Chapter 16 #2
Reaper exhaled sharply. “This is what we do. When our country and our commander calls, we answer. Just like when the Dord Fiann or Fionn calls, you answer.”
“Hm.”
“We’ll be home soon. I swear.”
Cian turned, crowding into his space. “And if you are not?”
Reaper’s jaw flexed. “Then we’ll deal with it.”
“Deal with it?”
Failinis, pacing and furious in his skull, snarled.
Cian’s fingers curled into fists. “I am your Grá Croí. My place is at your side. Not here. Not waiting at home like the fisherman’s wife.”
“And my place is with my team.” Reaper’s eyes darkened. “You know this.”
“I know nothing.” The admission burned him from the depths of his soul.
“I know only that you are mine. That I would follow you into battle, into fire, into anything. But this?” He gestured wildly at the helicopter, at the men filing toward it—Viper, Juice, Zero, and Kaze.
Only Trace and Ward remained close enough to hear their conversation.
“This is you going to war without the protection of your Grá Croí at your side.”
Reaper’s nostrils flared. “I know. But I swear I will be back.”
“And if you are not?”
“Then you come after me.” Reaper’s voice was a growl, low and raw. “But you can’t shift here. You can’t hunt here. You can’t—”
“I can protect you.” The words tore free, desperate. “That is all I want to do. All I am now is your protector. But you tie my hands. You cage my wolf. You ask me to stand aside while you walk into danger without me.”
Reaper’s fingers twitched, like he wanted to reach out, but stopped himself. “It’s not like that.”
“It is exactly like that.” his chest heaved. Failinis was a storm inside him, howling. “You are my heart. My soul. And you leave me behind like a child told to wait for you to come home.”
Reaper’s eyes flashed. “I’m not leaving you. I’m doing my job.”
“Your job?” Cian’s laugh was bitter. “Your job is to stand beside men who are not your kin. Who do not carry your heart in their chest. Who do not—”
“Enough.” Reaper’s voice cracked like a whip.
He stepped in, close enough that Cian could feel the heat of him, smell the sharp tang of his anger.
“You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t feel it every damn time I look at you?
But this—” He gestured sharply at the helicopter.
“This is what I do. This is who I am. And if you can’t handle that, then maybe you shouldn’t be here at all. ”
The words struck like a blade. Cian recoiled. “You would send me away?”
Reaper’s breath came fast. “I’m saying you have to trust me.”
“Trust you?” Cian’s voice broke. “I do not even know what that means in this world. I do not know the rules. I do not know the dangers. I only know that you are walking into them without me, and it is wrong.”
Reaper’s hands clenched. “Then learn.”
“Learn?” Cian’s laugh was hollow. “You ask me to learn patience when every instinct I have screams to follow you. To guard you. To—”
“Stop.” Reaper’s voice was raw. “Just—stop.” He dragged a hand through his hair, frustration bleeding off him in waves. “I can’t do this right now. I have to go.”
Cian’s stomach twisted. “And I must stay.”
Reaper’s jaw worked. “Yes.”
Failinis snarled, a sound that tore up Cian’s throat before he could stop it. Reaper’s eyes widened—just for a second—before he shut it down, his face going carefully blank. “We’ll be back. Lock up when we’re gone.”
Cian wanted to grab him. To shake him. To force him to see. But his Grá Croí was already turning away, striding toward the others, his boots eating up the distance between them.
Trace stopped beside him, his voice low. “The hardest thing you will ever do, brother, is send the one who owns your heart to war without you.”
Cian’s nails bit into his palms. This was harder than anything he’d ever done. He nodded to Trace but kept his mouth shut in case a howl escaped.
It would never do to scare the humans in the metal bird.
Ward appeared at his side a moment after Trace started toward the helicopter. He stayed silent for a long moment before he spoke. “He’s not trying to hurt you.”
Cian didn’t take his eyes off Reaper. “It does not matter what he tries to do. It only matters what he does.”
Ward sighed. “This… It’s like Fionn calling for you, and you not allowing him to go.”
“He is my Grá—”
“I know, I know,” Ward interrupted. “But you forget, warrior, you are also his Grá Croí, and as a Wolf Walker, his first instinct is going to be to keep you safe, too.”
Shite. He is right.
Guilt swamped him as he watched the helicopter’s engines roar to life, the noise a physical force, as it turned into a beast snarling at the sky.
Failinis howled inside his skull, a sound of fury and grief, and Cian let him. Let the rage burn through his veins, let the helplessness coil in his gut. He watched until the helicopter was a speck, then a memory, then it was gone.
Ward’s hand landed on his shoulder. “Breathe.”
Cian didn’t want to breathe. He wanted to run. To hunt. To tear something apart. But there was nothing left to destroy.
“I need to shift. Do you want to come to Tír na nóg with me?”
Ward’s eyes widened before a smile crossed his face. “Let me leave a note on our bed for Viper, grab some stuff, and let’s do it.”
“I will be here.” Once Ward had disappeared, Cian turned his face to the sky. “Be safe, Grá Croí of mine. You carry my heart with you.”