Chapter 11: Kneel

Mara's POV

I heard the whole thing from the back step of the ambulance, with Joanne's blood drying on my cardigan.

"Make me kneel," Dewitt said.

I looked past the open door.

Nine men stood in the headlights in a half circle.

Ronan stood alone in front of them with his torn hands at his sides.

He looked at Dewitt for a long time.

"Kneel," he said.

His voice was low and hard and exactly like it had been in the hall at Hearthside.

Nothing happened.

Dewitt stood there with his hands open and his friendly smile in place.

"Kneel," Ronan said again, louder, and a muscle jumped in his jaw. "On the road, Faulk. Now."

The wind moved the pines.

A man in the half circle, a thin one in a gray hat, took a step back.

I saw Ronan's shoulders lock.

I saw his hand close into a fist, and the fist tremble.

I understood all at once what I had seen in the yard of the Hall and in the kitchen of the cabin.

Every time he had needed to be strong, he had been slow.

He had been fighting with nothing.

"There it is," Dewitt said softly.

He began to laugh.

It was a low laugh, almost kind.

"Three years," he said. "Three years I've watched you walk into rooms and let them go silent."

He shook his head.

"Alphas fall over themselves at your name, and I've never once seen you give an order."

"Faulk."

"Because you can't."

He turned to the men beside him.

"Look at him, gentlemen. He's been hollow since his mother died. He's a name and a coat."

A mutter went along the half circle.

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