Chapter 97

“Stay out of this, Wyatt,” I snap.

“It’s not my fault if you can’t handle the truth. You are a slut, plain and simple. Everyone knows you are attempting to seduce the brothers one by one.”

“That’s not true.” Any relations I have had with the brothers have been mutually consensual. No one is seducing anyone. In fact, if anyone is being seduced, it is me. Those Gods damned brothers are all so hot and domineering and –

Not helping, Chloe.

“I’m not a slut,” I say firmly.

Wyatt, ever the charmer, doesn’t listen to me. “If you are trying to trap them, it won’t work like it did with your mom and my dad. They’ll use you but they’ll never actually want to keep you.”

At one point in my life, not all that long ago, I thought that Wyatt and I might be the kind of stepsiblings that are thick as thieves. Friends till the end. Slowly, more and more, I’ve been realizing any kindness Wyatt ever showed me in the past was false

He only wanted me to lower my guard so he could cut into me later.

I hate how much his plan worked. I didn’t want to hurt like I did, mourning a brother-like relationship that was never genuine from his side. It was still real to me, though. And I still hurt from it.

A real brother, in this situation, would not accuse the sister of being a slut. Instead, they would be going after the men, demanding to know their intentions. At least, that’s how it has always seems in the books I read and the TV shows I watch.

“You are nobody, Chloe,” Wyatt says. His hate is so clear and visceral, I wonder how I ever missed it before. It’s in his tone and his words, and the way he looks at me. His whole body tenses up, like hatred is oozing out of his pores.

I have no idea why he hates me. No really. I never did anything to him other than try to be his friend, his sister. Maybe that is enough of an offense.

“You are so far beneath them, I’m surprised they can see you at all,” Wyatt says. “Compared to them, you are nothing. No, you are less than nothing.”

I shouldn’t be, but I’m startled by the vitriol of his words. I should be used to it, but I’m not.

I’m speechless, processing, not coming up with a reply.

I won’t cry for him. I won’t beg. I won’t apologize.

But I will stare and wonder how so much hate can live in one person without driving them insane. What kind of life does he live, to carry that around?

Then I pity him. Someone who only wants destruction doesn’t know how to build.

“You are an insignificant speck,” Wyatt continues. “If I could, I would –”

He cuts himself off at the same moment Neil’s door abruptly opens.

Neil himself is standing there, in a black button-up shirt and gray slacks. His gaze is emotionless, cold almost, as he looks from me to Wyatt.

My heart skips a beat, seeing him. Physically, he looks okay. He’s standing tall. His hair is pulled back neatly. I exhale deeper than I have in hours, relieved to finally see him in the flesh and know he’s okay.

Well, okay enough.

Wyatt swallows thickly. He doesn’t move right away, just lowers his gaze, showing his submission to the clear Alpha now in the hallway.

So easy to pick on me, until a real wolf walks in the room, huh?

Neil continues to stare down Wyatt, but he doesn’t say anything. Wyatt starts to shuffle nervously. I can’t blame him in this instance, Neil isn’t making his intentions known. Is he displeased? Is he approving? Neither emotion shows on his face.

“Come inside, Chloe,” Neil says. He’s not looking at me. It isn’t until he says my name that I realize he’s addressing me at all.

I jump to follow the order, eager to get away from Wyatt. This feels something like a rescue, and I’m not about to look that gift horse in the mouth.

I duck into Neil’s room and wait patiently. I listen closely, but neither Neil nor Wyatt seem to say anything to each other. After a moment, Neil comes into the room and closes the door behind him.

“Stay until you hear him leave,” Neil says. He walks past me and goes to his dresser. From the drawers, he withdraws a pair of sweatpants and a cotton shirt. That’s not his usual style.

I feel like I should say something, so I try, “Thank you for the save.”

Neil doesn’t turn around. “He was being an asshole.”

That’s confirmation enough that Neil just saved me.

I take a step toward him. “Neil –”

“Stay back, Chloe.” His voice is colder than I expect. It’s enough to freeze me.

But not cold enough to stop my worry. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll live.”

“That’s not what I asked.” I lick my lips, to give myself a moment to think. “What happened? I heard you were summoned.”

“It’s none of your concern.” His coldness isn’t as chilling now that I’m used to it.

“That’s not what I hear. Everyone’s been telling me it’s my fault.”

Neil glances back at me. “Everyone who?”

My lips are sealed. I’m no snitch. Though it shouldn’t take him long to piece it together on his own. I see the moment the recognition flickers over his features. He sighs.

“My brothers need to keep their noses in their own affairs.”

“They are worried about you.” When he doesn’t reply, I push, “Do they have reason to be? Because, from my experience, the Hayes’s don’t worry about all that much. If something is so bad that even Beau is concerned, then I have questions.”

Neil stands up straight. He faces me. “I learned a lesson.”

“What kind of lesson?”

“About what matters and what doesn’t. About my place in the family. About my obligation to my father.”

“Those lessons sound like bullshit to me.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t understand.”

I take another step toward him. “Then help me understand.”

“What’s the point? Why does any of this matter to you?”

I can’t answer that as easily as I want to. It doesn’t, I want to say. But damn it, I do care about the brothers at least a little bit. And if their jerk of a father is being a dick to them, I’m going to get fired up about it whether I want to or not.

“It just does, okay? Do I need a reason?” I say. I know it’s weak response. He has every right to laugh me out of his room, but I don’t think he will.

I think maybe Neil just wants someone to listen, to care about him, individually, even if it’s only for a minute and can’t last longer.

Neil sighs. “I have a weakness. One that needs to be beat out of me.”

I want to know what the weakness is. I suspect it is me.

But something else catches my thoughts before I can ask about that.

I ask, “’Beat?’”

Neil lifts his hands to the buttons of his shirt and one by one slowly undoes them. Then he shrugs off the shirt and it drops down to the ground.

His naked torso is covered in bruises and cuts, some more healed than others. It looks like he had endured several beatings over a long period.

Was this where he’d been all day?

Did his father do this?