“Don’t worry—” I began. “It’s all going to be okay. He didn’t know who you were, but you’re safe now.”

Ansel looked at me again. I didn’t recognize the empty smile that cut across his mouth.

“You should have let him kill me.”

THIRTEEN

MY FINGERS DUG INTO his shoulders as I stared at him, unable to speak, not believing what I’d just heard. I could barely recognize my brother’s scent beneath the other vile odors that covered him. Filth, blood, and the sharp tang of fear.

Shay crouched beside us. “Ansel, hey. Take a breath. Everything is cool.”

The knot of sickness tightened when Ansel began to laugh. I’d never heard a sound so chilling. Harsh and devoid of joy.

“Is it, Shay?” he asked, smiling that horrible smile again. “Is everything cool?”

“Ansel, what’s wrong?” I pushed back the hair that was caked on his forehead.

He swatted my hand away, trying to pull himself out of my arms. “Knock it off. Just let go.”

My grip on him only tightened. I couldn’t make anything of his strange behavior. He pushed at me, but I didn’t move an inch.

Shay’s eyes widened as he watched Ansel stop fighting. He stood up, face paling. “Oh no.”

I glanced at him. “What?”

Shay shook his head, his gaze resting on Ansel. “I don’t even know if it’s possible, but I think—”

“You think, chosen boy?” Ansel looked up at Shay with a shudder. “You know. Of course you know.” The smile vanished, replaced by a blank, defeated expression.

“What are you talking about?” I whispered.

“I—” He lifted his eyes to mine. For a moment rage flared within his gray irises, making them flash like a thundercloud full of lightning, but then the light was gone, replaced by a vast fog, thick and hopeless.

Monroe took a cautious step toward us. Ansel didn’t react. He stared ahead, looking at nothing in particular. Monroe knelt beside him, frowning.

“Is he hurt?”

“I don’t know,” I said, keeping my eyes on Ansel. “Baby brother, please. Talk to me.”

“They took it.” Ansel’s whisper was so low I could barely hear him.

“Took what?” I asked.

“Calla.” Shay’s voice had a warning note. “Maybe we should let him rest. Let him be.”

“Me,” Ansel continued, not meeting my eyes. “Everything. It’s gone. I’m dead.”

“They can’t touch you here.” Monroe spoke gently. “Your sister is right. You’re no longer in danger.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ansel said.

My patience snapped. “What is wrong with you?”

I shoved him away and he tumbled along the floor like a rag doll. Oh God. What just happened?

He lay still for a moment and then his shoulders began to shake as he beat the floor with his fists, sobbing.

Connor gaped at my brother. “Can all Guardians just toss each other around? Or was that because you’re an alpha?”

“No!” I fought the terrible realization that spilled over me.

I crawled to Ansel’s side, gingerly turning him over.

“Ansel?” I reached out, but he scrambled back.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Why can’t you fight me?” I thought I already knew the answer, but my instincts screamed out against it.

He glared at me, fists held tight against his sides. “I told you. They took it.”

“You have to explain, An. I don’t understand.” But I did understand; I just couldn’t believe it.

Shay’s voice came from right behind me. “He’s not a Guardian anymore.”

I turned to look at him. His face was still pale and a little green.

“That isn’t possible.” No, no, no.

“It is,” Monroe said quietly, keeping a respectful distance as he watched my brother begin to rock with grief.

“No, it isn’t!” I shrieked, not wanting to believe what I was seeing before my eyes.

“Guardians can be made,” Monroe continued. “And unmade.”

“No!” I was on my feet, standing before my brother as though he were under attack. “It can’t be!”

“Monroe’s right.” Silas smoothed the front of his shirt. “Guardians are aberrations of nature. The Keepers know how to manipulate their creations as they see fit.”

I snarled at him.

He gazed at me, unfazed. “It’s true.”

“Shut up, Silas.” Connor cuffed him on the back of the head.

“Ow!” Silas cried, rubbing his skull. “What? I’m just pointing out—”

“Leave it,” Monroe barked.

“Why?” Shay crouched beside Ansel, watching him intently. “Why would they do this to you?”

Ansel scowled, glaring at Shay. “An example. They needed an example.”

My mouth went dry. “An example for whom?” I croaked.

Ansel turned his gaze on me and I fell back onto the heels of my hands. How could my own brother look at me like that?

“For your pack,” he hissed. “Or did you forget about us since you have all these new friends?”

“Easy,” Shay said, putting himself between me and Ansel. “Calla isn’t the one to blame. She did what she did to save my life. If you’re going to blame someone, blame me.”