help?”
“No.” Tears stung her eyes and nose. “I’m sorry.”
“Is there an antidote?”
She stared stupidly for a moment as the question sank past her shock and fear. He should be ripping her apart for what she’d done, not calmly asking her questions. The loup were emotional beasts, according to her father, but Rook was being so logical—
“Brynn!” The sharp snap of his voice jerked her back. “Is there an antidote?”
“Antidote?” Knight’s voice surprised her into pivoting toward the office door. He stood just inside, paused in mid-step, as though Rook’s question had stopped him short. “What the hell’s going on?”
Brynn shrank back, moving as far from both brothers as she could get—which wasn’t very far. All hope of getting out of this fled with Knight’s arrival. Would her father ever know how she died?
Foolish girl, coming here alone .
Rook ignored Knight, and his anger seemed to fill the room. “Is there one?” Rook snapped.
“Yes,” Brynn said, and the word spurred her mind back into proper working order. He didn’t have to die. She could save him, despite being responsible for his being poisoned at all. “Yes, in my car. I can get it.”
“You’re not leaving this room.” Cold fingers crept down her spine at the ice in his voice. “Tell Knight where it is and what it looks like.”
“Rook?” Knight said.
“Tell him!”
Brynn jumped, her heart hammering against her ribs. Knight’s gaze shifted between them, as frustrated as it was suspicious. “It’s a white Dodge Neon, third row. There’s a black case in the glove compartment that looks like a fountain pen holder.”
Despite his confusion over the conversation, Knight simply nodded. “Keys?”
She dug them out of her pocket with her left hand and tossed them. Knight caught the two keys and simple ring with one hand, and then he was gone, boots pounding down the stairs. Brynn wiped her face with the back of her hand, surprised to find a few stray tears. She sagged against the wall where she’d cornered herself, unsure if her knees would buckle or not.
“Was this your original plan?” Rook asked after a moment of silence.
The sheer calm of his voice made her look up, right at him. He stood near the desk, every muscle rigid, his posture defensive. Only his face was passive, blank except for the rage sparking in his eyes. Rage that punched Brynn right in the gut, because she had put it there.
“I believed my vision, Rook. I thought saving my father might redeem me in his eyes. He accused me of fabricating his death in order to win back his favor. I thought that finding some manner of proof that I was right would change the fact that I’m a failure in the eyes of the Congress.”
“The Congress is big on murder?”
“No, they aren’t.” She pushed back another press of tears.
That muscle under his eye twitched again. “You didn’t come here to talk. You came to murder me.”
“No!” She put all of her waning strength into the denial. “I came to solve the murder in my vision before it could occur. The ring was meant for my protection. I didn’t know how you’d react when I told you what I saw.”
“You thought what? I’d try to kill you for asking questions?”
“I didn’t know. All I know of the loup is what my father has told me.”
“Which is that we’re all cold-blooded killers who aren’t to be trusted?”
“Yes.”
“Typical.”
“I never intended to use the ring unless I felt my life was in danger. I hope you can believe that, Rook.”
“Does it really matter what I believe about you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She had no answer. She didn’t know herself why she wanted his forgiveness so desperately. She didn’t understand why his simmering anger upset her so much, or why she’d felt his earlier touch in every corner of her body. Yes, her survival instincts were in high gear, and she knew better than to antagonize an already emotional loup garou. However, this
“No.” Tears stung her eyes and nose. “I’m sorry.”
“Is there an antidote?”
She stared stupidly for a moment as the question sank past her shock and fear. He should be ripping her apart for what she’d done, not calmly asking her questions. The loup were emotional beasts, according to her father, but Rook was being so logical—
“Brynn!” The sharp snap of his voice jerked her back. “Is there an antidote?”
“Antidote?” Knight’s voice surprised her into pivoting toward the office door. He stood just inside, paused in mid-step, as though Rook’s question had stopped him short. “What the hell’s going on?”
Brynn shrank back, moving as far from both brothers as she could get—which wasn’t very far. All hope of getting out of this fled with Knight’s arrival. Would her father ever know how she died?
Foolish girl, coming here alone .
Rook ignored Knight, and his anger seemed to fill the room. “Is there one?” Rook snapped.
“Yes,” Brynn said, and the word spurred her mind back into proper working order. He didn’t have to die. She could save him, despite being responsible for his being poisoned at all. “Yes, in my car. I can get it.”
“You’re not leaving this room.” Cold fingers crept down her spine at the ice in his voice. “Tell Knight where it is and what it looks like.”
“Rook?” Knight said.
“Tell him!”
Brynn jumped, her heart hammering against her ribs. Knight’s gaze shifted between them, as frustrated as it was suspicious. “It’s a white Dodge Neon, third row. There’s a black case in the glove compartment that looks like a fountain pen holder.”
Despite his confusion over the conversation, Knight simply nodded. “Keys?”
She dug them out of her pocket with her left hand and tossed them. Knight caught the two keys and simple ring with one hand, and then he was gone, boots pounding down the stairs. Brynn wiped her face with the back of her hand, surprised to find a few stray tears. She sagged against the wall where she’d cornered herself, unsure if her knees would buckle or not.
“Was this your original plan?” Rook asked after a moment of silence.
The sheer calm of his voice made her look up, right at him. He stood near the desk, every muscle rigid, his posture defensive. Only his face was passive, blank except for the rage sparking in his eyes. Rage that punched Brynn right in the gut, because she had put it there.
“I believed my vision, Rook. I thought saving my father might redeem me in his eyes. He accused me of fabricating his death in order to win back his favor. I thought that finding some manner of proof that I was right would change the fact that I’m a failure in the eyes of the Congress.”
“The Congress is big on murder?”
“No, they aren’t.” She pushed back another press of tears.
That muscle under his eye twitched again. “You didn’t come here to talk. You came to murder me.”
“No!” She put all of her waning strength into the denial. “I came to solve the murder in my vision before it could occur. The ring was meant for my protection. I didn’t know how you’d react when I told you what I saw.”
“You thought what? I’d try to kill you for asking questions?”
“I didn’t know. All I know of the loup is what my father has told me.”
“Which is that we’re all cold-blooded killers who aren’t to be trusted?”
“Yes.”
“Typical.”
“I never intended to use the ring unless I felt my life was in danger. I hope you can believe that, Rook.”
“Does it really matter what I believe about you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She had no answer. She didn’t know herself why she wanted his forgiveness so desperately. She didn’t understand why his simmering anger upset her so much, or why she’d felt his earlier touch in every corner of her body. Yes, her survival instincts were in high gear, and she knew better than to antagonize an already emotional loup garou. However, this
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