He looked down at her, his own eyes watery. His chin quivered slightly. He reached out a hand and touched the side of her face. He swiped some of her tears away with his thumb as his own tears fell from his eyes and he smiled sadly.

“Because I just…” He stopped. The sad smile he had deepened. “Couldn’t do it.”

“That’s fine, Rus,” Ro said, advancing on them now. “You see, Dad doesn’t care anymore which of us kills the bitch so long as she dies. I suppose sending you was probably some sort of test to see if you had the strength to kill. Looks like you failed.”

Through her grief and pain, those words seemed to spear right into Lola.

Failed?

Strength to kill?

That was nonsense. She wasn’t a werewolf and could barely even remember her lessons on them but even so, since when was electing not to kill a bad thing? When did sparing someone’s life mean they were a failure? What kind of savage, brutality did these people live under? In that moment, she realized something important. So important it blunted the pain caused by Russel’s lie and the fact that he had been sent to kill her.

The realization was a simple one.

Russel hadn’t done it.

Instead of killing her, he saved her life. And then he saved her life several times over since that time. Whatever else could be said about him, he was not a failure. In fact, in her eyes, he was not only the complete opposite, he was her protector.

A savior.

She stared up at him, her body relaxing and the anger draining away from her.

“I don’t care,” she whispered.

His eyes widened and he glanced at her, their eyes meeting.

“What?” he asked. She could tell there was something inside him that still felt guilt and shame. A part that detested himself for even agreeing to do what his father had commanded in the first place.

“I don’t care, Russel. I don’t care if you were sent to kill me, okay?” She nearly screamed this out, wanting her words not only to reach him but his brothers too. She turned, her eyes flaring with red hot anger. Her body was stiff and her fists were clenched, one of them hovering close to the handle of her blade where it poked out of its sheath. “And I don’t care what you four assholes plan to do, we’ll fight you and we’ll win. We haven’t come this far to lose now.”

She grabbed her blade and slid it free of its sheath with a whisper of metal against leather. She fell into an easy, comfortable fighting stance, the one Russel had taught her.

“This oughta be good,” the heavy-set brother said. Ray, if Lola remembered correctly. Ray and Ro. Those were the only two Russel had addressed by name.

“Seems like you and your human pet want a nasty death,” the Russel look-alike commented. “We’re more than happy to rip you both apart. And trust me when I say, it’s gonna hurt like a bitch.”

“How bout we quit yappin’ and get to it,” the hairy brother snapped. He threw both arms out wide, fingers splayed, and his nails growing into claws. A wicked, hungry gleam sparked in his eyes.

“Brothers, brothers,” Ro said. “No need to be hasty. Our dear brother here and his human look ready to fight. We have an opportunity for some real fun. We shouldn’t waste it by killing them so quickly.”

“Look,” Lola said, talking to Russel who was starting to change himself. “I’m still pissed you didn’t tell me the truth but you have proved so many times you don’t want to hurt me. You have proved so many times that you care about me. Despite what your father told you to do, I know you won’t hurt me, Russel. And I know you won’t let them hurt me either.”

His eyes flashed with amber fire.

“Damn right I won’t,” he said.

“Then we fight again.” She gave him a wink and then lifted the blade in front of her face.

Both her and Russel stood side by side and faced down the four princes of the Oclan kingdom.