Entwined (Brutes of Bristlebrook #3)

by Rebecca Quinn

Jasper sighs. “Eden, you have spent most of your life alone, making decisions for yourself. From what I’ve gathered, you worked around your grandmother and your husband’s rules more than you ever worked with them . . . because they couldn’t be trusted with that control.” I stiffen in his arms, but he just squeezes my nape, like he knows. He knows how unsettling it is to be summarized in just a few pitiful sentences. Gently, he continues, “A few weeks of submission with anyone, no matter how you feel for them, is not going to overcome a lifetime of learned behaviors and distrust.

No, Jasper. Beau has been wonderful. He’s right about the position I’ve put us in. I shouldn’t have lied. He was nothing but kind and understanding and⁠—” His nose wrinkles in mild disgust. “Right up until you showed a hint of fallibility? Of humanity?

And he didn’t flinch when he said, “I always knew you were mediocre, Dominic, but today, you were a bad leader. And sometimes, the best thing a bad leader can do is walk away.”

all right - now we are learning why Dominic internalizes everything. because his dad was a piece of work

They don’t need me. Eden doesn’t need me. She was incredible up against Alastair, deft and clever. Humbling herself to salvage my shitshow. I knew she was smart, but watching her fox her way out of the box we were in was impressive as hell. She’s a good judge of character. She knew I wasn’t making the right call with the prisoners, so she fixed it herself. She knew I was furious about it, and she didn’t trust how I’d react enough to speak up. She knew I was lacking, just like my father did.

I’ve apologized for my mistakes, and I will make up for them—but I don’t deserve this from him. I’m no one’s emotional punching bag anymore. If he has a problem with me, then he needs to use his words, even if I have to drag him kicking and screaming into an adult conversation.

I remember my exhaustion and hunger and bleeding feet. I remember how intoxicating the idea of sanctuary was, of food and protection. I was lucky. If they had been a different breed of men, if they weren’t so concerned with my boundaries and my comfort, and if they hadn’t listened to me when it was all too much, that situation could so easily have ended atrociously for me.

It’s not okay for men to leverage our desperation to fix their own problems. We deserve better. We are better.

“I’m not a joke anymore, Eden.” His shoulders straighten, and there’s a new pride there. A silent confidence that wasn’t there even two weeks ago. “You said I need to believe in myself or whatever. So I’m doing it. I can do this. I’m stepping up for the civilians—and for you.”

What sort of man gets mad—really, truly mad—at the woman he loves? But I am. My mama always said, a man who makes his woman cry is no man at all. But I did. It’s like admitting it last night broke the dam. There’s so much of this anger in me now, strange and unfamiliar, and I . . . I don’t know how to handle it. And maybe shoving it all down wasn’t the healthiest way, either, but it had to be better than this.

oh LOOK another character development paradigm. goodness me, I thought the reviews said there was no character development.

A bittersweet heaviness settles in my chest. It’s not her own weight Eden’s struggling to carry at all . . . it’s ours. Our endless arguments and all the troubles beneath them. It’s all the issues that have existed long before she ever arrived but that she’s now forced to bear. Jaykob’s defensive resentment, Dominic’s guilty retreat, Beaumont’s fury, and Lucky’s reckless anxiety . . . My absence.

I look down at my rifle, thinking of the civs and our stores. The Reapers on our doorstep, and the Sinners waiting in the wings. My chest constricts a little tighter, and something else touches me. Something miserable and cold that I’ve been running from for too many fucking years. Something fucking . . . lonely. I scowl. Damn it all. What the hell am I even supposed to do here? I don’t think I can do this alone.

uh oh!! another character growth moment. surely not, surely the negative reviewers who said there was none are right. right? right??

Jasper’s voice drifts over their distant chatter. “If we don’t give in to their demands, we could very well starve, and they would let us. Does that make them good? To put a price on another human’s safety? Particularly when it’s a price these women aren’t comfortable paying? Is it good to leverage their strength over people who need their help, too?” “Aw, now, who doesn’t?” Rubbing his eyes tiredly, Beau sits up. “It’s end of days. Safety is a commodity—clearly, or the Reapers wouldn’t be begging for our help. Safety, food, resources. Everything is tradable. Or steal-able, like we proved today. They’re not running a charity.” Beau shrugs. “They made us an offer, same as we did with Eden.”

This is the passage in which all of them have the self-awareness to see the similarities in what they offered Eden at the beginning, and to realize it was wrong. Aw, look at that communal character growth!

I swallow hard, a sick feeling spreading through my gut. We took in the civilians, but only when Eden asked. She was the one who pushed us to help the captives. She was the one who did something about the torture happening in front of her. She broke the shitty-ass deal and stood up for herself. Shit. Maybe we are the bad guys. And I’ve been a fucking coward.

Jaykob isn’t the same man he was when I met him, avoiding connection and responsibility like a wild animal. He’s grown. With her, with the civilians, he’s a different man, one I glimpsed in our sessions but was rarely able to reach.

“Lucien,” Jasper says warningly, and Lucky pauses with a curse. His breath is hot and flushed over my clit, and I can’t help my squirm. “If you make her come, I will be extremely displeased.”

“Got it. World’s worst kitty-eating coming right up. Hey, Jayk, got any tips?” “I hope you fucking drown down there,” Jayk snaps back. Lucky sighs. “Me too.” His head dips again,

I’ve been lucky enough to be pretty healthy most of my life. It was never wounds or colds that made me the sickest. My old man’s voice rings in my ears. “I always knew you were mediocre, Dominic, but today, you were a bad leader. And sometimes, the best thing a bad leader can do is walk away.” I let out a heavy breath, watching the quiet teenager as seriously as he’s watching the window. “You’re not weak, Soren.” His lips compress, and I soften my voice. “But you need to think about which words you take to heart—or it won’t be long before they define who you are.”

But his gaze is battered armor, used to this kind of battle. “I could have killed him when we had him captive.” I blink, frowning, but he doesn’t stop. “We could go back further? I could have killed Sam before he ever recruited his first Sinner. We could have moved. We could have made a deal with the Reapers sooner, been back at their farmlands with two hundred more men at our back.

We could go back and forth all night about whose responsibility this was, or who could have done what differently, but the truth is that it doesn’t matter.”

“Those were your men on watch, Cole. Blame them.” Cole rakes his eyes over my face, apparently disgusted by me. What a fucking joke. “They’re dead,” Cole snaps. “Then they should have kept a better watch.” I leave him behind before he can bitch about it.