Page 98 of Echoes of War

Around us, the forest came alive, responding to my influx of emotions. “When I get my hands on you, you traitorous bastard, you’re going to wish Amaia was the one to find you first.” I was screaming, my threat slicing through the air at the same time as my magic.

Trees slammed them to the ground as I passed them in my rage. The thuds added to the rumble beneath our feet, the cries of survivors trickled in. I slowed, not wanting to injure them anymore than they already were.

“Get healers out here for our people. Find any Covert survivors out there. Don’t be gentle about it,” I said.

“Yes, sir,” one of my men confirmed. “Where do you want us to put them?”

I took a deep breath, willing my magic back under total control. “There is nothem. There is one. I only need one person to question, kill the rest. Seth Moore is mine if you find him.”

Seth Moore would not die by my hands today. No way he’d get off that easy. Instead, he would be a gift for my sister upon her return.Hewould have to tell her what was done to Prescott; that wasn’t on me, that was on him. I’d done what I could to protect this place and would die doing whatever I needed to in order to protect her home.

Amaia had lost two of the most important people to her in less than a year, and I hadn’t been able to stop the one that would destroy her the most. Jax’s death was a blow to us all, but Prescott would be the stick that broke the dam. She had every right to turnher back on me when she found out. It would devastate me to no end, but I would understand.

“Help,” a throaty voice called off to the side. “Please, help us.”

I pulled my gun, removing the safety, finger on the trigger as I approached a large shadow and three smaller ones behind the brush. A man stared down the barrel of my gun, a look of fear on his weathered, tan face. Not of me, but for the small child he was pumping life into beneath him.

Another child sat in a fetal position, thumb in their mouth as their lip quivered at the sight of the man and little girl on the ground. The older one with wild blonde hair matted around their head stood, their own gun staring back at me. They stood firm, a menacing glare in their eyes that shot between me and those on the ground.

I moved my gun toward the child, though everything in my gut told it was wrong. You don’t hurt children—children are off limits, even in times of war. And that’s what they were, a child. Not a teenager, but a small frame that couldn’t have been older than ten.

My hand beat against the side of my head, my locs slapping me in the face with the movement. Maybe I was hallucinating. The shock of Prescott and desperation for justice had sent me into a spiral.

It could be a trick. At this rate, I wouldn’t put it past Covert Province to use children as bait.

“Emma …” the man said in between pumps. “Put it down, we need his help.”

“Why should I help you?” I spat, searching for a sign of Covert Province on their clothing and belongings, still keeping an eye on the girl in front of me.

“My name is Halden. These are my girls, Emma and Olivia. This … this is Mason. We were on our way to see one of your people when the fighting broke out,” he didn’t tear his gaze from the lifeless body beneath his palms.

The girl, Emma, lowered her weapon. Her head tilted to examine me, “This was supposed to be safe. My mom sent her here because it was supposed to be safe!”

“Coming to see who? Who sent who here?”

She raised her gun back at my head, shooting eye narrowing, “He’s fucking worthless dad. He won’t know who Auntie Moe is. He’s gonna tell others we’re here to kill us too.”

My arms fell to my side, for the second time tonight, I found myself speechless. “Tomoe is my friend, and help is on the way.”

Amaia

Iwas tired of death but more than anything, I was tired of saying goodbye to those lost too soon. It was my turn to keep watch. Instead of watching out on the horizon at the sun slowly rising outside the cave we rested in, I watched him.

The smooth, tan skin of his chiseled jawline leading up to the exquisite contour and perfect frame for his full, inviting lips that seemed to be molded by whatever gods watched from above. I traced the line of slight stubble on his jawline from weeks without a razor that suited his classical features up to his straight pointed nose.

Alexiares’ eyes fluttered from whatever dream carried him in his deep slumber. Dark brown hair cascaded in gentle waves, partially framing his face. I brushed it back, wanting to steal a glance at the intricate tattoos that extended from the nape of his neckonto the sides of his head. His lips pulled into a soft smile at my touch.

The movement stirred him from his dream, brows furrowed, his eyes flickered open. I waited for him to pull back, the gentle touch between us oddly unnatural now that we were all in. A good portion of the time we spent together had been touched by violence and anger.

Even in our more vulnerable moments, there was this sort of tension between us, where our walls were still up ever so slightly. There had been comfort in each other’s presence, yet true tenderness had gone somewhat unexplored. He studied me like he was staring into my soul. Alexiares reached up, his hand covered mine bringing it down to his mouth, kissing it before resting it on his chin.

My feelings for him hit me harder than a tidal wave. There was no confusing this with anything other than what it was. I could deny it all I wanted, but he had seen right through it. There had been no mistake in the words he’d chosen to tell me; no, Alexiares had been extremely clear. Love. He was falling in love with me, and if I was completely honest with myself, I was falling in love with him too.

I wasn’t sure when it had happened. The desire to hate him had faded in St. Cloud, sure. And maybe when we’d spent time together in Duluth, I had been open to the possibility of finding companionship in the future. I’d even told him as much right before we arrived, but I hadn’t thought of it as a foreseeable part of our future.

Alexiares and I made no sense. We both possessed an all-consuming fiery rage that, realistically, was dangerous as fuck to harness within an emotion as powerful as love. I did not fear us burning out. That wasn’t what happened when you put fire with fire. I was scared that if we channeled those emotions toward each other,we would watch the world burn around us in favor of keeping the other safe.

That couldn’t happen. I had other people to protect. Prescott and Riley were counting on me to put myself last and The Compound first. The people of The Compound, Salem Territory, The Expanse … Duluth, they all commanded my utmost focus. But when I was around Alexiares, all I wanted to do was focus on him. Alexiares had told me that I made him feel alive, that life was worth living. The funny thing was, he made me remember why I loved being alive.

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