Trail of Dead (Scarlett Bernard #2)(73)

“You know, when Bruce Willis rolls through glass, it’s like water off a duck,” I said casually.

Will just looked concerned. “I’m not kidding, Scarlett. That looks really bad.”

Suddenly, Eli shifted a little beside me. A faint smile flickered across his face.

“Scar?” he murmured, and then his eyes opened. He looked at me, then at Will a few feet away, and his face instantly caved in on itself. He remembered. “No,” he moaned. “No.” He curled into a ball on the side, either not seeing or not caring about all the glass. “Will, did I…are they…”

“Yes, Eli,” Will said, his voice empty. “They’re dead.”

“How many?”

“Three.”

“No.” Eli curved even tighter into the fetal position, his face pushing down into the glass. “Not again. You should have killed me first.” There was no accusation in his voice, just a sort of quiet lifelessness. I tried to keep the surprise off my face. Not again? Had Eli killed someone before? This wasn’t the time to ask.

“I tried, my friend,” Will said quietly. “I knew you wouldn’t want this. I’m sorry.”

“Shoot me now,” he whispered to Will. “I don’t want to be this thing anymore.” His body began to shake. “I don’t want to hurt anyone else.”

Will looked at me for a moment and said very quietly, “It might be better—”

“No.” I was not going to let Will shoot Eli. There had been enough damage tonight, enough lives lost. Olivia had already taken too much away from me. And maybe that was selfish, but I’d work the ethics out later.

I glared up at Will, but the alpha werewolf was focused on Eli. “We’ll talk about this when you’re well again,” he said at last.

Eli’s body spasmed with grief, dry sobs escaping his throat in a desperate, wild sound that was more wolf than human. I had no idea what to say, so I put my hands lightly on his shoulders, trying to calm him down—but he didn’t seem to be aware of me anymore. His arms went above his head, instinctively protecting it as he sobbed and sobbed. I looked up at Will, tears in my own eyes. “Give him the sedative,” I demanded.

Will checked his watch. “The doctor won’t—”

“Not that one,” I snapped. “The one you gave that girl.” I nodded toward the woman sleeping on the bar.

Will hesitated. “The doctor will be here in a couple of minutes, then he can have the really serious stuff—”

“Look at him,” I shouted. “Give him the goddamned sedative.” My jaw trembled, but I didn’t look away from Will as he stared at me. He may have been in human form, but he was still the alpha. He wasn’t in the habit of taking orders, especially from a human employee. After a moment, though, he looked away. I had won the staring contest. Bully for me. Wordlessly, Will disappeared into the back office again. When he returned he was carrying a first-aid kit the size of a carry-on suitcase.

“Hold him still,” he said grimly, and I leaned onto Eli’s jackknifing body.

“Shh, Eli, it’ll be okay,” I soothed, but Eli was too far gone to even look at me. Between the two of us, we were able to hold him steady long enough for Will to get the needle in, and a moment later Eli’s whole body went limp under me. I hadn’t realized until then that he’d been straining every muscle he had.

I looked across Eli’s body at Will. “Thank you,” I said sincerely. My voice must have sounded calm, because I think we were both surprised when I burst into tears.





Chapter 25


I cried for a long time. I cried for Eli, who was broken. I cried for Caroline, who was dead, and Kirsten, who was hurt. I cried for Ana and Lydia, whose lives were changed forever just because they knew someone who knew me. I cried for me, for the person I should have been instead of the person who Olivia had made me. I cried for all of us. I couldn’t seem to stop.

While I was crying, Will disappeared for a moment, then came back and pulled me carefully to my feet. He rummaged in the first-aid suitcase and came up with a pair of scissors. I stood there sobbing as he cut away the bulletproof vest, and didn’t feel anything when he gently picked glass bits out of my arms and stomach. He walked around to my back and cut the strap of my sports bra vertically, so the bra straps slipped off my shoulders. A sprinkle of glass bits fell onto the ground with the fabric. He carefully took the ponytail holder out of my braid and fluffed at my hair. There was another muted sprinkle of glass.

I was trying to get control back by then, but it was a losing battle. Will stayed behind me, minding my privacy, and I felt him slip clothing over my head. I let him put the oversized Hair of the Dog T-shirt on me, and I didn’t move or struggle as he knelt in the glass to cut off my jeans and underpants. I didn’t feel the pain of the scratches or the sting of the glass being pulled out. The moment should have been creepy, but Will was being so gentle, and I was crying so hard that it didn’t even occur to me. When he finally stood up, I was wearing only the T-shirt, which reached my midthighs, and my knee-high boots. It was a weird look.

By then I was working on breathing deeply, trying to calm down. When he saw me finally coming back to myself, Will handed me a clean pair of men’s boxer shorts, a bar towel that smelled like detergent, and a glass of water. He turned away while I put the shorts on under the huge bar T-shirt. I drank deeply, and then dipped the towel into the glass and washed my face. Will pulled out a chair from the table next to Eli and brushed it off, then made me sit down and take my boots off to shake out any glass fragments. There were some in my socks, so I took them off, and Will gave me a clean pair from the stash of spare clothing he keeps around for the werewolves, which was probably where the T-shirt and boxers had come from too. The leather boots had held out against the glass, God bless ’em, so I put them back on over the new socks. There were bloodstains on the leather, so they would have to be tossed by the end of the night, but for the moment it was comforting to have them. I gulped in air, completely spent.