Page 234 of Reaper Said Mine

Because you did.

Because you did not.

Because love is not supposed to feel like getting cut by the same knife from both sides.

I look at the broadcast still looping on one of the smaller screens. Theryki beside him. Coalition seal behind him. The protectorate agreement displayed like salvation. Every enemy getting a fresh argument from the one choice he believed he had to make.

“I don’t know,” I say.

The honesty shocks both of us.

Gnash’s image flickers, the relay struggling through military traffic and storm interference.

“I am still the same man,” he says.

I look back at him.

“Are you?”

His eyes darken.

Regret pierces me almost immediately, but I cannot pull the question back. It is out now, brutal and naked between us.

He absorbs it without flinching. That might be worse than if he had roared.

“I hope not,” he says.

My breath catches.

His voice roughens. “The man you first met would have chased every attacker into the dark and called the dead proof of courage. He would have let outer holds burn before admitting he needed ships from diplomats. He would have wrapped revenge around every wound until nothing living could breathe beneath it. So no, little reporter. I am not the same man. I am trying, with very poor grace, to become something better while my enemies shoot at my children.”

Tears sting my eyes.

I hate the timing.

I hate the room.

I hate that I cannot touch him.

Bellamy’s posture changes near the wall, his back still turned but his shoulders tense with sympathy he knows better than to offer aloud.

I swallow hard. “And what if becoming something better gives the Coalition everything it wanted?”

“Then I will deal with that after my civilians are out of range.”

“And if the Alliance attacks before that?”

His gaze steadies. “Then I will hold.”

“For how long?”

“As long as I can.”

That answer is not enough.

It is also all he has.

The truth of that presses against my ribs until breathing hurts.