Wolf Broken (Wolfish 2)

I, meanwhile, try to shift my posture and grin at the man I’ve only recently come to call father.

“Oh, come on, don’t tell me you tried to talk Rory out of it?” I say. “Not after all the work we put in trying to talk him into it.”

Under any other circumstances, in any other position, Romulus would be fighting back a smile right now. But here, now, there isn’t so much as the hint of a smile on his face. When it comes to Sabrina, he’s always serious.

And it’s exhausting.

Romulus just shakes his head, his eyes focused on his eldest son. He expects so much more of his blood child. Too much, sometimes.

His stare, after a moment, makes Rory finally look away.

“I know you don’t think it’s wise,” he says, finally, “but I’ve made up my mind.”

My heartbeat quickens as it always does when we’re about to defy our father. It isn’t something we do lightly.

His mouth, still unsmiling, presses into a thin line.

“Well then, if you’ve made up your minds,” he says, “then at least do her the courtesy of taking her far enough out that you won’t run into any wandering packs.”

“We know the rules,” Rory says, his voice not able to hide the hint of snarl there.

Romulus doesn’t miss it either.

“Do you?” he snaps.

Suddenly, Lydia appears in the doorway behind him. Even before her hands reach to rest on either one of his shoulders, he’s already seemed to start backing down. His posture relaxes—some, not totally. But his own shoulders seem to melt at her touch, dropping down from their raised posture. He no longer looks like he’s ready to fight.

He just looks tired.

And Marlowe, ever the most astute one, jumps at the opportunity.

“We’ll be careful, we promise,” he says, taking a half step forward towards Romulus still in the doorway. “It’ll be better this way. No accidents. No taking watch up at the top of the hill.”

I grin at that.

I wonder, sometimes, if Sabrina has figured it out yet. She’s always accusing us of leaving her alone when in reality, she’s never alone. We’re always watching over her, making sure that the wayward packs moving territories for the upcoming ceremony don’t linger too long around the cabin. Make sure they don’t get too curious sniffing out the same scent that drew us to her in the first place.

“Just be careful,” Romulus says, his voice strangely quiet. “You forget yourselves, sometimes. Sabrina doesn’t know who you are. She doesn’t know what you are. She doesn’t know what you’re capable of.”

Romulus keeps his eyes on Rory, even as Marlowe speaks. He’s watching him, waiting for something.

In turn, out of my own curiosity, I turn back to look at him too.

Something about Rory tonight … it’s unreadable. I see why he’s made Romulus pause.

I cock my head at him as I look on, wondering what it is on his mind. Rory, out of the three of us, is usually the easiest to gage. He doesn’t act on instinct like I do, or out of a desire for peace like Marlowe. He acts on principle. He does what must be done. He does what’s right.

Why then, tonight, do I get the feeling something about him is different? It’s as if he’s made up his mind about something, but I can’t figure out what it is.

It’s not this trip. It’s more than that.

And it’s a feeling I can’t shake even as we finally climb up into Rory’s car and head off down the hill, ready to grab Sabrina’s things and meet her back at school.

I try to keep excited, try to let my pulse quicken and my mind race again at the thought of the weekend ahead. But more than Rory’s strange attitude, what Romulus said as we left has stuck with me.

I know we keep Sabrina guarded, but what if we’ve withheld too much?

What if she really doesn’t have any idea what we’re capable of?