Why Does Dabi Cry Blood Novels & Stories

The furious cursing and the low, guttural growls of a rogue in labour had finally ceased, replaced by a heavy, expectant quiet that made Atlas pace restlessly in my mind. Suddenly, the heavy oak door of my office clicks open. Liora stirs instantly, her hazel eyes fluttering open as she sits up. Dax stands in the doorway. My fierce, battle-hardened Beta looks like he has just survived a ten-car pileup. His grey sweatpants are wrinkled, his hair is sticking up in every direction, and he is cradling his left hand against his chest, two of his fingers visibly bruised and swelling. Kael had apparently made good on her threat.

He’d heard me introduce myself at the gallery. Still. Hearing him say it did something to me. “I live uptown,” I said, like that explained anything. He just looked at me for another long second. Then he turned and started walking again. I called after him. “Dmitri!” He stopped. Didn’t turn. “You’re bleeding,” I said. He glanced at his hand. Shrugged. “It’s fine.” “It’s not fine.” He finally looked back at me. For the first time, I saw something crack in that iron mask. Not much. Just a flicker. Exhaustion, maybe. Or something softer. Something that scared him more than the guy with the knife.

He raised his hand to wipe my tears. “Jennie… I-I thought that I could keep you from harm if I became a strong warrior… “Ugh… Jennie, I found a way to bring back your wolf…” Before Jake could finish, his grip on my hand loosened. He was gone. My only brother lay dead in my embrace. The light in my world went dark. Then, there it was again. I could hear the howling of my wolf.

The house didn’t feel like mine anymore once the gunfire stopped. Declan’s men moved through the estate with brisk, practiced efficiency, zip-tying the guards who were still breathing, calling for a cleanup crew, sweeping every room for anything the Ghost might have left behind. I stood in the middle of the foyer, blood — not mine — drying on my knuckles, and tried to remember how to breathe like a person who hadn’t just watched her home turned into a battlefield. “Sera.” Declan’s hand found my shoulder, gentler than it had any right to be given the last ten minutes. “You’re not hurt?”