Tyrant

(𝟸𝟹) 𝙻𝚞𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚑𝚜

I can't leave the Base anymore.

Can't take part in my position.

Not after Weylin had informed Raeyan that my name and face have a generous reward stamped to them. Not after Riona, the woman we thought was one of us, had actually been sent to find and kill me.

So basically I'm trapped.

Repulsion at The One blazes deep down in my heart—the very heart he wishes to claim. To destroy.

Why?

Why the hell does he want me dead? I'm no one. Just another lonesome female living in The City. It makes no sense.

I'm no one. And that son of a bitch has just restricted my abilities at the Base.

"You okay?" Darcio's frail voice calls out, and I blink twice to have his drained, unusually pale face come into view. His white eyes hold concern and fatigue, and I look to his shirtless chest, to his left bicep—stiff and patched up in white gauze. As it had been since we returned and Raeyan had sent him to the Emergency Treatment room.

The sight of him in this state has my head pounding in slight fear and bitter nostalgia.

This situation is the same as Caspian's. The terrible day I had patched his arm up from that bullet wound.

Will all the people I care about eventually be hurt by The One's forces? By the few citizens he has wrapped around his filthy finger?

Am I endangering this Base because I am on a crazy, inexplicable hit list?

"Phoenix."

My eyes focus on Darcio's. "Yes. I'm alright. Just thinking." I run a weary hand over my face, binding away the thought of Caspian and The One for now.

The injured warrior stares, and though he hadn't once asked me to leave in the three hours I'd been seated by his cot, still in my dirty nightgown, he says, "You're exhausted. Go sleep."

"No. I'm not leaving."

"You need rest. You're just as tired as I am."

"I wasn't the one that took a damn bullet to save someone's life." Though my words are stern, heavy, endless gratitude simmers in my eyes—his own visibly soften, like snow melting under the sun.

I swallow, placing my hand over his own—his rings are like a cool mist under my fingers. "I don't believe I thanked you for that."

He doesn't smile, but not out of unkindness. "You don't need to."

"I do, though. So thank you, Darcio."

He averts his eyes, leaving my poor heart palpitating in confusion.

"Why do you do that."

A quick glance at me. "Do what?"

I remove my hands from atop his and place them in my lap, fingers clenching. "You shut me out. Like you suddenly realize that I'm not of any interest or worth any time, and you shut me out. Why."

His white, tired eyes go unusually wide. "Is that what you think?"

Yes. What else would I think when every time we've spoken recently, you turn away as if I'm nothing?

Why did you touch me like that in the toy shop only to ignore me later? To act like it didn't mean anything?

Because it means something. For me.

He takes my silence as confirmation, and moves his hand to gently grip my knee that rests inches from his cot. "It's not that at all." He looks at me this time, and I find myself getting lost in those white irises. "In fact, it's the complete opposite of that."