35. The Protector
Chapter thirty-five
The Protector
Sammy
H er words shred what’s left of my restraint, and I charge at her, unsure of what the hell I even plan on doing, and cognizant that I am probably going to scare her. All I know is that I believe what is happening right now, that her words and version of what transpired are real. She never stopped trying to get to me, and she has suffered so much because of it. She releases a high-pitched squeak as my arms launch around her, crushing her body to mine, in an embrace so tight I can feel her heart hammering in her chest against mine. Every inch of our bodies that are in contact feels like total bliss. Her scent of amber, smoke, and bergamot fills my nostrils, making my head spin rapidly. I can’t bring myself to release her, or even loosen my hold, for fear that she will once again disappear, and I will wake up trapped and alone.
“Sammy!” My name moaned on her lips, has so many emotions rising within me. It’s like being on the very edge of an angry vast ocean. The waves keep rising higher and higher, and you know sooner or later, they are going to crash down on you and drown you. At first, you’re deceived, thinking you can escape in time from under their violence, but as they build, one after the another, intense, relentless, and powerful, all of your sadness, rage, frustration, and even joy crashes over you, pulling you under, and making it impossible to breathe. Your life flashes before your eyes as you struggle to stay afloat, knowing that you are being consumed by that angry tide. The waves crash against you and drag you in every direction, knocking the air and the very sanity out of you, and no matter how hard you try, your feet can’t find solid ground, and your body is tired of swimming. The vastness and nothingness calls to you. It taunts you with the impossibility of escape. That is what life without Dinah felt like, when I thought she had forsaken me, and discarded me to die at Noah’s hands. This one moment doesn’t solve all our problems, but I feel it chipping away at the heavy armor I have encased my heart in.
I pull back, holding her arms as if I fear that, at any moment, she will turn into a wisp of smoke and disappear. Her beautiful blue-gray eyes shine brightly with tears that are set to release, matching the ones already sliding down her face. She never breaks the connection, her gaze focused on mine, as if she, too, fears that this may all be fleeting. “Real?” I question, with my heart hammering in my chest. Her hands rise timidly towards my face, her thumbs stroking gently underneath my eyes, and wiping moisture I didn’t even realize was there. “Real, Sammy. This is real.”
I shake my head with regret, knowing that it’s best if we get all of her story out, even though everything within me no longer wants to hear of her suffering. “Tell me the rest, Nightstar.” Her breath hitches at my nickname, and her lips fall into a comical ‘O’ . I lay my lips on the top of her head, right into her silky, dark strands that I missed so much. I feel her shudder against me, and it pulls the first genuine smile I have had, since this whole mess started. Mine. This woman is mine, has always been, and will always be mine. I had forgotten what it felt like just to be surrounded by her warmth, and my guilt crashes into me, with all the harm I have already caused her. “Nightstar, I... I don’t even know what to say. Fuck, I tried... to... kill you... how the hell can you even stand to look at me?”
Self-loathing flows through me, invading every crevice of my being, and I replay all the images of me hurting her, like a rushed scene out from one of the forbidden thriller movies she liked to watch. I did that. I hurt her. I tried to kill her. I am so unworthy of her touch, of her very love, after I turned on her like an abused beast. A hoarse sound chokes me, and as I pull away from her, I realize it’s the sound of my fragile heart breaking once more. “No! Fuck, no, Samuel Wendover! You do not get to sprinkle your love, give me hope, and then pull it away again. I am not a damn fucking yo-yo.” What the fuck is a yo-yo? I have no idea what she’s referencing, but her fury is a living, breathing thing. Her eyes glow with an unholy light, and I am taken aback, and actually a little afraid. She grabs onto my shirt and yanks me back to her, the material fisted tightly between her fingers. “I will finish my story, but listen to me very clearly, Sammy. If, when I do, you try to turn from me, that’s it. We. Are. Done. I can’t continue to allow you to destroy me, along with yourself. I can understand your struggle, and I can be patient and try to help you work through everything that has occurred, but all I ask is that you not give up on me, on us.”
I desperately want to ask her again if this is real, and not my mind playing tricks on me, but I feel foolish, and I fear she’s going to think that I am insane. She must see something on my features that conveys my thoughts, because she releases her tight hold on my shirt and pats my chest, as if she hadn’t just lost her temper. Her fingers rise and stroke my chin, making the ratty beard itch, and I wish that I had begged Sarah for a razor, not that she would have given me one, in case I used it as a weapon. “This is real. You can feel me touching you. I am real. Ask as many times as you need to, so that you can reassure yourself that I am here with you.” I wrap my hands lower and bring them across her waist, and that’s when I feel the hard bulge at her lower back. She instantly stills, and her eyes widen as I lift the shirt, and pull the gun from the back of her pants. I draw back and stare at the black metal enclosed in my fingers. “Were you afraid I was going to hurt you again, Dinah?” A part of me can understand why she would be, and I can even reconcile myself with the fact that she deserves to be able to protect herself against me. My mind is a fractured, brutal place, and just because I’m alert to my surroundings now, doesn’t mean I always will be. That’s the part about enduring something like I have. It sneaks up on you when you least expect it, and turns your whole world around. “It’s okay, you can tell me,” I try to reassure her in a gentle voice. I want her to understand I am not angry, just sad.
“Yes. I didn’t know which version of you was going to be in here. I had hoped it was you, my Sammy, but I was prepared, just like you taught me, to be able to defend myself, in case it wasn’t.” Pride fills me that she was prepared. That she remembered the lessons I painstakingly tried to teach her. “ Good girl. “ I chuckle at the way she preens at my words, and her body loses some of its tension.
“Tell me the rest, Nightstar. Why did you kill the Holy Father?” All the time I have been confined here, no one has explained what the hell Dinah was doing, and why, when I entered a large hall filled with Brotherhood members. Everything about the situation seemed suspect to me, but since I couldn’t really determine reality from the lies Noah fed me, it was inconsequential, that is, until now. Now, I fear my girl has been manipulated, and wrapped herself in someone else’s ploy for power. “It all started with David, who had me come here to murder the Holy Father. It was the deed I had to perform for him, to save you and my nephew, who is still lost to us.” Ah fuck, I knew it. Whoever this David guy is didn’t force poison into her veins to make her cooperate, but it had the same effect. He used me as a carrot dangling before her, and she could no sooner refuse than allow me to perish, it seems.
“The man I killed was not the Holy Father, he was an imposter pretending to be. The real Holy Father is my father, Francis Camrose, who faked his death and took over the Holy Father’s position, without anyone but David’s knowledge. With the use of the constant mask to disguise his appearance, none were the wiser. It was all a test, to see if I could be loyal and controlled. I don’t think they ever truly intended to save you. They are unhinged and insane, wanting a revolution for the world, and willing to burn it down around us to achieve their goals.”
Shit, I need to confess to her that he came to me, that he tried to manipulate me too. “Nightstar.” My mouth opens and closes, the words refusing to leave at first. What if I imagined it all? What if he was never truly there, and I conjured him in my rage? No, wait, I had never seen Francis Camrose in the flesh. He was dead by the time Dinah came to me as my charge. Besides the few images she had in her possessions, we barely ever spoke of him. There is no way I would have been able to come up with such a vivid illusion of him in my mind, poison or not. “A man with your father’s face snuck in to speak with me, here in this mansion, not more than a day ago, when I was being held in that stockroom. He... ah fuck, Dinah, he asked me to kill Abe and Zeke. He told me I would get you back, and that I could do whatever I wanted to you. I told him that I would kill you, and he didn’t look concerned.”
Her face goes deathly pale, and she stumbles away from my embrace. I want to reach out and pull her back into my arms, but instead, I grip my pant legs at my sides to prevent reaching out and touching her, and bite down hard on my bottom lip, awaiting whatever her reaction is going to be. I’m so filled with guilt now that I even agreed to do anything that asshole wanted. I could try to blame it on my mental state, but that would be a cop-out. I knew perfectly well what I was agreeing to. I allowed rage and jealousy to possess me, much like the drugs did, and warp me into this monster that would willingly hurt her, based on her perceived abandonment. “Are you sure it was him?” She refuses to look at me, her forehead furrowing as if in pain. “Positive,” I respond, even though I fear she may end up walking away from me. She’s silent for a few moments, contemplating my words, and I wish I could see what was inside her mind.
Will she leave me now? Does she feel even more betrayed? I open my lips to beg her forgiveness, but before I can utter a single word, she releases a weary sigh. “They want me to appear before the masses. They want to push me as the face of this revolution, so I can be a target if it fails, and it will fail, Sammy. They don’t understand that the Brotherhood is not beaten yet, that they are just not going to release their grasp on power. So many are going to die, and they will do it in my name. I want no part in this war, and I don’t wish to be a martyr. All I wanted was my vengeance, and the three of you. I had one man left to kill, Noah Rothesay, and now I have at least two more to add to that list. When I am done, I want us to disappear. I will not be a puppet on anyone’s strings.”
Everything in me wants to tell her to forget her vengeance, that we should run now. I’d even stomach having to deal with those other two assholes, if it meant she would be safe, plus, I don’t trust myself with her, and at least if I lost my mind, they could kill me once and for all. “One more confession, Nightstar. I kind of asked Abe’s mother to ensure I died here in this mansion. I provided her with all the information I had observed while Noah’s prisoner, and in exchange, she guaranteed my death.”
If possible, her face pales even more, and has a tinge of green to it. “This is a fucking nightmare. We need to tell Zeke and Abe. I don’t trust Sarah at all. Something about her appearance as my hero is fishy to me. Both she and my father seem to want to push this mass insurgency agenda. That makes them dangerous. She’s working with the rebels, and he... fuck, I don’t even know, to be honest. It could be just him and David, for all I know.”
“Why couldn’t they both be working together? It seems like they have the same goals. Is that a possibility?” I question, my mind turning over both interactions with Francis Camrose, and Abe’s mother, Sarah. “I don’t know. Anything is possible at this point. Highly unlikely, since he played a part in her abuse, but it is still possible. I don’t know who to trust outside of the four of us, since it seems everyone is willing to betray everyone else.” It gladdens my heart to hear that she once again trusts me, and I will endeavor to do nothing to break that trust ever again. I finally have my Nightstar back, and although this fragile peace between us can be easily broken, I am going to do my best to ensure it never does. “Fuck, call in those two assholes, and I promise not to kill either of them.”
She turns towards the door, and right before she opens it, she turns back and stares at me over her shoulder, her dark hair pooling in long waves down her back. Some of the shadows that darkened her eyes have lifted, and although we are still in danger, she looks happier. I am too, if I am being honest. “I love you, Samuel Wendover. You are my home, and I can’t live without you.”