And then cutting him out of that…that couldn’t have been easy.
I look at him then, really look, trying to see past the man in front of me to whatever history sits behind that statement.
“Even now,” he says, “even with everything that’s changed…that’s not a cut I’ll make. Not a sin that I’ll carry on my cross.”
“Of course you won’t,” I murmur, snapping the rubber band on my wrist. “Why would you choose me over someone who was there first?”
He’s giving me the truth, and it shouldn’t sting as much as it does. He’s not mine. None of them are mine.
“It’s not just that,” he says, lifting his hand to punch the computer into sleep with frustrated motions. “Deacon still works for the Syndicate. I don’t have the manpower to take them on.”
He gestures at himself slightly, like the explanation is simple. “It’s me. Shiloh. Ever. That’s it.”
Three men. Against something big enough to erase entire families with security teams. To erase lives and follow them for decades afterward.
To erase me.
I go quiet, because what am I supposed to do with that? I nod once, slow. “I understand.”
I don’t. Not completely.
All I hear is: You’re on your own.
All I feel is: They’re protecting him.
His hand slides up my side again, slower this time, deliberate in a way that pulls my attention whether I want it to or not.
“I answered your questions.”
“I have more.”
“You’ll survive for now. You need to process and not spiral.”
He stands, wrapping my legs around his waist and lifting me with him before I can react, and carries me back toward the bedroom like the conversation we just had didn’t change anything.
Like it didn’t crack something open that I can’t close again.
Like I didn’t just get everything I needed, and none of what I wanted.
Like nothing shifted between us with his admission.
Like I didn’t just hear the name of the man who destroyed my life spoken in the same calm tone he uses to order coffee.
What was I thinking? Asking these men to help me kill someone they’ve called brother. Asking them to choose me. Someone they don’t know.
Someone they definitely can’t trust. Because even through all of this, I know nothing has really changed.
I’m still going to kill Deacon…or he’s going to have to kill me.
Revenge is the only thing I have left, and I refuse to let it go.
You asked for something true instead of something careful.
All right.
I don’t know that I believe people get one family in this life.
Sometimes I think we get pieces. A person here. A place there. A habit, a dog-eared book, a meal somebody remembers to put in front of you before you realize you’re hungry.
