“You and me both,” Ithan mumbled, and hissed as Bryce dabbed at a slice across his brow. He pulled his head from her reach. “It’ll heal. That one’s already smaller.”
“I’d guess claws made that,” Hunt said, arms crossed. Syrinx hopped onto the sectional, turned in a circle three times, then curled up in a ball.
Ithan said nothing. Bryce reached for the wound again, but he pulled his head farther back, wincing in pain.
“Why the fuck are you here, Ithan?” Hunt’s voice was like gravel.
Ithan’s brown eyes, one half-swollen, met Bryce’s. Ire glowed in them. “I didn’t tell them to bring me here. Perry … my pack’s Omega … She arranged it.”
A fuzzy memory of a brown-haired female emerged. Perry … Ravenscroft. Amelie’s younger sister. “She did this to you?”
Ithan huffed a raw laugh, then winced. His ribs must be—
Bryce lifted Ithan’s bloody gray T-shirt, revealing disgustingly carved abs and—“Holy shit, Ithan.”
He yanked the shirt back over the extensive bruising. “It’s fine.”
“Those look like broken ribs,” Hunt said wryly.
“Definitely broken ribs, Athalar,” Bryce replied, sitting back on her heels. “And a broken arm, from the way he’s cradling it.”
“Skull fracture’s healed,” Hunt observed with equal distance, as if they were on one of his favorite Vanir crime procedurals. Ithan’s eyes flashed again.
“I’m sensing hostility and a good dose of male pride,” Bryce said.
“Throw in some stubbornness and I’d say we’ve got ourselves a classic case of stupidity,” Hunt answered.
“What the fuck is wrong with you two?” Ithan demanded.
Bryce smiled at Hunt, all thoughts of the betrothal and her father and the Asteri vanishing at the amusement glittering in the angel’s eyes. But she stopped smiling as she faced Ithan again.
“I promise to clean you up as quickly as possible, and you’ll be on your way,” she said.
“Take your time. It’s not like I have anywhere to go.”
Hunt stilled. “Amelie kicked you out?”
“Sabine kicked me out,” Ithan growled. “She, Amelie, and the others did … this.”
“Why?” Bryce managed to say.
Ithan met her stare. “Why do you think?” Bryce shook her head, disgust creeping through her. Ithan said, “You know how Sabine operates. Some reporter cornered me at a bar a few weeks ago about the attack last spring, and I talked about … what happened. How I helped you. The article came out this morning. Sabine apparently wasn’t a fan.”
“Oh?” Hunt lifted a brow.
Ithan’s bruised throat bobbed. “I might have also defended you,” he said to Bryce. “Against a nasty quote from Sabine.”
Bryce resisted the urge to pull out her phone to search for the article. Nothing in there would make her feel better about this. So she said, “Sabine’s a City Head. This is really what she wants to waste her time on?”
“Wolves don’t talk shit about other wolves.”
“But you did,” Hunt countered.
“So did Sabine.” He said sadly, wearily to Bryce, “The Prime called you a wolf. That’s good enough for me. I, ah … It didn’t sit well, what Sabine said. But I guess the article didn’t sit well with her, either. So I’m out.”
Bryce exhaled a long, long breath.
“Why bring you here?” Hunt asked.
Ithan grimaced with pain. “Perry remembered that we were friends, once upon a time.” He tried and failed to rise. “But give me a few minutes, then I’ll be gone.”
“You’re staying here,” Bryce said. Honestly, after the night she’d had, it was the last thing she wanted. Especially when she still had to call her mom and convince her to get out of town. Gods, if Ember found out Ithan was here, she’d never leave. She’d loved him like a son. Bryce shook off the thought. “You’re lucky Sabine didn’t kill you.”
“Trust me, she wanted to,” Ithan said bitterly. “But I wasn’t worth the legal headache that would cause.”
Bryce swallowed. Connor’s little brother had once been her best friend, after Danika. Fury and June had come after that. Gods, how many messages had she and Ithan swapped over the years? How many juvenile jokes had they shared? How many times had she bounced in the stands at one of his sunball games, screaming her lungs out for him?