It’s as though I’m made of nothing. As though not even my fractures are left of me.
Gabriel’s words are echoing in my mind. Widening the void inside of me.
I suppose… I should have died. A long time ago.
Reuben’s feet stop right before Tobias, further away from me, before crouching down to his eye level.
“Speak now,” he orders. “Clearly.”
I barely hear it. The re-telling.
“So Philip fucked with us,” Reuben summarizes in a scarily calm tone. “Xavier cut corners. Christian lost his shit. And everyone just said whatever they fucking wanted.”
The rest of us are quiet.
“Does everyone else have the same account?”
“Yes sir.” Gabriel and Xavier mumble from their spots beside me, but still, I remain quiet.
There are a few moments of silence before Reuben stands, “Understood. We will continue to follow the Harvester… However, I will be re-taking control of the operation.”
Xavier’s head snaps up.
“I told you to be more cunning when hunting your food, Xavier.” Reuben’s voice is cold and I can imagine the look on his face, even without meeting his eyes. It’s the promise of a storm, low and inescapable in the air.
“I didn’t say you could play games with me.”
I hear Xavier’s heartbeat quicken.
“Dismissed.” Reuben’s presence has cooled everything down; all the tempers from moments ago, it feels like ash between us now, when it was just molten lava.
“After we take the Harvester’s head… I will find appropriate punishments for each of you.”
The team brushes past Reuben to leave the port and continue tracking Philip, but the moment I try to follow, Reuben steps into my path. He doesn’t speak but I can feel his gaze burning into my skin. One I ignore until I’m certain we’re the only ones left.
When I raise my eyes to meet his, I can see it there. The worry, the apology, the anger, sifting inside him. Just a moment ago, he was the third son of the Don. He was the leader of a team of mercenaries.
But now he’s just… Reuben. The person who’s been burrowing inside me all these weeks.
The person who’s been making me weak.
The moment he steps forward, I step back, keeping the distance between us, and a shadow passes across his face for the barest of moments.
“… I didn’t know anything about this,” he confesses.
“… It doesn’t matter,” I say softly.
“Christian—” Another step forward.
Another step back.
His jaw ticks.
“It doesn’tmatter, Reuben,” I say the words slowly, before looking away. “You made the right call.”
“Gabriel’swrong—”
“No.” It’s like the words are grey. Lacking all the colour I’d learned these past 1,345 days. “He’s not. If I’m not adding value to this team… if I’m just getting in the way—”
