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“Come here,” Brock said, and gathered her close. He held her for a long time, his strength so comforting and warm.

“Mitch accused me of caring about my career more than I did him or Libby,” she whispered, her voice broken, the words hard to get out. “He used to say I was too controlling, too stubborn for my own good. But he always gave in, even then.”

Brock kissed the top of her head. “You didn’t know what would happen, Je

“I just feel so guilty that I survived. Why couldn’t it have been me who died, not them?” Tears strangled her now, hot and bitter in her throat. “I never even got a chance to say good-bye. I was medevaced to the hospital in Fairbanks and put in a coma to help my body recover. When I woke up a month later, I learned they were both gone.”

“Jesus,” Brock whispered, still holding her in the caring shelter of his embrace. “I’m sorry, Je

She swallowed, trying not to lose herself in the agony of those awful days. It helped that Brock was there to hold her now. He was a rock of strength, keeping her grounded and steady.

“When I got out of the hospital, I was so lost. I didn’t want to live. I didn’t want to accept the fact that I would never see my family again. Alex and my brother, Zach, had taken care of the funerals, since no one knew when I might come out of the coma. By the time I was released from the hospital, Mitch and Libby were already cremated. I’ve never had the courage to go to the cemetery where they are interred.”

“Not in all this time?” he asked gently, his fingers stroking her hair.

She shook her head. “I wasn’t ready to see their gravestones so soon after the accident, and every year that passed, I never found the strength to go and tell them good-bye. No one knows that, not even Alex. I’ve been too ashamed to tell anyone just how weak I really am.”

“You’re not weak.” Brock set her away from him, only enough that he could bend his head down and stare her solemnly in the eyes. “Everyone makes mistakes, Je

His words soothed her, but she couldn’t accept all that he was saying. She’d seen him grapple too much with his own guilt to know that he was only being kind now. “You’re just telling me this to make me feel better. I know you don’t really believe it yourself.”

He frowned, a quiet torment passing over his face in the darkness of the Rover.

“What was her name?” Je

A nod, barely discernible. “Her name was Cori

“That image must be several decades old,” Je

Brock understood the question she was asking now, she could see that by the somewhat wry look in his eyes. “It was July 1935. I know, because I’m the one who took the picture.”

Je



“Cori

His frown deepened. “Yeah.”

“And you hold yourself responsible for her death,” she prompted carefully, needing to know what he’d been through. She wanted to understand him better. If she could, she wanted to help him bear some of his own guilt and pain. “How did it happen?”

At first, she didn’t think he would tell her. He stared down at their entwined fingers, idly rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. When he finally spoke, there was a raw edge to his deep voice, as though the pain of losing Cori

“Back when I was in Detroit, times were very lean. Not so much for the Breed, but for the human cities we lived in. The leader of a local Darkhaven and his mate had taken in a couple of young homeless girls, Breedmates, to raise as their own children. I was assigned to watch over Cori

Je

“To put it mildly,” he said, shaking his head. “Cori

“What happened?”

“Cori

“Too often, that’s not the case now, either,” Je

He gave a faint nod. “There were some looks and whispers. Couple of white men had too much to drink. They came over and said some crude things to Cori

“Did the men know what you were? That you were Breed?”

“Not at first. I knew my rage would give me away, and I knew I had to get out of the club before the whole place saw the changes come over me. The men followed me outside. Cori

Je

He shook his head, then brought her palm to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the center of her hand. “What I feel is anger, at myself. I never should have let her out of my sight, not even for a second. When news reached me that a young woman’s brutalized, burned body had been recovered from a city river not far from the clubs, I felt sick with dread. I didn’t want to believe it was her. Not even when I saw the corpse with my own eyes … what remained of it, after what someone had done to her prior to the three months she’d been left in the water.”

Je