Chapter 38
THIRTY-EIGHT
RAWLING
The professor’s crumpled body covered in dirt was a stark reminder of what I’d done and what I had to do. I’d killed, but I had to do it a second time.
But I was a father, mate, friend, and student. What did I know about ending someone’s life? This wasn’t me.
My wolf, the driving force behind calling in the debt Professor Shaw owed me and my family, was now whispering about how could I expect him to fight Atticus’s wolf, his brother.
I was numb and didn’t have an answer. Maybe I couldn’t solve this and someone else would take over. But I reached for Phelan’s hand, knowing it had to be me.
Atticus was shaking, and huge tremors wracked his body.
He opened his mouth but didn’t follow through and tell the apparition to piss off.
I’d run when confronted by an apparition last semester.
And I’d had my ring off. Had that given me the strength to leave because I was me and not presenting as latent? I’d never know.
Atticus knew what was happening. I witnessed the pleading in his eyes.
He’s asking you to end his life.
But that look vanished and was replaced by loathing.
He grinned, and though I’d been on the other side of his lies, taunting, and tormenting, his sinister smile tugged at my belly.
His nostrils flared, and he revealed his partly shifted fangs so even if I was undecided about our fate, he knew where this was headed.
The apparition wobbled and thinned behind him, becoming indistinct. Atticus staggered as if he’d been punched, and the apparition vanished.
He uttered one word before he took his fur. “Please.”
For a moment I was in awe. I’ve seen his wolf at a distance when he and Phelan shifted but had only had eyes for my mate’s beast. But now as a newly discovered shifter, my wolf, blood brother to Atticus, had to kill him.
My beast was reluctant, begging me to find another way, even though he understood there was only one outcome.
Now I wasn’t the latent Atticus had tormented or the newly discovered twin brother. Nope, I was prey. And he wasn’t a middle-aged professor whose wolf was past his prime, though I had one kill under my belt.
“Please don’t do this,” Jack begged.
My gaze went to Phelan. His distraught expression had me wavering. I loved him and Eira with everything I had. He held my gaze, and just for a second, he poured his love into me as our eyes locked on one another.
He’d almost lost me earlier, and now he may still do so. But he made no attempt to interfere, whereas Jack was blubbering and asking me to rethink my intention.
I took my fur as Atticus’s wolf leaped, and I feigned left but went right. He wasn’t fooled, and we collided. I wasn’t just fighting Atticus but the brutality of the hunter within him.
Our beasts rolled into a pile of gravel. His wolf was leaner and quicker than the one I’d killed earlier. He was able to twist midair, claw my beast, withdraw, before returning and sinking his fangs into my wolf.
Our wolves, both brothers, were evenly matched, but my wolf had already fought this evening. His strength was waning, and this was his brother he was attacking. He wanted to survive and for his brother to heal, and yet to do that, he had to ensure Atticus’s wolf drew his last breath.
Atticus’s beast didn’t let up. He attacked my wolf, clawing his flesh, biting, and tearing. He was like a machine, one that didn’t need fueling or charging. He just kept coming. There was no emotion in him, but emotion was hampering my beast’s ability to fight.
To save him, we have to take him down. It’s the only way, I told him.
I urged my wolf to stand, and he got up, took a breath, and slammed into his opponent, knocking him sideways.
Blood spilled over both beasts, coloring our similar fur in liquid red.
Atticus’s wolf pinned mine down, and I stared into his eyes, not recognizing the wolf or the man.
There was nothing in his gaze, and my beast saw what I did.
If we didn’t win, not only would my wolf and I perish, but Atticus would be lost.
No, I refuse. That cannot happen.
Digging into his reserves, he slammed his opponent away, and the other wolf landed with a thump on his back. Clouds of dust hovered over him as my beast leaned over him and placed a paw on his chest.
Now. Tell him to take his skin. That’s his only chance.
My beast bit down hard on the wolf’s neck as fur gave way to skin and four legs became two. Atticus thrashed in the dust as blood spurted and streamed, telling me his life was ebbing away.
I took my skin, only just, and I wavered between man and beast.
Whatever life remained in my brother was gone. His eyes closed, and his chest was still.
Phelan fell down beside me. “I can help.”
But I ignored him. I started this and had to finish it. It had to be me.
Much as I had loathed Atticus in the past and still harbored dislike for him, none of this was his fault.
We were linked by blood, but it was our relationship since our birth which marked who we were to one another.
This snarky, rude, aristocratic wannabe asswipe was a product of his upbringing, and he could learn to be a better person and be someone else who was happy and contributed to society.
“We were born just shy of a minute apart. You will not die. I won’t let you. I refuse to have your death on my conscience.” It would be just like Atticus to give me a final fuck-you and die.
I slammed my fist on his cold dead heart as Jack screamed, “Breathe, Atticus.”
With each smash of my fist, his body arched before slumping back.
You have to do more, say more, my wolf urged me. Tell him what is in your heart.
Tears clouded my vision. All that existed was the thump of my fist, the cracking of his ribs, Jack yelling, and Phelan mumbled, “Let me take over, Rawling,” while my wolf was telling me not to give up
My fist was numb and my gnarled fingers appeared to have arthritis.
Let your emotions flow through your fingers.
Stop telling me what to do!
I bent over Atticus’s lifeless body because I had no more strength. I’d done my best, and I’d failed him, my wolf, and myself.
“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.” I closed my eyes, not wanting the tears to fall.
His arrogance and contempt were foisted on him by circumstance. I’d been saved by people who gave their life for me. But no one had given my brother that love or devotion that everyone deserved.
“You can do this, Rawling.” Phelan had a hand on my bare back. “You and only you. I know you can.”
Grief was crawling over me, taking away my desire to fight on. But I summoned the fury I’d kept inside me for not knowing who I was and believing I didn’t fit in.
I raised my fist and hit him again. “You don’t get to leave and make me the bad guy. I refuse.”
Once more I smashed my fist on his chest. Wait, what was that? Did I shove him or was that a shudder? There was a sort of cough and a tiny breath, and his chest moved up and down, just barely.
Jack fell beside Atticus and placed her hand on his chest while Phelan whispered between sobs, “You did it.”
As we sat on the ground and people swarmed toward us, I wondered if I’d changed destiny. Were Atticus and I supposed to end up killing one another and I’d changed our path?
Atticus
I was in the infirmary, wrapped in a blanket, and Mrs. Ardilla gave me something sweet and warm to drink. Jack was beside me, being kind, brushing hair off my brow and dabbing blood from my cheeks.
I wasn’t entirely sure how or why I was here, but I remembered waking up on the ground, naked, near the sports center. Professors and students had surrounded us, and there was shouting and arguing.
Members of the shifter council appeared, annoyed they’d been called away from dinner. They were saying Rawling had to be sequestered and hauled before the council in the morning. Someone said I had to be taken away too.
There was blood, and they carried a body into a van as Mrs. Ardilla was given responsibility for keeping us away from the rest of the students.
“How are you feeling?” Phelan asked. He was sitting in an armchair cradling Rawling. Why did he have to be fussed over? Someone had shoved me in the dirt and bloodied my nose. Despite my wolf’s healing abilities, I ached all over.
“Who did this to me?” I glared at everyone in the room, one by one.
Rawling closed his eyes and Phelan held him close while Jack took up the story. When she was finished, Rawling told me not to ask him a million questions because he didn’t have the answers.
“Great. So I’m stuck here with you lot for the night.”
I was hiding behind my usual snarky dialogue, but it didn’t feel as right as it used to, like I was wearing someone else’s clothes. Inside I was trying and failing to come to terms with what Rawling had done. Our beasts had fought to the death, knowing they were about to kill their brother.
And me, a hunter? And Rawling said he’d been a hunter too, they suspected. What? Was that part of me nestled so deep inside since I was born or did it somehow transfer when I gave Rawling my blood? I didn’t care. It was gone, and I was me. But who was this new me?
They couldn’t expect me to be nice and grateful and all those things. That wasn’t who I was, but maybe, considering what Rawling had done, maybe there was a sliver of something positive. My worldview didn’t have to be me against everyone else as it had been in the past.
“I suppose I have to thank you.” I jerked my head at Rawling.
“Atticus, come on.” Phelan gave me a look, one I hadn’t seen in a while, since we were friends. “You can do better than that.”
I went to tell him to shut it but clamped my mouth shut. Instead, I said, “Thank you, Rawling. I couldn’t have done what you did to save me. I wish I was more like you. You’re the man I should have been.”
Rawling, my brother, opened his eyes. “You can choose, Atticus. You have free will, especially now.”