Chapter 185

That evening, I sit on the couch in the living room with the brothers. Archer is to the left of me. He hasn’t gone far from my side since seeing me naked. We never went farther than feather-light touching and gentle kissing, but it was nice all the same. Rough was great, but soft wasn’t bad either.

Neil rests on the couch on the other side of me. He still looks tired. I hoped that his nap after I left him would allow him some measure of comfort, but he looks as exhausted as he did before.

Seven more days, I will be gone and that damned silver will finally be out of him.

I dread the moment I leave for a plethora of reasons: missing the brothers, missing Mia, worrying about my future, or about Wyatt. But knowing Neil will be free of the silver is the one bright spot in the darkness.

Steven sits on one of the free standing chairs. He has his tablet in his hands, slowly flipping through something. Likely the pages of one of his science magazines. He keeps up with all the major publications as well as some minor ones. He’s told me their names. Most of them are too long to remember.

Beau is the only one standing. He’s leaning against the far wall, his arms crossed. He’s changed clothes since his destruction tour of Wyatt’s room. Good, at least he was conscious enough of his actions to know he might drag sharp fragments around the house. Dangerous for feet and babies.

The baby monitor sits on the coffee table between us. Mia has since been fed and burped, and is now down for the rest of the night, fingers crossed. I worry a little about how the brothers have been handling her late-night wakeups.

I guess I should have more faith. I did train them. They seem capable now. Plus it’s good for them to have the hands-on practice while I’m still available. Soon, they’ll have to take care of it all on their own.

“Chloe,” Neil says, looking at me. “You called this meeting. What did you want to discuss with us? Though keep in mind what we spoke about earlier. I have no intention of changing my mind.”

“It’s not about that,” I say, because I already know they don’t have any concrete plans for how to deal with Wyatt. They’ve been running around in circles trying to find Wyatt while protecting me. Archer revealed as much with his earlier reactions and words.

“But it is about Wyatt,” I continue.

Archer’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t say a word. He must know what I’m about to suggest. But I’m not a big enough fool to think that his silence means I have his support. He’s likely only letting me tell my plan, so that the others will lay into me too.

Asshole.

Well, there’s nothing for it, so I plunge forward. “We all know the best way to lure Wyatt out of hiding is to use me and the promise of a rematch as bait.”

The reactions are instant and happen all at once.

Steven drops his tablet.

Beau kicks off the wall, unhooks his arms, and shouts, “What?”

Neil goes incredibly still, though his eyes turn to ice.

And Archer leans back on the couch, making himself more comfortable, like he intends to watch and enjoy the show. Double asshole!

“I’ll be okay. I think,” I say. Gods, I wish I could be more confident about that. “If I don’t actually call it a challenge, then it doesn’t technically need to happen. So it will just be a trap, and then you guys can jump out and catch him.”

“We’d have to be very far away for Wyatt not to sense us,” Neil says, monotone.

“And that bastard will clobber you in the meantime,” Beau says sharply. “You’ll be Nanny pulp before you even know you’re dead.”

Not exactly a pretty thought, thanks for that Beau.

“I know the risks.”

“I don’t think you do,” Steven says. He pushes his glasses up his nose. His tablet is totally forgotten on his lap. “If your ribs break into your internal organs –”

“I could die,” I say. “I understand.”

“Internal bleeding,” Steven continues. “A slow death that is very difficult to stop.”

“You’re not a damn werewolf,” Beau snaps. He’s pacing now. “Why do you insist that you are as tough as one?”

“If there’s another way…” I start. Everyone here knows there isn’t one. That’s my trump card in this conversation.

“We’ll find another way,” Neil says, and he’s so sure, that my heart wants to believe him. But if they were going to think of a true plan, they would have done so by now.

“Neil,” I say.

“No, Chloe,” he replies. “No one here is going to agree to you further endangering yourself.”

“Would Neil even go for it?” Steven asks. “He would have to be a fool not to suspect something.”

“Oh, he’d go for it,” Beau says. “His anger at Chloe would override his sense. Which he never had much to begin with.”

“It’s agreed then,” I say.

“No,” Archer growls.

“What could happen?” I say to him. “With you nearby?”

“He’ll sense us,” Neil says. “I told you that.”

“Well…” Steven says. All eyes in the room turn to him. He dips his head a little. “I might be able to hide our scents from him… and mask our presence.”

“Still, no,” Archer says.

“Look, I know this isn’t ideal,” I say. I look to each of them, pleading to them one by one. “I’m not exactly happy to be the bait, and I know you guys are thrilled to have me in danger again. But this is our best shot. If we don’t catch him now, he’ll only come after me later. And then you guys won’t be there.”

“I made a vow,” Archer growls. “To never see you hurt again.”

“Then keep it,” I say to him. “Be there when he approaches me. Denounce him as your Beta, and do whatever you need to quash his desire for revenge.”

The brothers look at each other. None of them seem happy.

That’s how I know I’ve won.

Twenty minutes, I’m in the kitchen dialing my mom on the phone. Four pairs of ears are just outside the door. With the way they are shuffling around, they aren’t even trying to hide it.

When Mom answers the phone, her voice is so bright, like she’s happy. “Chloe! Another phone call so soon. I am blessed.”

Guilt immediately spears me. I really need to call my mom more. I hate that I’m only calling her now for a favor.

“It’s good to hear your voice, Mom,” I say, and it’s true. My mom’s voice is a comfort. It helps me be strong. We chitchat a bit, but then I try to steer the conversation. “Let me ask you something. Have you seen Wyatt at all lately?”

“Yes, actually,” Mom says. “He’s been visiting us on and off. He seems stressed. I think he might be having a tough time with midterms at school.”

It’s not the time of year for midterms, but I’m willing to let Mom believe that, rather than know the truth.

“Right. Probably. Hey, can you do me a favor? I’ve been having trouble getting a hold of him. Can you give him a message for me, the next time you see him?”

“Of course, dear. What is it?”

“Tell him, I want to give him a rematch.”

At two in the morning, while I’m lying sleeplessly in bed, my phone buzzes on the nightstand. I check.

It’s a message from Wyatt.

It reads, When and where?