Chapter 4 Mari’s POV

"Don't stare," Rook said under his breath. "It makes their eyes shine brighter."

"Make them stop glowing, then,” I retorted.

"Can't."

"That's not an answer!"

"It's the only one I've got tonight."

Harlan came across the yard with his hands open, like a man approaching a spooked horse. The eyes around us were back to normal now, just brown, green, blue, gray, or black. I told myself it had been the floodlights. It had to be the floodlights. A girl who spent her whole day around blood and sickness had to learn to explain things away.

"Miss Reyes," Harlan said. "I told you to go home."

"Someone broke into my apartment with a gun. Your guy here took care of it, but I don't think my building is going to give me the deposit back."

A kid in the crowd snorted. He was skinny, maybe twenty, with a leather vest that looked a size too big and no patches on it. He clapped a hand over his mouth. "Sorry. That was funny."

"Kip," said the giant from the hospital, without even turning his head, and the kid shut his mouth up immediately.

"Inside," Harlan said. "All of you."

The Lodge was an old hunting cabin that somebody had made about ten times bigger. It smelled of woodsmoke, motor oil, and fried onions. There were antlers on the walls, a bar along one side, and a pool table with a cracked leg. A small gray-haired woman stood behind the bar with a dish towel over her shoulder, looking at me with an air of familiarity.

"This is Birdie," Rook said. "The president's wife. She's going to feed you."

"I'm not hungry."

"You will be."

"Church," Harlan called, and everyone with a patch on his vest filed toward a heavy door at the back of the room.

Wade glanced at me as he went by and winked. I wanted to throw something at him.

The door closed. Birdie set a bowl of soup in front of me, but I didn't touch it. I just sat there, listening to sounds coming from the other side of the walls. They were thick walls, but not thick enough. I could hear raised voices, and one of them was Wade's.

"...too many loose ends. She's got the slug. She's seen him heal. She's seen everything. You know the rule, Harlan. She comes in or she doesn't go out."

"Watch your mouth,” Rook said.

"I'm saying what everyone's thinking. Bury her out past the creek and be done."

My spoon clattered into the bowl. Birdie put a warm hand over mine.

"Let them yell, honey. That's what men do when they're scared."

"They want to kill me."

"Wade wants a lot of things,” she said flatly, like she was reading a weather report. "He isn't going to get this one."

Then I heard Rook’s voice, and the whole room went quiet to listen. "She’s going nowhere. She stays here, under lockdown, under my watch. If anyone touches her, they'll answer to me."

"You'd choose a nurse over your own club?" Wade said.

Then another voice called for everyone to vote on it.

The vote must have gone Rook's way, because the door opened a few minutes later and Harlan came out first, looking ten years older.

"You'll stay here until the trouble's over,” he told me. “It's for your own good."

"For my good, or yours?"

"Both."

I should have argued. I opened my mouth to do it. And then something hit the floor behind us with a thud.

Rook was down on one knee in the doorway. He had a hand pressed to his side as blood soaked through his hoodie again, thick and almost black.

"Rook!" I was out of my chair before I knew it. "Oh my God, what’s happening?"

"Nothing." He grinned, and it looked awful. "Just walked around. Rode a bike. Fought two guys. Normal night."

"Where are the supplies? Do you have a kit? Anything?"

“Let’s move to the back room. Bear!" Birdie yelled.

The giant had him under one arm already. He hauled him through a swinging door into a small clean room with a steel table and a wall of cabinets. It looked like a vet's office. A real one, with real equipment. The Iron Fang had apparently been treating its own for years.

"Someone's been doing this by themselves," I said, quickly pulling on gloves.

"Old Doc retired," Bear rumbled. "Moved to Florida, then died."

"Great. Very comforting."

I cut away Rook's shirt. The wound was open again, and the skin around it looked so gray and ugly. The same black veins were creeping out from it.

"The doctor at the hospital got the bullet out," I said. "Why does it still look like this?"

"Part of the bullet broke apart." Rook's breath was ragged. "There's still little pieces left. Silver ones."

"Why would it matter if it's silver?"

He looked at me with half-closed eyes. "Do it, Mari. Please."

"Okay. Hold still. This is going to hurt."

"I know."

I worked fast. Bear held his shoulders, and I went in with the forceps and a penlight in my teeth. The first fragment came out with a wet little click, and Rook roared. It wasn’t a scream, but a deep roar that sounded like it hadn’t come from a human.

The lights flickered. Birdie stood in the doorway with her hands clasped, murmuring something under her breath.

"Keep going," Bear said quietly. "He can take it."

The second fragment was deeper. I felt it scrape against bone. Rook roared again, arching off the table, the steel groaning under him. I looked at his hand where it gripped the edge. His fingers were changing.

They were getting longer and thicker, and the nails were turning dark and sharp. They dug into the table like it was paper. His knuckles popped and cracked. The skin on his forearm rippled, a patch of thick black hair rising from it.

I made a small sound deep in my throat.

"Don't stop," Bear said. His voice was calm. "Keep going no matter what you see. If you stop now, he’ll die."

My eyes were burning. Tears ran down my face and dripped off my chin, and my hands were shaking so hard that I could barely hold the forceps. But I kept going. I don't know where I found the strength.

I leaned across his chest, while his face twisted, his teeth grew, and gold light shone from his eyes.

The third piece came out. Then the fourth.

I dropped it into the dish. Four tiny black fragments, clinking like dice.

The entire room went silent. Rook lay there heaving, his hands slowly shrinking back to their normal size and shape. His eyes were still gold, and they were fixed right on me.

Then those fingers closed around my wrist, his touch careful and gentle, and he said in a deep voice full of shame, "Now you know why we can't let you leave."