Chapter 132

Abigail

“You’re being dramatic,” I said, arms crossed, pacing the length of our room like a caged lioness with a bad attitude and nowhere to put it. My boots thudded against the hardwood floors in time with my pulse—frustrated, sharp, unrelenting.

Owen stood across from me, stiff as a statue in front of the tall arched window, moonlight ghosting over his features. “I’m being sensible,” he snapped.

Which was rich, considering this was the same guy who practically dragged me away after not getting his way for once. God, I was so done with whatever shifty emo era this guy has entered.

He was reminding me of Dad more and more, without the reason.

“We can’t go,” he continued, shoulders rigid, jaw clenched like he was chewing on every word before spitting it out. “Mom and Dad told us to stay. We’re not even supposed to be talking about this.”

“Oh, good,” I muttered, throwing my arms in the air like I was conducting an orchestra of bad decisions. “Let’s just blindly obey the same people who once told us that Santa was real until we were, what? eight?”

“You were ten.”

“I was being polite.”

“It’s called respecting authority, Abigail. Something you lack over and over.”

“It’s called having a spine, Owen!”

“It’s called ‘You certainly like almost dying a lot.”

My hands dragged down my face, “Ugh!”

“Wow,” came a voice so dry it could’ve started a brush fire. “This is the worst episode of Family Dynamics: Alpha Edition I’ve ever seen.”

We both turned to glare at Theo—still tied to one of the antique dining chairs like some sort of feral Christmas decoration. He was reclined as much as one could recline while bound by enchanted rope, one leg draped over the other, expression bored and delighted all at once.

Still, he was barefoot. That flashy red hair and overalls not helping his case.

“Do you ever wear shoes?” I asked flatly.

“Odd question now considering everything going on,” Theo said with a shrug, like it was obvious. “Besides, I’m thinking about my fit. Maybe something less rouge traitor, more redemption-arc vibe.”

“Oh, shut it,” Owen and I said in perfect, exhausted unison—although I couldn’t help my giggle.

Theo raised his eyebrows like a proud parent whose kids had just taken their first synchronized step.

I turned back to Owen, my teeth grinding. “Look. Mark is out there. Possibly chained up. Possibly tortured. Possibly worse. And we’re here—what? Playing house? Taking turns angsting at the fireplace? Practicing our brooding in the mirror? Were appart of this pack! We should go fight! Come on Owen, I’m done with your moods! We need to—”

“Don’t act like you’re the only one who cares about him!” Owen snapped, his voice cracking with something too jagged to be annoyance. His eyes flashed with something raw—grief, maybe. Or guilt.

I blinked, caught off guard. “Okay, where did that come from?”

He turned away from me, his whole body tense like he was holding back a shift. His fists were balled so tight I was surprised his knuckles weren’t cracking. “Forget it.”

“No, I won’t. You’ve been off for days! Snapping at everyone. Especially me! But you won’t tell me anything! You almost took Theo’s head off and he’s trying to help us! You think I haven’t noticed? What’s going on with you?”

A loud sigh left him, “Just drop it, Abs.”

I took a step towards him. “No! I won’t! You can’t treat me like you’re Mom or Dad! Like you know better then me! You can’t force me to just, just listen to you! You have to talk to me!”

“Abs—”

“No! I—!”

His voice roared, “Because I’m a failure!”

For a beat, there was only silence.

Then—

“I failed him,” Owen muttered. The words were quiet. Sharp. Like broken glass ground into the floorboards. “I failed both of you.”

I stared at him, my brain catching up half a second too slow. “...What?”

“I was supposed to keep us together,” he said, still not looking at me. “That’s what big brothers do, right? Protect. Lead. Be the rock or whatever. But you nearly died at that shrine and I didn’t stop Mark from leaving. I didn’t even see it coming. Sure, he’s his own person but it’s my fault he stepped in at our meeting, had to fight for me. I should have… handled it before it even happened.

And now he’s... he’s in some hell camp, probably being tortured or brainwashed or—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “He was born with the same curse as me...the only person who might actually understand how much I hate myself right now is him, and he’s not here.”

It was the most he’d said in days.

And it shattered something in me.

“Owen…”

He still didn’t look up.

So I crossed the room, kicked Theo’s chair out of the way—earning a loud, offended “Ow!” and a “that was antique, thank you”—and threw my arms around my brother.

“You’ve always been a good brother,” I said, quieter now. “Even when we were little and you told me I couldn’t turn into a were-dragon and I punched you in the jaw—still a good brother.”

“I stand by that,” Owen grumbled against my shoulder. “You were a menace.”

“Still am,” I said with a grin he couldn’t see. “And I always will be. We were separated but brought back together for reason.”

He let out a breath that sounded suspiciously like a laugh and let his forehead rest against mine.

“If you really feel like you let him down,” I said, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes, “then let’s go fix it. Let’s bring him back. Let’s fight. Not because someone told us to. Not because of some prophecy or bloodline. But because we’re family. And we don’t leave each other behind.”

He sniffed. “You’re gonna get us killed… or grounded forever.”

“I was already grounded. I just hadn’t told Mom yet.”

“Aww,” Theo cooed from the corner, “sibling bonding. You want me to take a picture? Maybe knit you matching sweaters that say Emotional Wreck Club?”

Owen turned, glaring. “You planning to mock us the whole way there?”

“Oh, I plan on mocking you for life,” Theo said, deadpan. “But more importantly…” He wiggled his tied hands. “If you two are planning to stroll into rogue-infested territory without a guide, you’re both dumber than you look. And you look very dumb right now.”

I crossed my arms. “So you’re offering to help? Finally?”

“Sweetheart,” Theo said, with that maddening smirk, “I turned myself in so you’d take me seriously. I could’ve bolted. Could’ve crawled back to my Daddy Dearest, sold you out, and earned a new title—‘Most Loyal Disappointment.’ But I didn’t.”

“And we’re supposed to trust you why?” Owen asked, folding his arms so tightly across his chest it looked like he was bracing for an avalanche.

Theo sighed, tipping his head like a tired schoolteacher. “Because I’m adorable, obviously. And because I’m probably your only shot at getting to Mark and your parents before something stupid happens. Like, I don’t know, his captors start monologuing him into submission. That does run in our family.”

I glanced at Owen.

He glanced at me.

Then I walked over, untied Theo’s ropes, and let them fall to the floor.

Theo blinked. “No inspirational music? No dramatic slo-mo hug?”

“I’ll give you a slo-mo punch to the face if you don’t behave,” I said, grabbing my coat.

“I like her,” Theo said to Owen, elbowing him with a grin.

“Don’t touch me, weasel,” Owen muttered, dragging his hands down his face.

“Come on boys,” I said. “In the name of the moon, let’s go be idiots together.”

And we stepped into windowsill then dropped into the night—three disasters in motion, hearts bruised but steady.

Because family didn’t always make sense.

But you didn’t leave them behind.

Not ever.

At least, not without back up.