, but I can damn well win."

Something flickered behind his normally suspicious eyes. "I'm starting to believe you."

I shifted my bow and Sasha in my left arm and held him tighter with my right. "Good."