Maverick
Present Day
“What is it?” Delilah’s shoulders immediately tense, her anxiety palpable.
“Come on.”
I ignore my instinct to reach for her hand and force my hands into my pockets instead, walking back toward my tent. Delilah falls in step beside me, picking at her cuticles, something I noticed she does when she’s nervous.
We make it back to my tent, and I light the lantern by the bed which bathes the small space in a warm light.
I gesture for her to take a seat on the bed and grab my laptop off the desk, noticing a folded sheet of paper in the corner with the name Elizabeth written in dainty letters. “You wrote your mom a letter?” I ask.
She looks up at me in surprise. “Oh, yeah.” She bites her lip, another nervous habit. “Do you still think you’ll be able to get it to her?”
I give her a solemn nod. “We’ll try our best.”
She smiles weakly as I sit next to her on the bed. “Thank you.”
I open the laptop and connect to the internet through the portable Wi-Fi device, searching Gabriel’s name.
Thousands of results pop up, from news articles to podcasts analyzing the video in its entirety, but I want the original video that was broadcast straight from the source.
After they took over, the Brotherhood’s social media presence dwindled to practically nonexistent, which is why this video is making such huge waves across the globe.
“Maverick?” Her voice shakes. “What is this?”
I click on the video and angle the screen toward her, watching her as Gabriel’s voice fills the tent. Zeus growls at the sound from his spot at my feet, like he somehow knows the owner of the voice is a royal prick. I resist the urge to tell him what a good boy he is.
Delilah’s hand comes up to cover her mouth in shock, countless expressions flitting across her face in rapid succession.
Shock, concern, confusion, until eventually, the one that seems to stick is anger.
Her brows pull down and her gaze hardens, and I can tell she’s biting her tongue.
I barely even hear what Gabriel is saying, and I don’t have to. It’s all bullshit, anyway.
Finally, the video ends, and Delilah stares at the screen for several seconds in silence.
“When did this air?” she asks, still staring at the black screen.
“Yesterday,” I say, watching her.
She looks over at me. “But he’s lying.”
I huff a pathetic laugh. “That’s what the Brotherhood does best.”
She ignores my comment. “You’re not dangerous.”
“To New Athens I am.” I shrug. “If I could, I would dismantle everything they’ve built tomorrow. Nothing would give me more pleasure than watching the Brotherhood and everything they stand for burn to the ground.”
She stares at me, concern marring her brow. The question is, though: who is she concerned for?
“Why?”
“No one should be forced to live a certain way. The Brotherhood has lied and cheated and forced their way into power, eliminating anyone who sees things differently. By removing the right to choose, they’ve stripped away everything that makes people unique, instead creating men whose only motivation is power and women who obey mindlessly. ”
Her lips pull tight and she nods, and I instantly regret my choice of words. “It’s been a long day. I should probably get some rest.”
Fuck. “I didn’t mean—”
She cuts me off. “Yes you did.”
I forge ahead, hoping what I’m about to say doesn’t offend her further.
“You were a child. A literal child, and they took you away from everything you knew. They killed your father and stole your family and taught you that submission is love, then married you off at fucking fifteen to a man eight years your senior. You are a victim of the system just as much as the next woman, and it pisses me off to see you hurting because of them. Because of him.”
Her face remains stoic. “I was perfectly content until you came along and did the exact same thing you’re accusing them of doing.”
“Why are you defending them?” My voice raises involuntarily, and she flinches. Goddammit.
She looks down at her lap, where Zeus tentatively rests his head. Surprisingly, she doesn’t recoil. Instead, she reaches out and pats his head a few times. “You don’t know me.”
I take a deep breath. “I know that you continually shrink yourself down to appease your husband’s ego.
I know that you’re smart and thoughtful and the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
I know that you’re finally waking up and learning what it means to make your own choices and that you’re probably scared. ”
Her eyes—now flooded with tears—find mine. “Of course I’m scared! I’m terrified of letting myself process everything that’s happened in the last twelve years because I know when I do, it will break me.” A breathless sob stutters past her lips. “It will break me, Maverick. I’m not strong enough.”
I wrap my arms around her shoulders, pulling her into my body as she starts to cry. With my chin resting on the top of her head, I speak low and slow. “You are strong, darlin’. You’re the strongest woman I know.”
“I’m not,” she cries. “I can’t do it.”
I pull away, my hands resting on her shoulders as she looks up at me with puffy eyes. “You can. And even if you break, we’ll be there to help you pick up the pieces.”
She nods weakly. “Do you promise?”
Fuck, this woman does something to me. “I promise.” I wipe a tear off her cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Her eyes close briefly and she takes a deep breath. “He’s not gonna stop. He’ll come for me.”
I fail to hold in my scoff. “Let him try.”
“Maverick,” she pleads. “He won’t stop. Gabriel doesn’t do failure.”
I tuck a stray curl behind her ear. “You’re safe here, okay? I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”
“I’m putting everyone here in danger. Maybe we could arrange for some kind of trade. Me for something equally valuable to your cause.”
“Jesus Christ.” I stand, my blood running hot in my veins. “You’re not a fucking bartering chip. Nothing they could offer me would be worth it to send you back to that hellscape.”
She shakes her head. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
I laugh dryly. “Just because you can’t see your own value doesn’t mean I don’t.”
Her mouth opens and closes several times, apparently unable to come up with a dignified response. “We can talk about this later.”
“Sure, darlin’.” I smirk. “But my answer won’t change.”
She crosses her arms, the freckles on her nose scrunching together slightly. “Goodnight, Mr. Stetson.”
This woman, I think as my smile grows. “Goodnight, Mrs. Sinclair.”
I leave the tent, ignoring the voice in my head that says she won’t change her mind. She would sacrifice her happiness for the safety of everyone here without a second thought. Not because it’s what she’s been raised to do, but because she’s selfless.
I lie down on my bedroll and stare up at the stars, Zeus snuggling into my side as an idea takes root in my brain. I would never willingly send Delilah back to New Athens, but maybe I can help prepare her if that ever does happen.
???
“Rise and shine, darlin’.” I walk into my tent to find Delilah looking adorable curled up on my pillow on her side.
I smile as I watch her, imagining what it would be like to be in bed next to her.
I’d wrap my arm around her torso and pull her back into my chest. I bet her curves would fit perfectly against me.
I exhale roughly, forcing myself to stay focused.
She groans and stretches, eyelids fluttering open. Once her gaze lands on me, a mask slips into place. “Good morning.”
My eyes narrow, wondering where the shift in her attitude came from. “Come on.”
“Of course, sir.” She gets out of bed and slips her shoes and my borrowed flannel on, keeping her eyes downcast.
“You’re not curious where we’re going?” I ask, crossing my arms.
“It’s not my place to question you.”
Ah. She’s regressing. I clench my jaw and jerk my head for her to follow me, ignoring how much her subservience gets under my skin.
I walk through the camp until we get to a clearing where I’ve set up a small training area, Delilah silent behind me.
“If you insist on returning to New Athens, you’re at least gonna learn how to defend yourself. ”
She must sense the irritation in my tone—it’s impossible to miss, really—because she finally looks up with wide eyes. “What would I possibly need to defend myself against?” Her voice is sickly sweet.
I glare at her. “Don’t bullshit me.”
She smiles and bats her eyelashes. “Whatever do you mean, sir?”
I practically growl. “Fists up. Let me see you throw a punch.” I hold out my flattened palm for her to target.
She does as she’s told, hitting my hand with her closed fist with barely any force and absolutely no fervor.
I grab her fist. “Not like that. You’ll break your thumb.” I reposition her fingers so her thumb is on the outside of her fist. “Again.”
She bites the inside of her cheek, probably holding back some smart-ass quip. She punches my hand again, a little more forcefully this time. Even so, it would do absolutely nothing against a real assailant.
I move to stand behind her. I wrap my hands around her waist and lean down to speak in her ear.
“Tighten your core. All the power comes from here.” Closing my hand around her fist, I pull her arm back, showing her the correct form.
“Rotate your torso as you swing your arm, letting your fist become an extension of your body.”
She shivers against me, taking a shaky breath.
“Again.” I get back into position, a challenge in my eyes as a war takes place behind her own—a war between the woman she was raised to be and the woman we both know she is.
Ultimately, the fire I saw the first time we met blazes deep within her gaze, and she sets her jaw.
Fist cocked and feet planted firmly, Delilah punches my palm once more.
A proud smile stretches across my face as I shake my hand out. “Better.”
She bites her lip and looks down, hiding her own smile.