“Shifters heal fast, sure, but ravens sleep deeply when they’re injured,” she said. “They can be weak for a few days afterward. I’m not leaving until he’s one hundred percent fine.”
Seeing the stubborn set of her jaw, Tao spoke to Trey. “We’ll stay awhile. What are you going to do about Ramón?”
“Call him back,” said Trey. “Impress upon him just how pissed I am and make him hear me loud and clear when I say that Taryn can’t help his brother. We’ll also tighten security in case the persistent bastard tries taking a shot at anyone on our territory. I’ll keep you updated. Watch your back and take care of Riley.” The line went dead, and Tao slid his phone back into his pocket.
“Tao,” called Max, “help me get him upstairs.”
With a nod Tao went to Ethan’s side and helped Max support his weight as they ascended the stairs. “Why hasn’t anyone responded to the shots?” Tao asked.
“A lot of humans go hunting around these parts,” said Max. “Gunshots don’t raise any alarm bells. I’ll call Sage in a minute. If there’s a human loitering around the perimeter, they’ll be found.”
Following them into the bedroom, Riley watched as Tao and Max eased Ethan onto the bed. She’d never once seen Ethan hurt or weak. It chilled her to see him so pasty and . . . vulnerable. The wound might be closed, but it still made her stomach roll.
He’d be okay, he would.
She was hit with a sudden memory of telling herself the same thing as she’d seen her father lying in his own bed, weak and pale. She’d assured herself that he’d be fine, that he was just tired, that her mom would be back soon. Only he wasn’t fine, and her mom didn’t come back.
And suddenly she wasn’t looking at her uncle anymore. She was looking at her father. She was four years old, standing by his bed and grabbing his big hand with hers. Ethan and Sage were arguing. Ethan said this wasn’t the place for her; that she shouldn’t have to watch her dad fade away. Sage had argued that she might be enough to make her father hold on and stay. But she hadn’t been enough; he hadn’t held on. He’d let go. She’d thought that maybe he’d come back and bring her mom with him. But he hadn’t, he’d left her, and she’d hated him for it.
Swamped by the overwhelming despair she hadn’t felt in a long while, Riley wanted to turn and flee, but she felt rooted to the spot. Her muscles were sore and stiff from standing so still, but she genuinely couldn’t move. And as the memories slapped her one after the other, a heavy weight descended on her.
As it had long ago, it pulled her under until she felt numb and completely disconnected from what was happening right in front of her. Sound seemed to disappear from the room, and she felt alone. Empty. Cold. She’d been in this dark place before, a place where no one could reach her. Maybe it was better that way, because what kind of person hated their father for dying?
As Max left the room to call Sage, Tao glanced at Riley. She was unnaturally still, her shoulders tight and her stare vacant. Something about the sight made the hair on his nape and arms stand on end.
Crossing to her, Tao turned her to face him. Her eyes met his, but there was nothing there. He could almost see her retreating into herself, closing herself off from everything around her. He knew exactly what he was looking at. He remembered his orphaned cousin doing the same thing smack-dab in the middle of a street as an ambulance went by.
Seeing Ethan hurt had acted as a grief trigger.
Cursing himself for not having considered what the situation might do to her, Tao cupped her cheeks. “Riley? Riley, look at me.” She didn’t respond. Hell, she didn’t even seem to see him. His wolf raked at Tao, wanting him to do something. “Ethan’s fine, baby, he’s just sleeping.” Still she didn’t respond.
Panicking a little now, Tao lightly slapped her cheek. “Riley, come back to me.” It was a whisper, but it held a command. “He’s going to be fine, I swear that to you.” When she still gave no reaction, his wolf almost lost his fucking mind.
Wondering if prodding her temper might work, Tao collared her throat in a move that was both dominant and possessive—a move that would make any dominant female bristle. Her eyes sparked with anger and he almost fucking sighed with relief. “That’s it; good girl.”
She licked her lips, back with him now. But her breathing was shallow and barely audible. Tao put her hand on his chest. “I need you to breathe with me. Deep breaths, okay? In and out, come on.” She breathed with him over and over, never once breaking eye contact. “You good now?”
“Yeah.” Her voice cracked, so she coughed to clear it. “Yeah, I’m good.”
Thank fuck. Curling an arm around her, he crushed her to him and buried his face in her hair. “Don’t go away like that again. You scared the shit out of me.” Her arms slid around him and she tucked her face into the crook of his neck and shoulder. Tao just held her until the tension seeped out of her.
After a minute she pulled back and flipped her hair away from her face. “I just need a minute.”
Sensing that what she really wanted was time alone to regroup, Tao nodded and released her. “Don’t go far.” He expected her to go downstairs. Instead she headed to the room across the hall that he guessed was her old bedroom.
Max, who’d been observing from the top of the stairs, crossed to Tao. “She’ll be okay.”
“Does that happen a lot?”
“It used to when she was a kid. She watched her dad deteriorate right in front of her. Neither me nor Ethan thought she should have been allowed in the room as much as she was, but Sage believed that her presence might pierce through her dad’s pain and make him fight to live.”
“Did he fight?”
Max’s mouth turned down. “No. He didn’t even try. I was so pissed at him for that. Hey, I’d be broken if something happened to Ethan, and I’d feel like I had nothing to live for. But Daniel did have something to live for—he had someone who needed him right then, but he barely looked at her. He was too deep in grief, too swallowed up by his pain, to even bother to find the will to hold on for Riley. I’ll never forgive him for that. And I’m not sure if she will either.”
In her position, Tao doubted he’d be any more forgiving.