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“My brothers?” he said.

They all stopped talking, stopped moving. He looked at each one, noting the grim casts to their faces. They hated this, and he understood perfectly. Hurting any one of them would have been unbearable for him. It was much better to be on the receiving end.

“I have one request, my brothers. Don’t bring me back here, okay? When it’s over, take me somewhere else. I don’t want Mary to see me like that.”

Vishous spoke up. “You can stay at the Pit. Butch and I will take care of you.”

Rhage smiled. “Twice in a less than a week. You two could hire out as nursemaids after this.”

V clapped him on the shoulder and then left. Tohr followed, doing the same. Phury gave him a hug as he passed by.

Wrath paused on his way out.

When the king remained silent, Rhage squeezed the male’s bicep. “I know, my lord. I’d feel the same way if I were you. But I’m tough. I can take it.”

Wrath reached into the hood and took Rhage’s face into his palms, tilting it down. He kissed Rhage’s forehead and held the contact between them, a pledge of respect from the king to his warrior, a reaffirmation of their bond.

“I’m glad you’re staying with us,” Wrath said softly. “I would have hated to lose you.”

About fifteen minutes later, they reconvened down in the courtyard by the Escalade. The brothers were all barefoot and wearing black robes. With the hoods up, it was hard to tell who was who, except for Phury. His prosthetic foot showed, and he had a bulging duffel bag slung over his shoulder. No doubt he’d thrown bandages and rolling tape into the thing as well as the weapon.

Everyone was silent as V drove them behind the house and into the mountain’s thick beard of pines and hemlocks. The road was a single dirt lane, crowded by the evergreen trees.

As they shot along, Rhage couldn’t stand the tense silence a minute longer.

“Oh, for God’s sake, my brothers. You’re not going to kill me. Could we lighten up a little?”

No one would look at him.

“V, put on some Luda or Fifty, will ya? All this quiet is boring.”

Phury’s laugh came out of the robe on the right. “Only you could try to turn this into a party.”

“Well, hell, you’ve all wanted to nail me a good one for some shit I’ve popped, right? This is your lucky day.” He clapped Phury on the thigh. “I mean, come on, my brother, I’ve ridden you for years about the no females. And Wrath, a couple months ago I needled you until you stabbed a wall. V, just the other day you threatened to use that hand of yours on me. Remember? When I told you what I thought about that goatee monstrosity?”

V chuckled. “I had to do something to shut you up. Every damn time I’ve run into you since I grew it, you ask me if I’ve French-kissed a tailpipe.”

“And I’m still convinced you’re doing my GTO, you bastard.”

That got the ball rolling. Rhage stories started flying around until the voices were so loud, no one could hear anyone else.

As his brothers blew off steam, Rhage settled back against the seat, looking out into the night. He hoped like hell the Scribe Virgin knew what she was doing, because if his beast got loose in the Tomb, his brothers were in deep shit. And they just might have to kill him after all.

He frowned and looked around. He located Wrath behind him. Could tell who it was because the king’s black diamond ring was on the male’s middle finger.

Rhage arched back and whispered, “My lord, I beg of a favor.”

Wrath leaned forward, his voice deep and even. “What do you need?”

“If I don’t…make it through this, for whatever reason, I beg of you to watch over Mary.”

The hood nodded. In the Old Language, the king said, “As you wish, so I am sworn. I shall look upon her as I would my own blooded sister and caretake her as I would any female of mine own family.”

Rhage exhaled. “That is good. That is…good.”

Soon enough, V parked the Escalade in a small clearing. They got out and stood around, listening, looking, sensing.

All things considered it was a nice evening, and this was a serene place to be. The breeze winding its way through the countless branches and trunks