Page 125 of Scarlet Wars
“You okay?” she asked, as her tone carried that brittle edge she tried to pretend wasn’t there.
I wanted to vent. I needed to vent. To unload everything clawing at me from the inside out. To tell her how the walls felt like they were closing in and how every conversation today had scraped another layer of skin off me.
But her face was drawn tight, stress pinning her mouth into a thin, exhausted line, and the dark circles under her eyes told me everything her words didn’t.
So instead, my brows formed a frown that wasn’t nearly as worried as I felt and said, “I am. Are you?”
She nodded quickly, almost mechanically. “Yeah. Just drowning in work. Our Leader, Charles Bailor, isn’t exactly a fan of doing his actual job, so being First Offensive at Crown is basically two full-time careers wrapped into one. Without the credit. Obviously.”
I snorted. “Obviously.”
“So what’s up, Thompson?” she asked, trying for casual, but I could hear the strain bending her words.
Crap. Saoirse could’ve been my lifeline—usually was—but right now she was barely keeping her own head above water. Clearly, every second of her life was being swallowed by her new role, and I couldn’t pile my mess on top of hers, not when she was already buckling under the weight.
“Nothing much,” I said lightly, smoothing the lie with a practiced ease. “Just missing you.”
Her smile was tired but soft, and it made something ache in my chest. “Right back at you, my love. We’ll nex later, yeah?”
I nodded, letting the connection break, even though part of me wanted to hold on just a little longer.
Jackson, against all odds, simply didn’t answer my nex. I had a pretty good idea why, since me being furious with Sean, and him and Sean being whatever the hell they were, shoved him into an impossible position. I couldn’t even hold it against him.
Which left me circling like a storm without a center, restless until I realized there was one person I could turn to.
Someone who could also help me figure out this whole presidential warrant-thing.
Someone I had never thought I’d willingly reach out to.
Rachel.
I found her in her study, the scent of ink and old paper lingering in the quiet air. Afternoon light streamed through the tall window, casting long shadows over the shelves lined with maps, books, and half-burned candles. She was hunched over her desk, pencil in hand, sketching something into the corner of a worn ledger.
I hesitated in the doorway, then softly knocked on the frame. “Rachel.”
She looked up, her expression softening. “What’s up?”
I stepped into the room and ignored the floorboards creaking beneath my boots. “Do you have a second?”
“Of course.” She smiled, warm and open. “I’m only journaling. What’s on your mind?”
Stop fidgeting, Thompson.
“I, uhm…” I cleared my throat, hating how small the sound felt in the room. Jesus. I could fight off Radicals, torture and kill humans without breaking a sweat—but reaching out to someone, trying to make friends? I clammed up faster than a teenager whose mom just found his internet search history.
“I wanted to…apologize again. For what happened when those US soldiers came here to arrest me.” I flexed my hand. “And I wanted to thank you; for making sure they couldn’t.”
Rachel’s smile was quick, and warm, but not careless; it carried the weight of a woman who knew exactly what she stood for. “Great Exposure or not,” she said, her tone firm but not unkind, “when people threaten anyone granted stay under my roof, I will defend it—and them—with the full force entrusted to me.”
Damn it. That woman was all kinds of awesome.
I gave a sharp little nod. “Well, I’m grateful. Really. And I… I wanted to talk to you about something else.”
Her brow arched, curious, and she leaned back in her chair, the leather creaking faintly as she motioned for me to sit in the one opposite her.
I eased into the seat, sinking into soft leather that felt far too comfortable for how tense I suddenly was. My pulse was thudding in my ears, but I forced myself to speak. “Do you remember those first moments when the US military crossed the Canadian border?”
Rachel’s frown deepened. “You mean when I came to warn you and Caden?”
