“Good on ye, Tats,” Rory says.
Briella curls up between us, her head on my shoulder, and clutching the hat to her chest like it’s the only thing tethering her to the earth.
“Fuck.”
Raphael plants a fist on the mantle, the other hand jabbing the fire like it insulted him. Flames spit and shift. The cabin’s quiet now. Everyone gone. Except her.
Briella’s curled up on the couch in one of my blankets, cap still on, sleeping like an angel. We talk in lowered tones a few steps away,
“I should’ve sent Jude,” Raphael mutters, jaw tense. “Rory wouldn’t spot a tail if it was shoved up his ass. Others could have recognized her.”
I lean against the wall, arms crossed, heart still ticking fast from earlier. “It was late. Place was almost empty. The doctor was warned.”
“She’s ultimately my responsibility.”
I shake my head, arms tightening. “Don’t make me play the one card I hold over you, Raphael. She’s all of ours now. I handled it. We can’t do anything else.”
His eyes cut to me, sharp enough to draw blood. “There is one thing left.”
Something cold creeps into my chest. We hold the silence like a loaded gun between us. I nod once.
Protocol X.
We let the fire crackle. And try not to look at her.
“We’ll protect her, Raph.”
His expression hardens, low and vicious. “We must. There’s no other option. Not after I made her a cripple.”
“She doesn’t act like one.” I force a smirk even though it tastes bitter. “You should’ve seen her today. God. She was magical.”
“We’ll keep her that way through the holidays,” he declares. “No more close calls. We handle this immediately after the new year.”
“Until then?” I ask, wary.
Raphael turns his head slowly, gives me that look—that brand of warning only he can wield without speaking a word.
“Tomorrow,” he announces, “we play the game.”
I bristle, but with one brandished glare, I nod in surrender.
He steps away from the fire, glancing at the couch, then to me. “She’s yours tonight, Vincent. Take her to your cabin.”
My stomach tightens, but I nod again. “Yes, Sir.”
Tonight, she’ll need someone beside her if the nightmares come. And I know how to deal with nightmares the most.
Briella is all curves with some pleasantly plump, but to me? I barely flex when I scoop her into my arms, still wrapped in my blanket. I’m not surprised when she opens her glittery eyes.
There it is. She doesn’t calm the war inside me; she gives it purpose.
She watches me the whole time until we arrive in my cabin.
“I’ll get the pipe stove going,” I say when she shivers.
“You don’t have to. Just carry me to the bed.” She gestures softly. “You have a million wool blankets, and when we’re…we can share body heat.” She blushes and tucks a curl behind her ear.
“Fine with me.”
