Chapter Thirty-Nine
Kylo
Now that Lia’s asleep, I slip out of bed and close the door behind me. The night air wraps around me, heavy with regret. My mind won’t shut off. Not after everything that happened today.
I fucked up. Not only did I lose my sister to the enemy, but Lia lost her brother to the grave. I wasn’t there when she needed me.
Rain pelts the sidewalk and glints beneath the one working light overhead.
“Can’t sleep?” Carter leans against his doorframe, as if he’s been waiting for me to emerge. He pulls out a cigarette and sparks his lighter. The orange glow illuminates the sharp lines of his face before smoke coils into the humid air.
“I thought you quit.”
“I did.”
“Smells like shit.”
“I know.” He puffs out a slow cloud of smoke. “How is she?”
“As expected.”
Lia’s empathy has only gotten stronger and more volatile. When she saw Leo lying there, I felt her break. Something in me disintegrated along with her. The sound of her sobs will haunt me.
“How are you holding up?”
I’ve never been good at this part.
When our parents were murdered, I chose to train. When Blair was taken, I trained harder.
My fists itch for something to hit.
“How do you think I’m doing?” I grind my jaw until it aches. “Blair tried to kill us. Lia watched her brother die. I was fucking useless today.”
Carter takes a long drag and then exhales. His expression stays unreadable behind the veil of smoke. “We lost people today, but Joaquin is dead. The Aether Hunters lost their leader. That’s a big fucking win. Now we wipe Draven and the rest of them off the chessboard.”
The mission. Right. The damn mission.
How am I supposed to focus on tactical maneuvers when Lia’s entire world cracked in half?
I shove my hands into my pockets and lean back against the brick wall, one foot braced against it. My head tilts toward the dark sky, rain mixing with the steam of my breath.
“She needs time,” I tell him.
When Blair was taken, I spent weeks in isolation, training myself into the ground before I could function again.
“I hear you, but you’re thinking like a man in love. Not a man on a mission.”
“Have you always been this ruthless?”
“With war comes death,” he replies flatly, flicking the cigarette butt and grinding it into the wet pavement beneath his boot. “You love her, don’t you?”
I meet his eyes but say nothing, my truth tangled in silence.
He gives a short nod and opens his door. “Thought so.”
Without looking back, he clicks it shut behind him.
I’m left with the downpour and a woman inside who’s claimed parts of me I’m not ready to admit are hers.