to work, he tried on the implications of the whole move thing. Like, where would he take Luchas? “Anywhere but here” was fine, except for the total insufficiency of that plan. Sure, he could transport his brother out of this forest, and into the warmth and shelter of the training center, but then what?
It wasn’t like Manny and Doc Jane were going to work some medical magic and revive things. And dead bodies did not rest well at room temperature. As ghoulish as it was, he couldn’t ignore what would happen as the remains warmed up.
He thought back to Selena’s passing, to when Trez had lit that funeral pyre and the flames had consumed his love. Qhuinn had been in the wings for all that. He had never thought he would so soon be on the main stage.
Yet here he was.
As he sat where he was in snow, he was aware of the cold clawing past the parka Blay had put on him, and he had the sense his lack of decision-making was a delay tactic that made no damned sense. It wasn’t like he was waiting to wake up from a nightmare . . . or for reality to give him another fact pattern.
One that didn’t involve his brother deciding to go out in that storm.
In a quick series of hypotheticals, he imagined Luchas stepping free of the cave. Walking forward. Struggling against the wind, the temperature. He pictured his brother breathing in snowflakes and blinking his eyes against the gusts . . . fighting for his balance, leaning on that cane.
Given how quickly V had arrived with the SUV, it was obvious that Luchas hadn’t gotten far. But that wasn’t much of a news flash. Luchas had struggled with just walking on level floors.
Staring down at the body, Qhuinn became obsessed with details he would never know. Had Luchas fallen a couple of times and gotten himself back up? Or had he just collapsed here? What had he thought of as he had stared out across the snowy ground? Had there been pain? There must have been. Freezing to death was painful . . . right?
Or had he been so consumed with ending his suffering that the process of dying had been an afterthought?
Qhuinn would never know. The only thing he was sure of was that Luchas had chosen this. After so much agony, after Lash’s torture, after the months and years since the raids . . . the male had decided to close the door on hope. On love. On the future.
As a wave of emotion swamped Qhuinn, he knew he couldn’t stay in neutral. He had to deal with this.
And that was when he saw Vishous out of the corner of his eye.
Well, not all of the male.
Specifically his gloved hand.
When Qhuinn looked up into the diamond-hard stare of the brother, V’s expression was remote. “You sure you want to do that, son?”
“He chose this place. He . . . picked this. I’m just trying to think of what he’d want.” Qhuinn shook his head. “And although I don’t know much, I’m sure that tearing him up to get him off this ground is not what he would have wished for his remains.”
“I’ll do whatever you want.” V lifted his curse. “But there’s no going back.”
“There’s no going back already.”
“Fair enough.”
Qhuinn blindly reached for Blay, and as always, his mate was right there, clasping that which had been outstretched.
V dropped to his knees. The brother took his time removing his lead-lined glove, tugging the insulation off his fingers one by one. It was as if he were giving Qhuinn all kinds of opportunity to change his mind.
Qhuinn simply watched as the brilliant glow was unsheathed. The energy in V’s palm was so strong, it burned the eye, but he did not look away.
This was all so terrible. All of it.
And something told him the worst was yet to come.
“Tell me when,” V whispered.
“Now,” Qhuinn heard himself say.
“You need to get back.”
“No. I’m not leaving him.”
“You’re going to move back a foot, son, or I’m not going any closer to him with this thing.”
There was a subtle pull on his shoulder, and Qhuinn followed Blay’s gentle pressure, easing over so he was on his butt, instead of his knees.
And that was when something truly awful occurred to him.
“He’s already in the Fade, right?” Qhuinn looked at V. “He got there okay, didn’t he?”
There was that rumor about suicide, that whispered, so-called rule that if you took your