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“I’m really rat-ass awful at paperwork,” Wrath drawled.

“I just forgot to tell you two what was doing. My bad. Now, of course, this means that you, John, are responsible for the restitution, because the subject being guarded has to settle all debts incurred as a result of protection.”

John immediately signed, I’ll pay—

“No, wait,” Qhuinn cut in. “He doesn’t have that kind of money—”

“Your buddy’s worth about forty million at this point, so he can handle it just fine.”

Qhuinn looked over at John. “What? Why the hell are you working in the office for clothes money?”

Who do I make the check out to? John signed, ignoring him.

“Lash’s parents. Beth, as the Brotherhood’s CFO, will tell you which account it comes out of, right, leelan?” Wrath squeezed the queen’s hand and smiled up at her. When he refocused on Qhuinn and John, the loving expression was gone. “Qhuinn’s moving into the house effective now, and he’s going to have a salary of seventy-five thousand a year, which you will pay. And, Qhuinn, you’re so totally out of the training program, but that doesn’t mean the Brothers and I won’t . . . oh, I don’t know, spar with your ass to keep your skills sharp. After all, we take care of our own. And you’re one of us now.”

Qhuinn took a deep breath. And then another. And then— “I need . . . I need to sit down.”

Like a complete flippin’ lightweight, he stumbled over to one of the pale blue couches. With everyone staring at him like they were about to offer him either a paper bag to breathe into or some Kleenex, he put his hand to where he’d been operated on in hopes of making it seem like he was overcome by his injury, not his emotions.

Trouble was . . . he couldn’t seem to draw any air into his lungs. He wasn’t sure what the fuck was going into his mouth, but whatever the shit was, it wasn’t doing a damn thing to clear the dizziness in his head or the burning sensation around his rib cage.

Curiously, the one who came over and crouched down in front of him wasn’t John or the queen. It was Wrath. The king suddenly appeared in his watery vision, those sunglasses and that cruel face at total odds with the soft voice that he used.

“Put your head between your knees, son.” The king’s hand landed on his shoulder and gently pushed him down. “Go on now.”

Qhuinn did as he was told, and started to shake so badly that if it hadn’t been for Wrath’s big palm holding him steady, he would have fallen on the floor.

He would not cry. He refused to let one single tear out. Instead, he gasped and he shook and he grew drenched in a cold sweat.

Quietly, so only Wrath would hear, he whispered, “I thought . . . was all alone.”

“Nah,” Wrath answered just as softly. “Like I said, you’re one of us now, feel me?”

Qhuinn lifted his eyes. “But I’m no one.”

“Ah, to hell with that.” The king shook his head slowly. “You saved John’s honor. So like I said, you’re family, son.”

Qhuinn shifted his eyes over to Beth and John, who were standing side by side. Through his unshed tears, he saw the resemblance in their dark hair and deep blue eyes.

Family . . .

Qhuinn steeled his spine, got to his feet, and pulled himself up to his full height. Straightening his shirt and then his hair, he became completely and utterly composed as he walked over to John.

With set, straight shoulders, he put his hand out to his friend. “I’ll lay my life down for you. With or without that piece of paper.”

As the words came out of his mouth, he realized it was the first thing he’d ever said as a full-grown male, the first vow he’d ever taken. And he couldn’t think of a better person to offer it to, except for maybe Blay.

John glanced down, then clasped the palm that was presented to him, his grip firm and strong. They didn’t hug, they didn’t speak.

And I for you, John mouthed as their eyes met. And I . . . for you.

“You can ask me about Phury if you want. When you’re finished with that.”

Cormia straightened from the white candle she was lighting and glanced over her shoulder. Bella