Wolf Rain (Psy-Changeling Trinity #3)(69)

The tension in Aden’s body didn’t appreciably alter, his features grim.

“Memory?” A husky, broken voice as Cordelia finally lifted her head. Her greenish-brown eyes were blurred, her pupils hugely dilated. “Yuri hurt himself.”

“Yes.”

“Is he . . .”

“I don’t know.” All connections severed, it could have only one meaning, but Memory didn’t want to think about that, didn’t want to imagine a world where she’d never again take a walk with her friend. Eyes burning, she brushed Cordelia’s hair back from her sweat-damp forehead. “Do you want to go to your cabin?”

“No.” Cordelia sat back, began to look around. “The other Arrows are sad deep inside.” Her hazy gaze cleared on a wave of intense worry. “We should help.”

This, Memory thought, was courage, was heart. She was so proud of her designation at that moment because Cordelia wasn’t the only E who was making their way to an Arrow. Memory made sure Cordelia was up and moving under her own steam, then went to Alexei.

He was shirtless, his chest covered in a dusting of golden fur and a fine spray of red on his skin: Abbot’s blood. She didn’t protest when he put an arm around her shoulders and maneuvered them so that part of her back rested against the warmth of his chest, his hand splayed over her abdomen.

“It wasn’t your Arrows,” she reiterated to Aden. “We all know that. I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way I did earlier.” In her need to protect Cordelia and the others, she’d struck out at the wrong people, and the shame of it lay heavy on her heart. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” the leader of the squad said. “I needed to know. Our proximity at that time could’ve panicked your peers.”

She swallowed and asked the question she didn’t want to ask. “Yuri and Abbot?”

Alexei tucked her even closer to his chest as Aden’s gaze went to the dark patch of grass where Yuri had fallen. “Abbot’s in surgery. Yuri . . . he breathes, but we must make the decision on whether to pull the life support.”

Memory pressed a hand over her mouth, a sob catching in her throat.

Wrapping his arms around her, Alexei said, “There’s no hope? Judd?”

Memory didn’t understand how a telekinetic former Arrow could help, but Aden obviously did. “He’s in the surgery suite, but it doesn’t appear that there’s anything he can do.” Aden looked to Memory, every line of his body held with such precise control that it hurt her to see—he was in as much pain as his men and women.

“Yuri sustained a significant brain injury,” Aden told her. “He wouldn’t want to live this way. We are his family and must honor his wishes.”

Tears rolling down her face, Memory nodded. “The children . . .”

The tendons on Aden’s neck stood out against his skin. “Yuri breathes,” he repeated.

And Memory knew Aden would put off the final decision until there was no more time and he had to let Yuri go forever. There was nothing Memory could do to help her friend, but she could give Aden and Alexei information on the menace that had tried to steal Yuri’s mind and turn him into a murderer. “You need to know about the intruder.”

Alexei’s breath brushed her temple. “You okay to talk?”

“Yes.” For whatever reason, her shields had held, her mind had held. Perhaps because she was a different kind of E, perhaps because her shields were unique—Sascha had designed them for Memory alone, and Memory had built them from the foundations.

“An unknown power invaded the compound today.” Grief a rock on her chest, she used one hand to wipe away her tears. “I saw it take hold of Abbot, then Cristabel, then Amin.” Frowning, she struggled to articulate what she knew. “Not a vision or telepathy. It’s . . . like when I work with Amara.”

She straightened against Alexei, his forearm warm and hard with muscle under her palm. “There’s a connection. Amara can’t read my mind, but I seem to learn pieces of her.” It was the only advantage nature seemed to have given her—with Renault, she’d spent so much time fighting his coercive tactics that she’d never consciously realized it.

“The invader’s mind brushed up against mine while he was scanning for another target, and I knew he was crushing the Arrows’ minds in an attempt to force their actions.” A sudden shock of knowledge before the instant was past.

“He?” Aden’s voice shimmered with frost.

“Yes, I’m sure.” The intruder’s sense of identity was strong. “A man who’s powerful in some way—there was an innate confidence to him.”

“He have what you call the nothingness inside him?” Alexei’s voice was a rumble she felt against her back as much as heard, the rough reality of it her anchor.

Memory parted her lips to reply yes, of course, then paused. “No,” she said slowly, her eyes widening. “He isn’t devoid of emotion, and he felt no pleasure during the attack . . . but there is a strange ‘wrongness’ to him. An image seen through cracked glass.”

“Insanity of another flavor?” Aden asked in that same winter-frost voice Memory hoped his mate would be able to thaw.

It was Jaya who’d told a disbelieving Memory that the leader of the squad was happily mated to a “kick-ass” Arrow assassin. “She’s terrifying—but only to people who dare hurt her people—and she has a huge heart and Aden worships her.”