Page 49 of Killian
“Oh, it’s me,” said Moira, disengaging from Cynog’s hug.
“Yes, it’s you?” Cynog looked confused.
“Sorry, that was an inside thought that I said out loud,” said Moira.
“You do it too?” whispered Cynog, which made Moira laugh.
“Sometimes,” she admitted.
“What did you learn?” asked Killian as she approached. “Do they really have explosives?” He was holding himself stiffly as if bracing for impact.
“Yes, unfortunately, they do. They haven’t drilled into the tree yet, but they have some axes and other items set out. I think theyare fully prepared to carry out their threats.”
Killian growled angrily and Moira felt relieved at his display of emotion and the fact that he was talking to her. She took a step closer and lowered her voice. “We should talk,” she said and his brown eyes turned toward her, intense and searching. “That didn’t go well. We... I can do better.”
“Wecan do better,” he said, an awkward smile twisting on his lips. “I didn’t choose my words very carefully.”
She wanted that to be an apology, but it wasn’t even a retraction. More of an admission of bad diplomacy. Her first instinct was to stomp her feet and be angry all over again.
“I felt attacked,” she said. “I was trying to tell you how I felt, and you attacked me.”
“Yes, I felt the same,” he said, glaring at her. “And what about our children?”
“We have children?” gasped Moira, shocked. Had she forgotten her own kids?
“No. Uh. I don’t think so? I meant future children.”
“Jesus Christ on a Christmas tree! Don’t scare me like that!” She clutched at his shoulder and her chest as her heart tried to start an entire rhythm section.
“I don’t think he goes on a Christmas tree? I meant is getting kicked out of the pack something our kids are going to have to worry about? Because I cannot and will not do that. I didn’t mean to attack you or your family, but I’m having a lot of trouble with the idea that I’m aligned with a pack that would do that.”
Moira opened her mouth to refute the idea that they werethatkind of pack. Her pack were the good guys. She was sure of it. Except...
“Mama, why are you crying?”
Her mother looked up, startled from the cell phone in her hand and swiped at her eyes. “It’s nothing, baby. Nothing.”
“Mama,” said Moira, her hand twisting on the door knob. “Mama,you’re crying.”
Her mother looked down at the cellphone and then with a grim sort of set to her face she picked it up and took a picture of Moira. Then she tapped a few buttons on the phone.
“Mama, did you just send my picture to somebody?”
“I sent it to your uncle,” said her mother standing up.
“Which one?” asked Moira. All of the older pack members were aunts and uncles, but she couldn’t think of one that her mother would send a photo to.
“Uncle Rafe.”
“I don’t have an Uncle Rafe.”
“Yes, you do!” bellowed her mother. Then she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You remember that, do you hear me? You remember that you have an Uncle Rafe and he didn’t do anything wrong.”
Moira tried to shake off the memory. It was easier to deny that any hurt had been caused without her own memories arguing with her.
“I don’t know what happened,” said Moira, slowly. “I know my mom cried about it. And I know she kept talking to him even after he left.”
“That’s not supposed to happen,” said Killian, frowning. “If you’re out, no one speaks to you.”
