The Savior (Black Dagger Brotherhood #17) - J.R. Ward Page 0,139

cracked.

As she took her leave, she was also very aware that it was a goodbye instead of a see-you-later situation. But she wasn’t going to bring any of that up. They were all having a profoundly happy moment and there was no reason to darken it. Besides, she didn’t imagine they were going to miss her much after tonight, and no, she wasn’t being mopey. The reality was, she was an outsider, whereas they were family.

Back out in the corridor, she paused by the door to Nate’s room. He was staying in the training center until housing arrangements could be made, which was fine. But she was a little concerned that he didn’t seem to want to leave the four walls he’d been in since he’d arrived at the facility. It wasn’t like she didn’t get it. He had been kept in a small space his whole life in that lab. The room he was in now replicated that experience to some degree. He had to branch out, though.

“You can come in,” his voice said through the door.

She pushed the panel wide. “How did you know it was me?”

Nate touched the side of his nose. “Good sniffer.”

Sarah went over to the bed and took his hand. As she smoothed his big palm, she worried about him as if he were still the young boy she’d assumed he was when she first saw him in that cage.

“I’ll be okay,” he told her.

“The Brotherhood will take good care of you.” She’d just learned what they were all called. “You will not be alone.”

“I wish you could stay.”

“Me, too.”

The next thing she knew, she was giving him a hug.

“I’m scared,” he said hoarsely. “I don’t know how to be in the world …”

“You’re among friends.” She eased back and put her hand on his shoulder. “You’re stronger than you know. Trust me.”

There were tears on both sides as they fell into silence. And then she had no choice but to hug him one more time and leave.

Outside his room, she took a moment to pull herself together and she thought of something she had heard about friends. Some were in your life for a season. Some were in your life for a reason. And then there was, of course, the third grouping: The lifelong relationships that you carried through all seasons and all reasons.

Murhder stepped out from the room they’d shared.

He was dressed in surgical scrubs again, as was she, the default wardrobe doing absolutely nothing to conceal how well he was built, how tall he was … how strong his shoulders and heavy his thighs were. She was still having to get used to his short hair, but she found him as handsome as ever.

“Hi,” he said quietly. Like they hadn’t just parted twenty minutes before.

“Hi.”

They both opened their mouths to speak at the same time, but no words came out on either side. And then John’s door opened and Tohrment stepped out, pulling things shut behind himself.

Murhder threw up his hands. “Christ, I’m going, okay. I’m leaving and taking her with me, just like you want, so you can back off as we wait for the car—”

The Brother marched up to him and Sarah stepped back, intending to go for the medical staff when the fight broke out.

Damn it, this was not how she wanted to leave things.

As Tohr came at him like a tank, Murhder fell into his fighting stance. He couldn’t believe, after everything the last twenty-four hours had brought, that the Brother was going to run at him like this—in front of Sarah, right outside from where John was apparently surviving that infection, right next to Nate’s room—

The powerful arms that shot around him did not twist him into a choke hold. They didn’t throw him against the concrete wall. They weren’t a precursor to punches thrown.

Tohr embraced him, bringing him up against a body that was trembling so badly, it was a wonder the male could stand.

“My son …” the Brother said hoarsely. “Dearest Virgin Scribe, my son … you saved my son.”

The scent of the male’s tears was like the seashore had come into the underground training center, and as Tohr dropped his head on Murhder’s shoulder, the Brother wept openly.

Murhder slowly raised his hands and put them on the other male’s back. And then he was not just holding Tohr in return, but holding him up as he sagged.

“Your son is all right,” Murhder whispered. “Your son is going to be okay …”

The outpouring of

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