The heart of a warrior.

Rhage had never seen anything like it. Or certainly never expected it out of a trainee. He himself had been going down, the reality of war reminding him that battles were like Mother Nature: No matter how strong and well-trained and well-equipped you were, every once in a while, the tide could turn against you, and if it did, you could get in over your head in a heartbeat.

And that was what had happened.

Too much blood loss. Too many opponents. Too arrogant in assuming he could handle his shit when half of his mind was back home with Bitty and Mary, and the entirety of his soul was in pain.

And he should have used his fucking weapons.

The tide had turned so quick, too. His legs had started to go jelly, and then he’d realized he was going to go to ground—and soon thereafter it was over, a father’s promise of safety to his daughter turned into a lie: He was going to get swarmed and they were going to kill him—and even the beast couldn’t help him. He’d expected the great dragon to come out, and it nearly did—but just as the transformation was about to happen, he’d gotten the arterial wound and his blood pressure had started to tank, and all bets had been off.

Still, the beast had saved him once in that condition, though … not tonight, however.

Not tonight.

But then Axe had come from out of nowhere, attacking the first of too many lessers by daggering it in the chest. The trainee had then gone for the next, stabbing its skull into the asphalt—only to get counterattacked from behind, a huge slayer leaping onto his back and lashing Axe’s face and shoulders with a length of chain.

There had been no stopping the trainee, though. Hell, Axe hadn’t seemed to even notice what was on top of him: Even bleeding, stabbed in places, shot in the leg, and with a lesser riding him like a horse, the male had been unrelenting, lurching to Rhage and ultimately taking the knife that had been meant for Rhage’s throat in his own side.

Down the male had gone, like a great oak in the forest.

And now Rhage was reaching for the trainee, extending a hand across the pavement as the snow started to fall on both of their bleeding bodies.

So brave.

Axe’s unfocused eyes shifted in his direction, their stares meeting. Blood was coming out of Axe’s mouth and was all over his chest.

Thank you, son …, Rhage mouthed. Thank you …

All at once, people came running, all kinds of Brothers and then Manny with the surgical RV and still other folks. There was immediate surgical intervention, right on the ground, for both him and Axe, and Rhage refused to lose consciousness. Just wasn’t going to.

In spite of the fact that his body was cold and numb and his eyesight was blurry and his heart was square dancing behind his sternum, he refused to let go of reality.

He was afraid he wasn’t going to come back.

The view of what they were doing to Axe got blocked as Manny started to work on the bleed on Rhage’s shoulder, and Rhage looked up to the sky. The snow that was coming down from the heavens landed on his lashes and melted, and he pictured Mary and Bitty, their heads together, the pair of them smiling at him as if they were in a snow globe.

Two Chosen arrived, and when a wrist was slit and placed against his mouth, he did what he had to in order to survive.

He hoped Axe was doing the same.

He didn’t want that kid’s death on his conscience.…

Sometime later, he was loaded onto a gurney. Axe was, too—with no shroud over his face. So the male must still be alive, right?

“Let me see him,” Rhage demanded. Okay, “asked” was more like it, given how weak his voice was.

He was rolled over to the guy. Axe was naked and patchworked with bandages, an IV running into his arm, tubes coming out of his ribs, a heart monitor beeping like a metronome that wasn’t working right.

“Is he going to die?” Rhage asked.

Manny put his face within Rhage’s sight. “Not if I have anything to do with it. That goes for you, too.” The surgeon turned away and barked, “Get him in the unit.”

Rhage hissed as a bumpy ride started, and then he got a great view of the brightly lit ceiling of Manny’s RV. Axe was loaded in behind him.

“Don’t tell Mary,” Rhage said to anyone who might have been listening.

Manny’s face came back. “Really. You really think that’s an option? I just field-treated you with about a hundred and fifty stitches—and I’m going to have to fine-tune that back at the training center. You think that shit isn’t going to come up in conversation?”

“I don’t want her to worry.”

Butch’s puss entered the picture, too—and the Brother was furious. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have gone rogue, asshole. Jesus fucking Christ, did you want to die out there—”

Manny put his palm over the cop’s ENT. “Enough. He’s my patient right now. He can transition to being your punching bag when he isn’t catheterized and can stand up on his own two feet to take a piss.”

“Axe saved my life.…”

That was the last thing Rhage said before he went nighty-night.

There was something magical about Christmas trees.

As Mary sat in the library at the mansion, her feet up on the coffee table in front of a crackling fire, a mug of hot chocolate in her hand, a candy cane between her lips, she stared across at a perfect Douglas fir. Decorated with red velvet swaths and gold balls and red and gold lights that twinkled in silence, it was the tradition that she, Beth, John Matthew, Butch, and Manny had all grown up with, a reminder of things past, a centering and grounding that helped her connect the two parts of her life story, the before and the after.

“There are so many presents under there,” Bitty said as she came in with a refill on her cocoa. “I have extra marshmallows, by the way? I’ll share?”

“Oh, thanks, but mine are still holding up.”

Mary patted the cushion next to her and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world for Bitty to come over and snuggle close, the girl tucking those Lassiter-healed legs under her bottom.

“I better hit the songs again,” Mary said as she reached for the remote to the surround sound. “I love Bing Crosby.”

“Ohhhhh … ‘Winter Wonderland,’ ” Bitty murmured, “I think this is my favorite.”

“Mine too.”

“Do you think Father will watch Home Alone again when he gets off work?”

“I think you can take that to the bank.”

There was a period of quiet between them, the soft chatter of the fire and the old-fashioned Christmas music the only sounds that filled the cozy room.

“Mom?”

“Hmmm?” Mary took a sip of her hot chocolate and marveled how, even with so much being wrong, the warm drink was still delicious. “Is there something you need?”

“What’s going on?”

Annnnnd now what was in her mug tasted like dishwater. “What do you mean?”

“I know there’s something wrong. You and Father are not acting right. Did I do something bad? Do you not want to adopt me?”

Mary sat up so fast she nearly cocoa’d the couch. “God, no, never, we want you always and forever.”

The girl stared across at the tree. “Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent. Bitty, look at me. Please.” Those beautiful eyes swung up. “Don’t ever doubt how much we love you. No matter what happens, that is one thing you will never have to worry about.”

“So what’s wrong?”

Mary hesitated. She didn’t want to lie, but at the same time, the stuff about that male was not the kind of news that she wanted to share without Rhage being with them—and even more to the point, she still didn’t know what to say about the “uncle” who’d turned up out of nowhere.

“Ah—”

The sound of fast footsteps made the hair on the back of her neck stand up: In the mansion, that noise coming in your direction was not something you ever wanted to hear when your hellren was out in the field.

When John Matthew appeared in the doorway, she got to her feet as she saw his ashen face. “How bad?”

“What’s going on?” Bitty said with alarm. “Father—what happened to my father?”

John Matthew started signing, and Bitty just got more agitated. “What is it? What’s wrong!”

“Okay, okay …” Mary reached out for the little girl. “It’s all right. He just got injured, but they’re bringing him in and I’m going to go see him—”

“I’m coming, too—”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, sweetheart.”

Bitty crossed her arms over her chest. “Am I a member of this family or not?”

Mary swallowed an abrupt lump in her throat. “You may not like what you see.”

“He was with me when I was at Havers’s. I will be there the same for him.”

John Matthew whistled softly and then signed as Mary looked over. She nodded, and made up her mind.

“Okay, come with me. But here’s the deal, it’s up to the medical professionals. They may only let one of us in at a time—or maybe not at all.”

“Whatever Doc Jane and Dr. Manny say, I’ll do.”

Mary held out her arm and Bitty came in close again for a quick, frantic hug. Then together, they hustled to follow John Matthew out into the foyer, around the base of the grand staircase, and down into the underground tunnel to the training center.

As they rushed along, passing beneath the blocks of fluorescent lights in the ceiling, she and Bitty stayed linked, their strides falling into the same gait because Mary shortened her stride a little and Bitty lengthened hers.

“Don’t cry, Mom,” the girl said softly.

“I didn’t know I was,” Mary whispered as she wiped her cheeks. “I’m just so glad you’re with me.”