Chapter 6

The man stares at me before a devious grin breaks over his lips, revealing rotting teeth. His hands slide up his chest, gliding over the rock tied around his neck with a leather strip, then he yanks it away from him. The leather falls slack as he holds the stone between his dirty fingers, and I notice the blood staining his hands. 

“Gemmy?” he says, tilting his head to the side.

My stomach twists and my heart cries out, trying to understand what is happening. This can’t be Jude. He is too old, too far gone as a rogue…

“Y-you aren’t Jude.” I say confidently. His snake-like tongue slips out, licking his dry patchy lips, then he grins, a wickedness glimmering in his eyes. 

“No. But you are Gemmy aren’t you? The name that blonde kid kept crying out when I killed the pompous little fuck—”

My chest bursts in pain, my mind echoing with one thought. Murder. My vision goes red as I lunge for him, a feral cry tearing from my lips as I hammer my fists into his chest and draw out my claws.

I can feel the pain slashing across my face as I injure him and my stupid gift kicks it back to me, but I fight through it, my inner turmoil so much more than anything I could ever feel. The rogue screams and I know he is fighting me back, but my body is numb to it. 

Then there is nothing. My hands land on empty space and I spin, tears streaming down my cheeks like a cascading fall, looking for the dead man walking through my blurry eyes. The pain disappears, my breathing growing normal as I wipe at my face and find Roscoe in front of me, his hands cupping my cheeks, worry dotting his brow. 

“Where is he?” I shriek, trying to shove him off of me as I search for the first person I will ever kill. And I WILL kill him.

“He is knocked out, far enough away to keep you from feeling his pain.”

“MOVE!” I roar, trying to lunge past Roscoe, but he wraps me in his arm, immobilizing me. “I swear on everything I will make your life HELL if you do not let me go.”

“He is baiting you,” He says, trying to calm me.

My muscles go slack, my emotions taking over as exhaustion hits. I have done too much healing today, too much…living…while my baby brother is dead. My only family. The only reason I survived in that fucking hell hole. 

Bile rises in my throat, the burn is one that I relish, a pain I deserve. I failed him. Just like I failed our parents. I should have tried harder, I should have done more…

Roscoe’s hands grip my face, but I’m already lost in my sorrow. Everything hurts from the outside and back again. Everything is wrong with the world and I just want to succumb to it all. I just want to be with my family.

“Gemini,” Roscoe’s voice is soft, but I don’t respond to the mountain of a man trying to help me. He has nothing for me, he has already caused me pain. Why can’t he just let me crumble?

“Please,” I rasp out, my voice hoarse from the tightness in my throat. “Please, just kill me.”

He pinches my chin, forcing my eyes to find his, and they are blazing in anger, a feral side of him staring at me.

“Never.” he says firmly, and I bite my lip as the tears stream down my cheeks, a small sob breaking through. 

“I don’t want to live without him.” I stutter out and he sighs.

“Do you want me to kill him?” He asks, and I frown, looking up at him. 

“No, I want to kill him–” 

“That is out of the question.”

“He killed my brother!” I hiss at him, pushing his hands away. 

“If you try to kill him, it will kill you. Did you forget you have no control over your healing?” He reminds me and I press my lips in a thin line, disappointed that he is right.

Killing this asshole would only mean my wolf and body would try to heal him. There would be the risk of my own injuries killing me and him healing and surviving. I shove my hands into my hair, groaning in frustration.

“I hate this fucking world!” I groan.

It sounds whiny, but it’s not any less the truth. What have I done to live like this? To lose both parents, be forced into healing everyone at all times from the age of twelve. And now this? Losing my brother because of jealousy in the pack and now he is just…gone? Plucked from the earth like his life had no meaning? Like he was worth nothing when he was my everything?

Roscoe leaves me crumpled on the ground, striding over to the asshole whose body is mangled around a tree. He stoops down and, with one hand, drags the man up by the back of the neck, holding him so I can see. I have no idea what he intends to do as I watch him with the same burning desire to cut that asshole into shreds. 

“Can you feel his pain?” he calls out to me and I furrow my brows.

“No,” I holler back, and then he takes a step closer.

“How about now?” He asks, and I listen for the hum of pain in my body, finding nothing. 

Roscoe steps forward again, his eyes studying me, waiting for me to tell him when I feel it. He gets about twenty feet away and I can feel the tingling in my leg where the rogue’s leg is bent awkwardly.

When Roscoe takes one more step, the pain hits me like a sports car hitting a brick wall at top speed, and I gag. Immediately, the pain dissipates as Roscoe steps back and I pant, watching him. 

“Now we know how far away to keep him,” He says and I look at him confused. 

“I don’t understand.”

“I know this asshole,”

“As in, you are friends?” I clip out and he shakes his head with a frown. 

“There is no being friends with rogues.” He says. “This idiot is what the other rogues call a scavenger.”

“They have titles amongst them?” I ask, surprised. Roscoe shrugs.

“They live a life out here, not a good one, but they are still living beings with a life outside of their hunger for killing. I have seen this one around a lot over the years. He steals, he doesn’t kill, he is too weak.”

I don’t dare to hope, but it finds its way into my heart and my mouth is dry with it, nearly suffocating me with the thought that maybe Jude is still out here…if this rogue steals…and is a scavenger, that could mean that maybe…maybe Jude isn’t dead? 

“Will he answer questions?” I ask.

“Not willingly,” Roscoe says with a shrug. “But I will get you whatever answers you need.”

I narrow my eyes, trying to see the joke here. One minute I’m his rejected mate and the next he treats me like I’m some little pet, and now he wants to get me answers?

“What do you want in return?” I ask, and a small smile plays across his plush lips.

“Just you.”

“Me? why?”

“I don’t know how, but you are the only person who can enter and leave my pack.”

“Yes, all while hurting you.” I remind him, and he rolls his eyes like the information isn’t important. 

“That is irrelevant,” He frowns. Well, how ironic.

“Seems pretty relevant,” I mutter.

“Why must you argue about everything? I am trying to offer you help.”

“You are offering me a ‘plea deal’ at best, Rocky,” I say. He arches a brow.

“Explain how it’s a plea deal.”

“You want something in return. You want me to stay with you, or mate with you, or be your personal healer?”

“Yes.” He says simply and my eyebrows shoot into my hairline. “I want you to be my personal healer, and my go between with my pack.”

“For how long?” I ask standing and crossing my arms over my chest.

“Until we figure out how to break this curse.”

“So you want my help to break this curse for you too?” he nods. “You realize staying near each other will probably lead to the bond re-igniting?” 

“I can always reject you again,” he shrugs. I scoff, because that’s the last thing I need right now. Another rejection.

The asshole stirs, his eyes squinting as he looks around him.

“Oh good, you are awake just in time.” Roscoe smirks and guilt tries to bleed into me.

I force it away. Either this dickwad killed my brother or he knows something about what happened to him. How the hell else would he not only have Jude’s necklace I made when we were kids, but know his nickname for me without even knowing my name?

“What the hell?” he groans, looking down and seeing he is being suspended in the air. His glassy eyes flit from Roscoe to me.

“Did you kill my brother?” I ask, and he watches me closely before sighing. 

“Why the fuck would I tell you—” A loud thud rings through the forest as Roscoe Hammers a balled up fist into his solar plexus before lowering him onto his feet.

“Because right now, that was me asking you nicely. I really don’t want to play nice, but I am. So please, test my patience and watch nice play slip away into fun play. I really enjoy torture.” Roscoe says with a grin then tosses a wink in my direction.

“I didn’t kill him!” He stutters out, “I saw him getting hassled.”

“Then how do you know my nickname?” I retort, taking a step closer, but Roscoe parries me by stepping back and scowling at me. 

“Alright, I followed the kid for a little bit. Do you know what a tiger stone is worth out here?” He scoffs. “It’s a bargaining chip, something to trade for my life.”

“How. Do. You. Know. Her. name.” Roscoe growls, squeezing his neck.

“He cried it out in his sleep a few times when I tried to steal it!”

“So you stole his necklace?” I ask, getting pissed off. 

“No! He dropped it when he shifted. Scared the shit out of everyone, too. They had him cornered and laughing at him because he was just a kid, you know? Like what bad could he do to be exiled out here? Then he fucking shifted. His eyes went weird and—”

“Woah what?” Roscoe asks, his eyes wide, looking at me. “Weird, how?”

“They glowed blue…” I answer for the rogue idiot, who nods with furrowed brows. 

“So you know what he is.”

“Of course I do! He is my baby brother.”

“What is your brother?” Roscoes asks me curiously. I square my shoulders, not willing to tell him what he can’t figure out on his own. 

“He’s a true alpha,” the rogue says, grinning.

Roscoe stares at me, shock written all over his face before it morphs into something I can’t decipher, then all emotions disappear from his face. Like hearing what my brother is scares him.

Like suddenly I scare him.