I smacked him on his knee and chuckled. We had put space between us in the backseat. I was the one who scooted away first because when Reno had glanced at us in the rearview mirror, his right eye twitched. I’m sure an exotic dancer snuggling all over the black sheep of his family was enough to raise an eyebrow, and I didn’t want to stir up trouble between the two brothers.

I’d spent years disliking Wheeler because of one incident, and while I still didn’t think he had handled himself admirably, I was discovering a secret side that Wheeler kept hidden from his own family. This man wore tattoos to cover battle scars, and despite his past fighting panthers, he had still risked his life for me.

“Do you have siblings?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“No. Panthers don’t usually have large families. My God, I don’t know how Izzy grew up with siblings close to the same age, and not even the same animal! Brave girl.”

“Crazy parents.”

“You can say that again.” I felt the urge to reach in the front seat and crack the windows; the air was growing sticky and warm. “You should at least tell Austin about your past, even if you don’t mention Ben.”

“I’d rather not talk about this right now. ’Preciate ya.”

“Perhaps we can discuss it in bed later,” I purred. “You can’t keep secrets forever. Your Packmaster needs a better understanding of where you’re coming from. You shouldn’t be shamed by something that wasn’t your fault.”

“It was my choice.”

I turned to face him. “It was your choice to save your brother.”

His lips peeled back. “At the cost of lives? There’s no justifying that.”

Wheeler’s internal conflict seemed clearer to me now. He had to deal with an ungrateful brother, but he also wrestled the demons of feeling like a murderer. Can a person justify killing another to save the life of someone they love? Cage fights were about survival, but Wheeler had already painted himself a killer.

“Family means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”

His voice softened. “It’s the only good thing I have—the only thing worth fighting for.”

“You did that in the cage, you know. Fought for your brother.”

“I murdered people!” His voice reverberated off the windows and ceiling.

I pointed my finger in his face. “You didn’t walk up to someone on the street and take their life. You and other victims—yes, victims—were put in a situation where you had to survive. I’m sure they were just as eager to live as you were and fought ruthlessly.”

Wheeler threw his head back. “Not the first one.” Three deep lines pressed into his forehead and he rubbed at them. “They don’t put new blood in with an experienced fighter the first time. I was caged with another wolf, and neither of us had shifted. He was just a kid. Looked my age, but I could tell he really was that age. He gripped the bars, screaming for them to let him out.”