The Beast (Black Dagger Brotherhood #14) - J. R. Ward Page 0,86

can do.”

“I have my coat.” The little girl motioned to the end of her bed. “And my shoes are on. I’m ready to go.”

“I’ll be back in a little bit.” Mary headed for the exit, but paused at the door. “Bitty, in my experience, people either work things in, work them out, or work them through. The latter is the best option, and it usually comes from talking about the stuff we maybe don’t want to discuss.”

On some level, she couldn’t believe she was addressing a nine-year-old like that. But Bitty certainly didn’t express herself like someone under the age of ten.

“What do the other two mean?” the little girl said, still working her brush.

“Sometimes people internalize bad feelings, and punish themselves in their minds for things they regret or think they did wrong or badly. It eats away at you until you either crack and have to let it all out or go crazy. Working out means that you avoid what bothers you by channeling feelings into behaviors that ultimately hurt you or other people.”

“I don’t understand any of that. I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Mary said sadly. “Listen, I’ll go speak to Marissa.”

“Thank you.”

Walking out of the room, Mary paused at the head of the stairs and looked back. Bitty was just doing what she had been, running that brush down the ratty hair and avoiding the bald spots.

In all the time she had been in the house, she had never played with any of the toys available downstairs in the communal box: the children, when they first came in, were always encouraged to find one or two that they liked and claim them as their own, leaving the others as joint property. Bitty had been told repeatedly to help herself. Never had.

She had her doll and her old stuffed tiger. That was it.

“Shit,” Mary whispered.

Marissa’s office was on the second floor, and when Mary went down and knocked on the jamb, Butch’s shellan motioned for her to come in even as she talked into her phone.

“—completely confidential. No, no. Yes, you may bring your young. No, free of charge. What was that? Absolutely free of charge. For however long you’re here.” Marissa indicated for Mary to take a seat, and then held up her forefinger in the universal sign for Hold on, just one second. “No, it’s okay—take your time. I know … you don’t have to apologize for the tears. Ever.”

After Mary lowered herself into the wooden chair across from her boss, she reached out and picked up a crystal paperweight that was in the shape of a diamond. The thing was nearly the size of her palm, heavy as her arm, and she smoothed its facets with her thumbs, watching the light refract out of its depths.

Was this ever going to get any easier with that girl, she wondered.

“Mary?”

“What?” She glanced up. “Sorry, I’m all in my head.”

Marissa leaned on her elbows. “I totally understand. What’s up?”

Xcor was removed from the training center at around eight o’clock—and Layla saw it all happen.

As soon as her alarm had gone off after sunset, she had gotten out of bed and propped the door to her room open with one of her slippers—such that as she lay back, she could see a slice of the corridor through the crack. And sure enough, the Brothers had soon moved him, just as she had guessed they would: hearing the sound of many heavy footsteps, she had gotten up and stood to the side so that she could see without being noticed.

Eventually, they had paraded by, and Xcor had been with them, lying prone on a rolling table, a sheet covering him from top of head to tip of foot. As they had passed, she had had to press her hands to her mouth. So many machines with him, clearly keeping him alive. And then there were the Brothers, all of them and each fully weaponized, their massive bodies strewn with deadly daggers and guns.

Closing her eyes and holding onto the door jamb, she’d been consumed by the need to rush out and stop them, to beg for Xcor’s life, to pray unto the Scribe Virgin for his recovery and his release. She had even marshalled words in his defense, things such as, “He has not attacked us even though he knows our location!” and, “He has never hurt me, never once in all the nights I met him!” and the ever popular, “He’s changed from the traitor he once was!”

All of it