Chapter 2: Please Don't Reject Me

 

Briar left without her shoes.

She realized this somewhere on the third block, when the pavement turned from smooth concrete to broken asphalt and something sharp cut into her left heel. She stopped and looked down at her bare feet. She did not remember taking her shoes off. She did not remember leaving the building either. All she could see, every time she blinked, was Vivienne on her knees and Killian's belt hanging open.

It was coming down hard now. Briar stood on the sidewalk and tried to remember where she had parked her car.

She could not remember anything.

She stood there for a while, turning slowly, looking at the street in both directions like the car might announce itself. It didn't. She picked a direction and started walking.

"Briar."

She turned. Mabel Finch was jogging toward her from across the street, her bright orange hair plastered flat by the rain.

"Briar, what happened to your shoes? Come on, my car is right there, let me take you home."

Briar looked at her.

Three months ago, someone had told half the pack that Briar still slept with a nightlight because she was afraid of the dark. That she had once spent twenty minutes trying to open a pull door by pushing it. That she cried at commercials. Small, humiliating things that only one person had ever known.

Mabel had been her best friend since they were twelve.

"I'm okay," Briar said, and kept walking.

"You are not okay, you are barefoot in the rain, please just."

"I SAID I'm okay, Mabel." Her voice came out louder than she meant it to. She didn't care.

Mabel called after her twice more. Briar did not turn around.

She walked for a long time. Her feet found every bad piece of ground there was, every pebble and crack and rusted bottle cap. Not entirely sure where she was going until she was almost there and recognized the iron gate.

Linden Hill Cemetery. She had been here so many times she could find it without thinking.

*Briar.*

Vivienne's voice came through the link. Briar's whole body went tight.

Briar kept walking through the gate.

*I know you're upset. I need you to hear me. What you saw, it wasn't what it looked like. I would never do that to you. You're my sister.*

"You were ON YOUR KNEES," Briar said out loud. Her voice bounced off the wet headstones. "I have eyes, Vivienne. I saw you. I saw exactly what you were doing."

*I know how it looked. I'm so sorry. But Briar, think about it. Why would I do that to you? I have been the one helping you this whole time. Who told you about the territory run? Who helped you plan the birthday surprise?*

Briar slowed down. That was true. Vivienne had always been the one with the plans.

*You are the Luna of Silver Ridge,* Vivienne continued. *You have worked so hard. One bad moment doesn't erase that. But if you fall apart now, you will lose everything.*

"He said we're done." Briar's throat tightened. "He said it like he meant it. He said it like it was nothing."

*He says things when he's angry. You know how he is. Men like Killian need to be shown, not told.* A pause. *The birthday run, Briar. That is still your best chance. You show up tomorrow night, you run with the pack, you show him who you are. That is how you win him back. That is the only way.*

Briar stopped walking. The rain ran down her face and she didn't wipe it away.

"But what if he still doesn't want me," she said. Just like that, out loud, the thing she was most afraid of.

*I know so. You are stronger than you think. You're not what people say you are.* Another pause, brief and practiced. *You're not the stupid, worthless little bitch they all call you behind your back.*

Briar blinked. She turned the words over slowly in her head. Then she nodded to herself.

"Thank you," she said. "That's really nice of you to say, Viv."

*Just do the run tomorrow. Promise me.*

"I promise," Briar said.

The link went quiet.

She found her mother's grave in the back corner. Briar sat down on the wet ground in front of it without caring about the mud.

She had been sitting there for maybe ten minutes when she heard the voices.

She recognized them before she turned around. The same children from the street.

"There she is," the tallest one said. He was holding a stick. "The bad lady who stole the Luna spot."

"My mom says she doesn't deserve to be here," the girl said. "She says she's a liar and a fake."

"We're going to knock over the stone," the smallest one announced cheerfully. "We're going to break it."

Briar stood up so fast.

"NO." The word tore out of her. "No. You do not touch that. That is my MOM. You do not touch my mom's stone, do you hear me, I will not let you touch it."

She stepped toward them and the tallest one swung the stick hard. It caught her across the forearm and she cried out, a sharp ugly sound, and staggered sideways. Her bare feet slipped on the soaked grass and she grabbed for the headstone and missed it completely.

She hit the mud face first.

She lay there for a second. Everything hurt. Her feet from the walk, her arm from the stick, her chest from this morning, her everything from today.

"Ewww," one of the children said.

She pushed herself up onto her hands and knees. She could feel the mud in her hair, heavy and cold. She spat it out of her mouth.

"Get away from her grave," she said. Her voice was shaking badly. "Please. Please just go away. She is my mom. She is all I have left. Please don't touch it."

She tried to stand. Her legs shook and gave out and she hit the ground again, her knee cracking hard against something buried in the mud.

"She fell again," the girl said, delighted.

"Stop LOOKING at me," Briar said. She was crying now, properly, not quietly. "Stop it. Go home. Go to your moms and go home."

She pressed her palm flat against the base of the headstone, her mother's name under her hand, and tried one more time.

She didn't make it.

The cold came in from everywhere at once and her vision narrowed to a small grey point and then she felt hands, large hands, lifting her from the ground. She could not see who. She could not keep her eyes open. She thought she heard a car door close, and then the rain was gone, and there was only dark.

---

Heat.

Briar’s skin was on fire. The sheets were soaked through. She felt a slow, rhythmic grinding inside me. Killian was on top of her, his jaw locked tight and his eyes cold as he stared at the wall. His cock was buried deep inside her, thick and hard, pumping with a mechanical force that held no warmth.

She didn't know why she was clean; perhaps the maid, Mary, had bathed her.

There was no spark, just a dull, aching pressure that made her stomach twist as he thrust his weight into her. Her brain felt like it was melting from the fever, but she reached up and gripped his shoulders anyway.

Briar needed to feel him."Killian... Killian..." she sobbed his name every time his length hit my depths.He didn't answer. He didn't even look at her. When he finally finished and spilled inside her, he pulled out and stood up immediately, leaving her cold and shivering on the soaked sheets.

A pill bottle. Fever reducer.

"Did I..." her voice came out wrong. "Killian. You saved me."

"Your fever was spiking," Killian said. He was already pulling his shirt back on, not looking at her. "Liam brought you back. Not me."

Briar pushed herself upright slowly. The room tilted.

"You should have stayed indoors," he said. "Walking barefoot in the rain. What were you thinking."

It was not a real question. He said it the way he said most things to her, like the answer was already obvious and disappointing.

"Killian." She reached for his arm. "Tomorrow is your birthday. I have been training. I wanted to show you that I can."

He looked at her hand on his arm and said nothing.

"I have a gift," she said. "I have been planning it for a month. Please just let me."

He looked at her hands wrapped around his arm.

"Briar." He pulled free. "What I said at Vivienne's apartment. Don't pretend you've forgotten it already."

"I haven't forgotten," she said. "But  Killian, please."

"Then you know where we stand." He picked up his jacket. "Rest. Drink water. Stay in bed tomorrow."

"Please don't do this." Her voice broke completely open. "Please. I love you. I have always loved you and I am begging you, please just let me try. That is all I am asking. One more chance. Just let me try."

He turned toward the door.

The door was already open.

Vivienne stood in the frame.