Ryder stopped him. He caught the wood. All but disintegrated it in his fist. “Never come at her!” he roared.
Then he heard the laughter.
Ryder stared into the human’s eyes. They looked a little . . . lost. Unfocused.
And that mocking laughter had haunted so many of his dreams.
“You always were too impetuous . . .” Malcolm’s voice. Ryder turned slowly and found Malcolm holding Sabine in his arms. His brother bent to smell her hair. “You just could never see the real threat that was right in front of your face. The threat that’s been there, all along.”
His brother.
Ryder grabbed the human’s head. Turned it to the side. Saw the faint bite marks on Keith’s neck.
Son of a bitch. Malcolm had just forced Keith to attack, in order to distract Ryder.
“They’re just puppets, aren’t they?” Malcolm murmured. “Puppets and food.”
Ryder pushed Keith away. He faced off against his brother. Cassie was still there, her frightened gaze flying back and forth between Malcolm and Sabine.
“Wh-what are you doing?” Cassie asked Malcolm. “Let her go!” The woman was scared, but she didn’t appear to be under Malcolm’s control.
Appearances could be so deceiving.
“Of course.” Malcolm smiled. His fangs glinted. “I’m not desperate for her blood like the others, so I should just let her go. It’s the right thing to do.” His fingers were wrapped around Sabine’s neck. “But fuck the right thing.”
He snapped her neck.
“I never gave a shit about right,” Malcolm said. “Not after my change, and, sorry to ruin this for you, brother, but not before, either.”
He had a stake in his hand.
The broken neck . . . that wouldn’t have killed Sabine. Ryder rushed forward. She’d recover from the break. She’d recover.
But not if his bastard of a brother staked her.
He grabbed Sabine’s hand. Yanked her body away from Malcolm. When he turned to shield her with his body, Ryder felt strong fingers close over his neck.
“You love her.”
Carefully, because her broken neck hadn’t healed yet, Ryder lowered Sabine to the floor. Cassie gave a wild cry and rushed toward her.
When Ryder stood, Malcolm moved in a flash and put the stake right over his heart.
“I didn’t think you could love. I thought you were like me.” Now Malcolm sounded disappointed. But he’d made a mistake. He hadn’t attacked when he’d had the chance.
“I used to think that I was just like you,” Ryder told him. “But then I realized I wasn’t broken.”
The tip of the stake pushed into his skin, drawing blood.
“They buried me. I wasn’t dead. I could feel everything. Do you know what the worms and insects did to me?”
Ryder’s jaw locked. “You’d lost your head. You were staked.” He should have been dead.
“It takes more than a stake to kill you and me. Let me show you.” Then Malcolm shoved forward with that stake.
Only . . .
Ryder’s hand flew up. He stopped the wood before it could do more than—fuck me—press against his heart. The pain pulsed through him, burning and white-hot.
Malcolm’s eyes widened in surprise. He tried to push down with the wood. “You’re . . . stronger.”
“I was always stronger.”
He heard a gasp behind him. Sabine. Coming back to him. Healing. Bones cracked.
Ryder yanked the stake from his chest. Malcolm jumped back and gazed at him with furious, desperate eyes.
“None of this was my choice!” Malcolm bellowed. “You should have let me die with the rest of our family. It wasn’t your call to make! You should have let me die then!”
Ryder nodded. “Yes, I should have.” Malcolm’s words were so familiar to him. His head cocked even as the blood continued to pour from his chest. “Julia,” he murmured, understanding so much more now.
Malcolm smiled.
“You’re the one,” Ryder said with a slow nod. “You wanted them to take me out.”
“I wanted you to wind up in hell, with me,” Malcolm snarled back. “Those Genesis bastards found me. They took my blood and kept me prisoner in their cells for years.”
Ryder stared at him. When he looked hard enough, he could almost see the brother that Malcolm had once been, back when they were both still human.
I never gave a shit about right. Not after my change, and, sorry to ruin this for you, brother, but not before, either.
But maybe he’d never even known him then.
“I told them about you,” Malcolm confessed. “Told them that if they wanted real power”—his lips twisted—“then they wanted you.”