I paused, feeling like an ass. O’Shea was right there beside me. I put a hand on his head. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad. I pushed the door open and we headed toward the library, where I thought I could be alone for a minute or two. I just needed to deal with what had happened. Deal with it, and then I could move on.

Right.

Of course, I’d forgotten a few minor details.

Like the fact that Doran was here. O’Shea and I stepped into the library to see the Shaman standing with his back to the open window, the red curtains swirling out and around him. Which, in and of itself, wouldn’t have been too bad except that Faris choose that moment to show up, cutting through the Veil as we walked in.

He saw Doran and, without a word, lunged toward him.

Pamela and Alex ran in, no doubt hearing all the excitement, and Alex promptly threw up on the rug. She lifted her hands to prep a spell and the two bloodsuckers careened around the room, sending books and furniture flying.

Yeah, all in the space of about three minutes.

I couldn’t do this anymore. I turned my back on them, left the room. If they wanted to kill each other, so be it.

Doran screamed for me. “Rylee, he’s going to kill me!”

I stood outside the door just feeling … done. Then I looked down at O’Shea, who was still at my side. Doran was the one person who might be able to help me bring O’Shea, the man, back. I steeled myself one last time, then turned and headed back into the library to see Faris holding Doran against the wall.

“Faris. I need Doran.”

“He is a pet of hers.”

“He’s not, he took blood from me. Before I left.” Gods, could nothing be simple anymore. “Play nice boys or I’ll kill you both.”

The Daywalker and the vampire stared at me, like they weren’t sure I was being serious. Alex was cringing in the corner, making sure not to look at the puddle of vomit he’d left on the floor. Pamela stood there, her eyes on me. Waiting for a signal.

“Doran, come take a look at O’Shea. And you better f**king well tell me you can bring him back or maybe I’ll let Faris do what he wants with you.”

Faris let Doran down and the Daywalker made his way over to me, his green eyes shadowed. “You don’t seem yourself.”

“Just look at O’Shea.” I pointed at the wolf at my side, in case he hadn’t noticed the massive black wolf with the silvery gold eyes.

Doran ran a hand over the area above O’Shea’s head, but never touched him. “He’s becoming a Guardian.” His eyes flicked up to mine. “But you knew that, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

A few minutes of this air touching and I was about ready to shake the Daywalker until his fangs fell out.

“I’m not sure. I think maybe, but I can’t tell. He has to want to come back, I think,” Doran said, still staring at O’Shea.

“What do you mean he has to want to?”

“There are two parts of him, and the man in him is buried deep. If he doesn’t want to come back badly enough, the wolf will be all that’s left.”

Every muscle in my chest tightened with a fear that I’d been holding at bay all this time. “How long?”

Doran shrugged. “A week at most. Maybe less.”

I closed my eyes, feeling the loss for what it was. I’d had O’Shea with me for days now. Why hadn’t he wanted to come back when he was right with me?

Maybe he didn’t want to come back to me. Maybe he was happier as a wolf.

Faris snorted. “He can’t be brought back. He’s been too long in wolf form. When the collar came off it was a matter of seconds before he glazed over. The backlash is too much for him.”

I went very still. “You were there, when the collar was taken off?”

O’Shea growled and inched toward Faris.

“Wait.” I held up my hand. “Are you telling me you took off the collar, knowing what would happen?”

Faris smiled at me, and for a second, I thought maybe I’d been wrong. That had been Milly’s doing, that she had taken the collar off.

“Yes, I took it off him. You are not for the wolf, Rylee. You will belong to me. I must bind you to me if I am to take the throne from Berget. There is no other way and I won’t have a wolf—”

“Don’t you f**king well use her name in front of me!”

Gods help me, Faris, how could I have ever trusted him? Even for a second? He’d lied to me time and time again. He wasn’t in this for anyone but himself. That much was apparent.

“Get the f**k out of here, vampire. The next time I see you, I will kill you.”

Faris was on me in a flash, our bodies slamming into the far wall with a thud that knocked books from the shelves. I tipped my head sideways, an invitation for him that he couldn’t resist. It would blind him to what I was going to do to him.

His fangs drove into my neck, his desire for my blood making him stupid. I held out my hand. Doran tossed me a silver letter opener from the side table. I caught it and drove it deep into Faris’ neck.

He yanked back from me, his teeth tearing a ragged wound across my neck. I jerked the silver letter opener out and jammed it in again. Faris stumbled back from me and O’Shea placed himself between us.

“Do we understand each other?” I asked, my voice even and calm.

He snarled at me, coughed on a mouthful of blood. “You don’t understand, and I’m bloody well done trying to explain. I won’t be there to pull your ass out of the fire again, Tracker.”

“Fuck you too.” I tossed the letter opener back to Doran, who wiped it off on his pants and set if back on the side table.

Faris turned, stepped sideways and jumped the Veil. I watched him closely, could almost see how he did it this time. If only I could pull that trick … not that it would get us all home.

Doran approached me, lifting his hand to my neck. “You need to get this stitched. It’s going to be quite a scar when it heals, even with my stitches.”

Jack stepped into the room, surprising me. He tottered toward us and I wondered if how he’d been looking in the dungeons had been an act. He’d certainly perked back up quickly.

“I’ll get the thread and needle, you stay here.” The old Tracker said as he left the room before he’d ever really come in.

Doran cleared his throat. “Why did you let him bite you? You know it only deepens the chance he will be able to bind you to him.”

“Because he is no different than anyone else. Everyone wants something from me, and with Faris, it’s my blood. It makes him weak.” I lifted my eyes to Doran’s, let him see a side of me I didn’t share easily. I was so done. The shattering truths that had been exposed to me had knocked the stuffing out of me more than any knock-down, drag-out fight could have.

Jack was right, I’d not really given much credence to what he’d said before I’d left to find O’Shea. Everyone wanted something from me, and I was f**king tired of it.

So f**king tired.

Jack came back with the needle and thread, and Doran stitched me up. But again the emptiness swallowed me up and their voices seemed far away, distant and out of focus.

I interacted with them on the surface. I could see they were worried, that they all knew something was wrong with me. But I couldn’t explain it and didn’t want to try.

Days passed and the darkness that lay heavy on me dug in deeper and deeper. I existed, I ate, and I didn’t sleep. I spoke with the others, but something was deeply wrong, like when the Hoarfrost demon’s poison had stolen my ability to function. This was the same, only worse, because I knew there was nothing I could do to fix it. The darkness and hurt, grief and pain were a part of me.

Pamela tried to get me to help work with her, Alex tried to get me to play tag, and Eve offered to fly me along the coast.

Only O’Shea didn’t ask anything of me. His eyes seemed to have stopped shifting and were a pale gold, so pale that in certain lights they did look silver.

Deanna came over, tried to help O’Shea, but like Doran, there was nothing she could do.

Four days had passed, four days of waiting and not knowing what to do next. Waiting for Doran to say all of O’Shea was gone.

I lay on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. Alex lay on the floor beside me, his head resting on the edge of the bed. His eyes were sad and every once in a while, he’d let out a whimper, reach out and touch me with the tip of his claw.

O’Shea lay beside me on the bed, his nose buried in the crook of my neck. I wanted things I couldn’t have, comfort that apparently I wasn’t allowed.

I threw my arm over my eyes, hating the way my eyes burned with unshed tears. Hated the weakness in me.

Someone knocked on the door, and then slowly opened it.

“Rylee, I know I told you to let her go. But maybe I was wrong. You need someone who knows you better than you know yourself right now … and I don’t f**king well know you that well. Track her, maybe she can help you where none of us can.” The door clicked shut, and Jack left me alone with my boys.

My heart clenched and the tears I’d been holding back threatened to break the damn. I blew out a sharp breath, sniffed back the tears, and Tracked Giselle. I couldn’t feel her body—there, way far to the west at home in North Dakota—but I knew it was there.

But that wasn’t what I wanted. I needed the woman who I would always think of not only as my mentor, but as the mother I’d needed, the woman who trained me, and taught me to stand for myself. She knew me, knew my heart, knew my strengths and my weaknesses. I wasn’t sure there was anyone who knew me better. I reached for her, Tracking her spirit, or at least trying to. Maybe she was gone, truly gone, and I couldn’t reach her. Or maybe like O’Shea, she just didn’t want to be with me.

That was it. I couldn’t hold it back anymore. The tears that I’d held at bay for so long, I couldn’t stop them. Curling onto my side, away from O’Shea, I sobbed into my pillow. One person could only be asked to take so much pain and I was done.