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think you have a say in this?” he hissed. “You don’t. And you want me to trust you? You scare the shit out of me, Mason. How’m I supposed to trust that?”
    He let go of her and Mason took a stumbling step back, away from the rage and pain and hollow-eyed horror in her brother’s face. Roth had always been a rock for Mason. Theopposite of her self-absorbed jackass of a brother, Rory.
    Roth protected her. He looked out for her.
    He murdered you . . .
    Maybe he was right. Maybe she shouldn’t exist.
    No .
    She shook her head. That wasn’t Roth talking. And it hadn’t been Roth acting, all those years ago. It had been the will of the woman that Mason had just stopped Roth from attacking. Part of her whispered that she should step aside. Let him do it .
    She’d been about to do it herself only a few moments earlier, hadn’t she?
    â€œNo.” Mason shook her head again, partly to convince herself. “I don’t know, Roth. Maybe we can’t truly trust each other ever again. But if that’s the case, then we might as well just give up and admit it’s all over.”
    Roth’s expression went from savage to stricken. His hands dropped to his sides and his shoulders slumped. In the lull that followed, the glass door to the terrace opened and Honora poked her head out. She didn’t look at Mason, just gestured to Toby and Maddox.
    â€œWe could use some extra muscle,” she said. “Just to keep him from injuring himself.”
    The look in her eyes made Mason think she’d silently added the words “or us” to the end of that sentence. Toby glanced at Mason, hesitating, but she nodded for him to go. Maddox was already through the door and gone and Mason felt better knowing they would be there to help Fenn. She desperatelywanted to go to him herself, but Honora’s request for help clearly hadn’t been extended to include her, and the last thing Fennrys needed was for Mason to start stirring things up with the creatures— people, Mase; they’re people —who were trying to help him.
    As the door swung closed behind the wolf-woman, Mason looked down at the shimmering, magickal armor that still clothed her, head to toe. The Odin spear lay on the ground at the foot of the altar, an ancient, brutal weapon. As she stared at it, she felt the wetness of a tear spilling down her face and reached up a hand to wipe it from her cheek. Her fingers came away stained crimson. Mason was weeping blood.
    Huh , she thought, numb with exhaustion. Must be a Valkyrie thing. . . .
    She heard Roth’s sharp breath as he saw the blood on her fingertip.
    â€œPlease,” she said. “I just . . . I can’t. I really can’t handle any more death.”
    There was a moment of silence, and then suddenly he was back across the terrace and she felt his arms go around her.
    â€œLittle sister,” he murmured into her hair. “I’m so sorry. . . .”
    She let him hold her for a moment. Then she pushed away from him.
    â€œSo am I,” she said.
    There would be time to sort out what had happened to them when they were children later. There would be time to deal with Daria and there would be a reckoning and maybe,just maybe, Mason would stand aside and let Roth deal with that however he saw fit. But right then, in that moment, Mason needed to keep it together.
    She shook her head, willing back any more tears and walked over to the Odin spear. Holding her breath, she bent down swiftly to pick it up. It was heavy, but so perfectly balanced that it felt as though she could throw it a mile with barely any effort. She closed her eyes and searched for the small, walled space inside of her that still belonged wholly to Mason Starling, before any of the crazy had happened. It had to still be there, she knew.
    I have to still be there .
    Because if it wasn’t—if she wasn’t—then she really was lost