“No, but I think he will.” She glanced back at Rage, who watched them through shuttered eyes. Even though his body posture was casual, as if he didn’t care one way or the other what they did, she sensed something deep inside. Saw something haunted in his eyes.
Something familiar.
“He plays it easy, like he doesn’t give a shit, but deep down he wants to belong,” she murmured, her gaze locked on Rage. “Whatever happened to him growing up, it left a void inside him. He tried to fill it with Mammon, but you guys know all too well what a futile effort that is. I think he’ll give anything, even his life, for a chance to feel like he’s part of something. Even if only for a moment.”
A long moment of silence.
“How do you know this?” Ronin asked.
She turned her gaze back to the man she loved like a brother, the man she’d desperately mourned after he disappeared from her life. For the first time since she’d been reunited with him, she spoke the words in her heart. “I know because I feel it in him, Ronin. That need to belong, to be loved. Because I felt the same way. Before I found you guys.”
Ronin sucked in his breath, his eyes going soft.
When Dagan squeezed her hand, she shifted her gaze to him. His warm, reassuring smile melted her from the inside out.
“I’m proud of you,” he murmured.
Thank you, she mouthed, unable to force the words past the sudden clog in her throat.
Suddenly she knew…she would have to tell Dagan the whole truth about her role in Sara’s death. Maybe he’d hate her for it, but he needed to know. Because this was one secret she just couldn’t live with. Every time he looked at her with love in his eyes, she’d know she hadn’t told him, and it would eat at her until there was nothing left.
No, he had to know.
“I agree with Lina,” Dagan said, his tone strong and sure. “We all know what it’s like to grow up with a void. We had each other at least. That poor sap—I get the sense he didn’t have anyone. And that really sucks.”
Well said. Lina grinned at Dagan. Somehow she thought he could probably relate.
Keegan cleared his throat, his voice noticeably softer when he said, “Maybe we can give him a chance.”
Taeg sighed, then shrugged. “As long as we move from this clearing in case he decides to give up our location, I guess I don’t see the harm in giving him a shot.”
“Don’t mean to break up the party,” Tenos called out from the other side of the clearing, his gaze still locked on the moon and the currents of energy he pulled down from it, “but this barrier is about to come down again. Might want to get everything in place.”
Keegan broke from the rest of the group and stalked across the clearing to where Rage stood. “You willing to help us, no matter the consequences?”
Rage gave him a casual nod. “Sure, why not?”
“It could mean your death, or worse,” Keegan warned him.
“Fuck, I’ve lived long enough.” Rage gave him an easy grin. “Besides, I could use a little excitement in my life.”
“In that case…”
When Keegan held out his hand, Rage’s tentatively hopeful expression said it all. The hybrid slowly reached out, as if he thought Keegan might pull away at the last moment, and shook Keegan’s hand.
Keegan shot him a quick grin. “Welcome to the club.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Belpheg stood in the massive clearing of his front lawn, a group of twelve strong men gathered around him. Flickers of energy pulled at him from the invisible shield. It was about to fall.
Let it.
He had everything he needed now. His men stood in place surrounding him, and the clan scrolls were in his hands. The only thing in question was the extent of his abilities.
This damned, failing body.
He should have had more than enough power to hold the shield in place, fill Mammon with the strength he needed, and perform the centering ritual. But he had to recognize the truth—he didn’t.
So he would sacrifice the shield, and he would use the power of the solstice moon to simultaneously grant Mammon additional power, perform the centering ritual, and call the Council members here. It would work.
It had to.
Failure was not an option, not after a lifetime of preparation to take the Council on. Give them what they deserved.
“Remain in place,” he called to his twelve as he rolled the scrolls and clutched them in one hand, using his connection to pull every available bit of power from the vellum pages, comprising his most prize possession. He raised both hands in the air and began to chant the words in his native tongue.
“Wava eterme, therso me, hirsue me, ectones flavone con eka shae. Reké flavone a lisha. Nivo me con mivafé tua.”