40. Phil #2
Ruthie leaned into me, cheek to my chest. The wetness of her tears soaked through my clothes, dampening my skin. “Momma and Papa.” Ruthie’s statement was so soft I barely heard it. Dillon and Sedrick didn’t have that issue.
Dillon jumped up on his chair, slamming his hands on the table.
Sedrick was calm as if he’d been expecting the words and they were merely a formality. “Tell me, Ruthie. Tell me everything.”
And Ruthie did, or she at least told what she knew.
“Papa was driving. I . . . I don’t know what happened, but the car flipped.
Somehow, I got outside. Momma and Papa, they were still alive and .
. .” Ruthie almost broke down. I rocked her in my arms, whispering words of reassurance.
Fire flared to life within the fireplace, banked low and warm.
“He killed them.” Ruthie didn’t elaborate on how, and Sedrick didn’t push her. “I recognized him when he came into the courtroom with Grandpa Arie.”
Sedrick inhaled deeply, eyes briefly closing. His body vibrated, and I could tell he fought for calm. When his eyes opened again, they were shimmering pools of amber. “That’s why you got so upset?”
Ruthie nodded against my chest. “H-he . . . he said if I told, if I said a word about what he’d done, he’d kill Dillon.”
Dillon collapsed into his chair, strings cut and little more than a masterless puppet. Mouth hanging open, he choked out, “Wh-what? Why?”
“Come here, Dillon,” Sedrick ordered, a hint of alpha power laced within the command.
Dillon came willingly and climbed into Sedrick’s lap when he patted his thigh. Holding Dillon close, Sedrick snuffled Dillon’s neck, rubbing his cheek against his nephew. “I doubt he would have done that, Dillon. You were too important to your grandpa.”
“Because I’m an alpha?” Dillon sounded like the child he was, not the strong alpha he would one day turn into.
“Exactly.”
Dillon glanced Ruthie’s way. “But she’s a dire. Grandpa Arie would want her.”
Sedrick leaned his cheek on Dillon’s head, squeezing his nephew harder. “She wasn’t a dire then. At best, Ruthie had the potential to become an alpha. Now . . . now she’s more.”
“More?” I asked. I’d barely heard of dire wolves. As far as I knew, they were more myth than reality.
“ More ,” Sedrick echoed. “Each one is different, and we don’t know what Ruthie’s form will mean.
Time will tell. It always does.” Sedrick lifted his head, shaking it slightly.
“Dire wolves aren’t born, Phil. They’re created.
Dires are trauma induced. They manifest to right a wrong, to even the scales.
Most say it’s the Moon Goddess’s ultimate weapon—godly punishment manifested into the world of her wayward children.
Edward did that when he killed Will and Kelsie.
When he ordered Ruthie not to talk about what she’d seen. ”
“Oh.” I hugged Ruthie tighter. “Oh, sweetie. That’s why you didn’t say a word, why you kept silent all this time.
” Children were little sponges, soaking up their world in ways we could hardly predict, let alone anticipate.
Ruthie had taken Edward’s words and created a blanket world where she couldn’t just speak about what she’d seen but couldn’t speak at all.
Silence descended, quiet and soul-soothing. Words weren’t needed, or perhaps they were too difficult to find. Eventually, Dillon yawned and softly said, “The house feels better now, Phil. It’s not cold anymore.”
I didn’t think the fire smoldering within the fireplace was what Dillon meant.
“It’ll never feel cold again, Dillon. I promise.” It was an easily made promise.
“You’re staying, right, Phil?” Ruthie looked up, her now blue eyes wide and trusting. “You’re not leaving again?”
“Never,” Sedrick answered, and I nodded in agreement.
“You’re uncle’s right. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”
Ruthie’s grin lit me from within. “I’m glad, Phil.” Wiggling out of my arms, she kneeled on my lap and hugged me, rubbing her cheek against my neck. “We really like you.”
“I really like you too.” It was an understatement. I loved Dillon and Ruthie as if they were my own flesh and blood.
“Good.” Ruthie pulled away and slid off my lap.
Dillon followed suit, slipping from Sedrick’s hold.
Neither said good night. Side by side, they shuffled down the hall.
I could hear little bits and pieces of their conversation, mostly Dillon telling Ruthie how awesome she was, that her dire wolf form was huge and kicked ass.
Sedrick scowled at the last comment but remained silent until they disappeared behind Ruthie’s bedroom door.
I wasn’t sure how much longer they’d room together.
I got the feeling that tonight might be the last time.
“Dillon’s been spending way too much time with Oliver.”
I smiled, but that smile quickly faded. “Do you think that’s what Arie meant, back when he interrupted our lunch in town and said Will and Kelsie found out the hard way?”
Sedrick’s eyes flared molten gold. “Are you asking if Arie gave the order to kill them?”
“Yes.”
Sedrick’s growl was low and full of hate-filled mourning. “I think Edward Gerrard didn’t do a damn thing without his alpha’s say so.”
Fear dug its nasty claws into me again. Swallowing hard, I barely whispered, “Are you going to challenge Arie?” It was within Sedrick’s rights to avenge his brother and sister-in-law.
Sedrick sat there, his quiet contemplation adding to my fear.
I wanted this to be over—needed it to be over.
Thankfully, Sedrick agreed. With a firm shake of his head, Sedrick finally answered, “What happened tonight is retribution enough. I think Will and Kelsie would agree. It’s time to heal.”
Relief smacked into me. With weakened knees, I rose, ready to clear the table. Sedrick had other ideas and captured my wrist, pulling me toward his lap. I hesitated. “What about your wounds? I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Fuck my wounds.” I didn’t think Dillon’s cursing crisis sprang from Oliver alone. “Come here.”
Facing Sedrick, I settled on his lap. My wings beat out a pleasant, contented rhythm, scattering the area in a haze of pink dust. Some of that dust fell on Sedrick’s face, disappearing when it touched his beard. “Why doesn’t my dust bother you?” I’d wondered before but was always too afraid to ask.
Sedrick shrugged, settling his clasped hands on my lower back. “No idea. Sometimes my wolf’s smarter than me. It’s liked you from the start. More than liked. I think it’s always known you were my mate. It just took the human side a little longer to figure that out.”
Peaceful warmth settled deep, seeding itself into every cell. I’d never imagined I could feel this content, never imagined this could be my life.
“I think you must be the most perfect being in the whole world, Phil,” Sedrick repeated the craziness he’d spoken on the car ride home.
I snorted. “I’ve already told you I’m hardly perfect.”
“We’ll just have to agree to disagree, my perfectly imperfect pixie.”