Chapter 12 A Very Convenient Accident #3
Of course.
His gaze moved from Ian’s face to mine, then to the monitor, then to the chair, the space between us, Ian’s hands, my bandaged foot.
“You stood,” he said.
“Briefly. Heroically. There may be a plaque.”
He ignored that and looked at Ian. “Why is Sava in the hall?”
“Because she has survival instincts?” I guessed.
Ronan’s eyes came to me.
Ian said, “Cassie felt a memory.”
Ronan’s expression didn’t change, but every line of him tensed. “Describe it.”
I laughed once in disbelief. “Absolutely not.”
Ronan looked at me. “If the bond is transmitting memory while you are awake, I need to understand it.”
“And there he is, the man who makes kidnapping sound like project management.”
His stare didn’t move and I stared back.
Ian stepped slightly between us and the tension changed. My pulse jumped, and the mark warmed, reacting to both men like a deeply inconvenient referee.
“Don’t,” I said.
Both brothers looked at me. I gripped the arms of the chair and forced myself straighter, even though my body complained and the bite answered with a low black ache.
“I am tired. I hurt. I have apparently started receiving unauthorized Ian content directly under my ribs. I do not have the strength for the two of you to turn every conversation into a dominance seminar.”
Sava slipped back in behind Ronan, took one look at the room, and stopped.
“Did I miss the seminar?” she asked.
“No,” I said. “Apparently it’s ongoing.”
Ronan’s jaw tightened and Ian looked down.
Sava came to me and checked the monitor. “She needs back in bed.”
“I want my phone first,” I said.
Ronan’s answer came immediately. “No.”
“Then I want to know why a dog could get through your apparently secure private grounds.”
Everyone went still.
Good.
Finally.
A practical question no one could call emotional instability.
I looked at Ronan. “You said humans cannot know about you. You own this resort. You run ceremonies behind hedges and gates and signs and security. So how did a six-pound dog with floral collar energy get from my sister’s chair to your secret wolf lawn?”
Sava looked at Ronan, Ian did too, but Ronan’s expression didn’t change. Something behind it did though.
At last, I thought.
“Henry slipped his leash,” Ronan said.
“No. Henry dragged his leash. I saw it behind him. It was still attached when I found him. It got wrapped around one of your ritual posts after he went through the hedge.”
Ronan’s gaze stayed on me. “The gate was open?”
“Open enough for a dog. Open enough for me.”
“Which gate?”
“The one with the authorized staff sign, because apparently I committed trespassing with excellent reading comprehension.”
Ronan looked toward the door. “Sava, get her into bed.”
“I am not done,” I said.
“No,” Ronan said. “But you are pale enough to fall out of that chair, and I need answers you cannot give me unconscious.”
That was infuriatingly sensible.
Sava helped me stand. Ian moved close enough to offer his arm, but waited for me to take it.
I did, because I wanted to make it to the bed more than I wanted to prove a point with carpet burns.
When I reached the bed, Ian helped lower me onto the mattress and released me the instant my weight was supported.
His restraint came so quickly now that it felt practiced around my rules.
My rules. A thin, unwanted warmth opened in my chest.
Sava tucked the blanket around my legs. “Do not smile like that.”
“I’m not smiling.”
“You were thinking about smiling. It was medically reckless.”
I closed my eyes. “I’m going to fire my doctor.”
“You cannot. You are in werewolf prison.”
I opened my eyes and Sava looked at me. For the first time, I saw humor in her face. Small, dry and real.
Then Ronan ruined another almost-human moment by opening the door and speaking to the guard outside.
“Bring Lucien. Quietly.”
Ian went still beside the bed.
I looked at Ronan. “You didn’t know about the gate.”
“No.”
“Luxury resort loses control of one gate and a Maltese starts an international incident. That feels embarrassing.”
Ronan’s gaze cut to me.
“Pack incident,” he said.
I shrugged my good shoulder. “Still embarrassing.”
Ronan looked at Ian. “Stay with her.”
Ian’s eyes remained on his brother. “Where are you going?”
“To find out who opened a gate that should have been locked.”
The door closed behind him. Even Sava looked less amused now. Ian stood beside my bed, his attention still on the door, and for the first time since I had woken in this room, his anger was not centered on me, around me, or because of me.
It had a direction.
A question.
Someone had opened the way.
I looked at Ian. He already knew what I was going to ask.
“If someone let the dog through,” I said, “then I wasn’t the accident everyone keeps calling me.”
His face was hard.
“No,” he said.
The mark pulsed under my skin. This time, it felt less like a wound and more like a warning.
Ian looked down at me, and the space between us filled with the same thought.
Someone had wanted something in that circle.
And somehow, I had ended up in the middle of it.