Page 283 of Psycho Pack

"Wraith," I call out softly, stepping closer through the settling debris as I pick up my shotgun from where it landed by what's left of the wall. I don't take my eyes off them for a second. "Let go."

His blue eyes meet mine, and I see the silent plea there. He doesn't want to be the monster our father tried to make him into. Doesn't want to prove him right. Or maybe there's some part of him that still loves the man he so desperately wanted to be a father.

That makes one of us.

I watch my father's eyes flash with that familiar cruel light as he stares up at Wraith. Even with my brother's hand around his throat, he manages to twist his lips into that mocking sneer I remember from childhood.

"Do it," he rasps, his voice rough but still dripping with disdain. "Do it, you fucking useless beast!"

The words echo through the smoke-filled study. Even now, our father is spitting into the face of death to try to force my brother to do what he wants. Tobewhat he wants. But it isn't working. Wraith's massive shoulders are trembling, his grip loosening slightly.

He can't do it.

And he shouldn't have to.

He isn't a monster like me.

"Let go!" I yell to Wraith, and he does, just in time.

The shotgun blast is deafening in the enclosed space. Blood and brain matter paint the remaining books on the shelves behind what used to be our father's head. Somehow, I think the headless stump of our father's neck will be a more pleasant memory than that cruel smile.

Wraith staggers back, blood spattering his mask and tactical gear. His blue eyes are wide with shock as he looks from our father's corpse to me. The confusion in his gaze makes my chest tight.

I lower the smoking shotgun slowly, my voice coming out softer than I expect. "I meant what I said before."

Wraith just stares at me, still frozen in place. Blood drips from him onto the expensive carpet as the final song on the record drags on, the warped notes ghostly as they fill the strangely quiet room.

I close the distance between us, holstering my shotgun on my back and placing my hand on Wraith's shoulder. "You didn't choose any of this," I tell him firmly. "And it wasn't your place to finish it. No more killing. You're done."

Understanding dawns in Wraith's eyes, followed by something else. Something that makes my throat tight. Before I can process what's happening, he pulls me into a crushing embrace.

His arms are like steel bands around me, squeezing so tight I can barely breathe. But I don't care. I wrap my own arms around him, returning the hug with equal force. We've never done this before. Never allowed ourselves this kind of vulnerability with each other.

It's hard to breathe, but it's... nice.

Kind of find myself hoping the old man's ghost is lingering around long enough to have a shit fit about it.

"Come on, brother," I say, finally pulling away. "Let's go get our girl."

Epilogue

Igaze out at the Surhiiran lake from the balcony of our villa by the shore, watching the sun's pink rays dance across the pristine water as it sinks behind the clouds. Listening to the soft, rhythmic lap of waves against the white cliff below.

It's the villa I spotted as we left Surhiira on the train, and just as I suspected, it's perfect for us. The white marble of our new home somehow manages to blend perfectly with the wild landscape around it. Plague even had beautiful blossoming plants and vines transported from the hanging gardens around the palace to enhance our little slice of paradise.

This villa was Plague's gift to me. To the whole pack, even though I was the one who'd planted the idea in his mind. He had Surhiira's best architects and builders start working on it the morning we all left Surhiira on the train, making it perfect for us.

It's a celebration of the safety we've found together. And after everything we've been through as a pack, we've more than earned it.

More than earned our rest.

I lean over the balcony railing with a contented sigh, watching gentle waves spread across the lake's surface. The gilded hull of the white catamaran we use to travel back and forth to the marble city glints in the setting sun. On the rear exterior hull, the name Whiskey insisted on giving it is glinting, too.

The Wildcatamaran.

While Whiskey was on a roll with naming everything in sight, he named our villa the Chateau Two. It's kind of a tongue twister, and it isn't a chateau at all.

But it fits.