Chapter 30
JUDGE
The cold gnaws through my coat as I stand outside the cabin—one of Dominion’s safety houses scattered through our territories.
The place is small, smoke curling into the night sky.
It’s frequently stocked with dried meats, canned goods, and the basic baking essentials.
A portable antenna hums faintly by the door, powered by an old solar battery.
From here, my comm connects to the cameras.
The feed runs through satellites left over from before the bloom. Dominion’s tech crews, usually from military bases or someone unnaturally gifted for that kind of shit, have built walls of encryption around the signal.
I’m watching her without worry of anyone else seeing.
I hold a paper swan in my other hand, mindlessly turning it over.
It’s one I took from upstairs. I really doubt she’ll notice, since there’s about a fucking hundred of them.
Boone’s collar is the only thing I’ve ever taken of someone as a memento, and I’m already annoyed that the swan has lost most of Diana’s scent.
It doesn’t stop a smile from spreading across my face. On the comm screen, she’s making an origami rose out of paper she painted black.
A strange warmth pulses against the cold that’s settled in my bones. My breathing deepens, my brows furrowing when I realize she actually made a black rose.
My eyes drift to the black rose tattoo on the back of my hand, the one a glove conceals.
I had it inked many years ago as a reminder of a deal I struck with the Witch Doctor, a deal that has never been so heavy until now.
My only true ace in the hole if shit goes terribly wrong, and I fail to protect Diana.
I’ve felt her touch the marks on my skin before, tracing the scars, the tattoos, when she thinks I’m sleeping. She’s never asked about them. But seeing her make a black rose—my black rose—makes me look away.
She misses me.
My omega misses me.
The thought burns through me with equal parts pride and dread. Purpose floods in… and fear follows close behind.
That’s not good. I’m not built to operate while fear sits this close to my ribs. It dulls the edges, makes me far too human. Humans allow for error so those close to them die.
Confronting the white flag rider will be dangerous for new reasons, now. Any threat, intentional or otherwise, against an omega of mine will make me falter, even if just for a second. Because I have a face to picture now.
Covering it up will be my top priority.
I glance back down. All I want to do is tell her I know what she’s doing, to watch her face flood with heat, to see those soft brown eyes widen. Then I’d growl and make her smell of slick that’s mine, telling her to admit she misses me; perhaps she’d even finally purr for me.
If there’s so much as a hint that harm is coming her way, when I’m so close to claiming her heart, I will lose control.
I can’t afford to lose control.
The white flag rider came with hardly any issues, and I refused to invite him into the Iron Castle. With or without Diana, Titan doesn’t deserve that privilege. Letting him cross my walls would make me look eager, weak.
Instead, I sent him back with a message: Titan and I can meet, face to face, in a neutral territory with the same amount of men and no weapons.
If he wants to truly come to a truce, that can be discussed then.
And that I’d even be willing to bring an offering of peace no one has gotten from me, but none of his men are ever welcome inside my walls.
Hopefully, he’ll get the fucking message that I know he’s sent one of his own into my terrain. Which means I have control, and as long as that’s perceived, I have power.
The first thing I wanted to do was to get my cold ass back to the Iron Castle, so I demand we return home immediately. There will be no stops, rotating the drivers rather than resting. We can do that once we’re back in our own beds and pressed against the warm bodies we choose.
One thing is certain—I need to mark Diana as soon as I can.
There’s too many things in motion, and at any moment, if she catches wind of them, it could make her lose faith in me.
It’s not like I’m going to sit down and tell her the entirety of Dominion’s history, what the Scarlett Offering is, or any of that.
There’s nuance and context that takes years to understand.
No, she needs to feel I’m sincere.
The bond will provide that.