Reaper wasn’t being an arse because he didn’t want us.
It’s because he needed to learn we are not the arse who beat him.
He trusts us, Failinis.
Our Grá Croí trusts us!
Theroar of the crowd faded from his awareness, replaced by an insistent thrum in his blood, urging him to allow his wolf to emerge. The glow of Reaper had flickered through the bond, igniting Failinis’s restless energy, bringing movement below his skin as his wolf pawed at the door in his head.
Out. Now.
Yes. You will run soon, brother wolf.
Catching Oisín’s eye with a nod, he handed his hurl to a nearby warrior whose face split with eagerness at the unexpected gift. “Time for us to run,” he called out. His grin was wide across his face as he backed away, and with quick strides, he carved a path toward the awaiting forest.
Out.
Out.
Shift.
Failinis rumbled beneath the surface. The wolf acknowledged their need for self-control, especially when Reaper faced more peril than he could handle.
Come, Failinis.
Failinis surged to the forefront. The wolf’s form shimmered into being, capturing the world with eyes that saw not just shapes and shadows but the pulse of life in its most vibrant hues. In this form, the world stretched wide and infinite, each scent told a story, and every sound was a song filled with the Tír na nÓg’s secrets.
Cian, tethered to Failinis within the mental cage room, absorbed the sensations through his wolf’s senses.
Failinis quivered,his muscles poised for action, before he bolted forward. He bounded over rocks and the river, eager to run and to play.
Behind him, Diarmuid’s wolf yipped. Failinis met him with his tail flying high, reminding him who led and who followed. The interplay between the two wolves was fluid, a game of strength and agility, each daring the other to push further, run faster. Diarmuid’s black-furred wolf matched Failinis’s rhythm effortlessly, their challenge fierce and friendly.
In the rush of movement, Cian felt the world expand as though he’d glimpsed a happy-ever-after in the distance, just waiting to be captured and claimed. His perception danced with Failinis’s heartbeat, a connection deeper than thought, and stronger than magic. It was instinct, and joy, and his wish was for it never to end.
Oisín appeared on the path ahead, clad in war-torn armor, astride his white horse. His presence crackled with power, a beacon amidst the shadows of twilight, the horse’s hooves thunderous upon the earth.
Failinis adjusted his course, anticipation mirrored by Diarmuid’s wolf. Both slowed, acknowledging the son of their Rí, as Oisín reined his steed around and headed to run the patrol of their borders.
19
SOMEWHERE OVER SOUTH SUDAN
The roarof the Blackhawk’s engines was a familiar noise, a backdrop to the military precision unfolding around Reaper. He tightened straps and checked his gear. His fingers worked deftly, muscle memory guiding each action as his mind prepared for the impending mission.
Despite the noise and everything going on around him, his thoughts strayed to Cian, more than they should have but less than he wanted to. He steadied himself, as Trace had taught him, and closed his eyes briefly, focusing on the connection that pulsed beneath his skin like a heartbeat. He let the warmth of what they shared bloom and pulse, and he sent a wave of feelings toward Cian, along with a silent apology for the argument he caused and the feelings he hadn’t worked up the courage to give words to just yet.
For a heartbeat, he felt the echo rush back toward him, and Cian’s presence wrapped around him with the steadiness of an anchor, and a warmth that was a blend of raw strength and understanding. It was a grounding force, undulating beneath the surface, a reminder of home amidst the cold bitch that was war.
Reaper inhaled deeply, absorbing that response, letting it seep into his bones, into the cracks and crevices left by years of war fighting and the weight of what living with the results of Derek’s actions had caused.
“You’re daydreaming,” Zero whispered.
Duty calls.
His hand slipped to the underside of his weapon, his thumb going to the safety, just to ensure it hadn’t jostled free since he’d checked it a few minutes ago. “I’m just resting my eyes.” With deliberate intent, he pushed the bond down and dampened its blaze until the ember dimmed to barely a flicker in his heart.
“Ready for insertion,” Viper called over the rumble of engines.
