Page 97 of Requiem
Micah exhales slowly beside me. “We can work on it,” he says.
Rafe’s gaze sharpens. “If it can happen without warning, then we don’t have control. And if we don’t have control…” He lets the rest hang for a second before finishing, “Then you are a liability.”
The word makes me wince.
That motherfucker destroyed me in more ways than someone should be destroyed.
Emma’s head turns toward him. “He’s not—”
“Hecan be,” Rafe cuts in, not raising his voice, but not softening either. “And that distinction is theonlyone that matters right now. Counter-conditioning doesn’t just happen over night. He fucked with Jude. Bad. And it’s going to be a while before he’s whole again.” His gaze sweeps over me. “If he ever is.”
Silence stretches again.
Even though it hurts, I incline my chin. “I’m still going,” I say.
Rafe watches me for a long moment. “You think that’s the right call?” he asks.
I nod once. “Yeah.”
A beat passes. Then another.
“You saw what just happened.”
“I did.”
“And you still think you can walk into a room with him?”
I hold his gaze, not flinching this time. “Yes.”
Rafe’s expression doesn’t change much. “I don’t know if you can,” he says.
“I don’t give a single fuck.”
He sighs, almost thoughtful now.
“I've been doing okay,” I say quietly. “I haven’t had a lot of time to undo what he fucking did to me. But I’mtrying.”
He considers me, then his cold gaze darts to Emma. “Does her face still trigger you?”
I glance at her, and my body doesn’t react, thank fuck. I shake my head.
“It doesn’t trigger you in this moment, but it will. She knows that,” he continues.
She nods once.
“If you cantrulyget to the point where you see her as a safe place again,” he continues. “Then wemighthave a chance. But you’ll have to listen to me.”
Chapter twenty-seven
EMMA EASTON
I can’t pretend that Jude shoving me like that didn’t just scare the hell out of me. It did. Snow is falling outside again in slow, lazy drifts. Floating between us and the darkening trees as Jude and I stand on the back porch.
The glass door behind us is shut, but not closed off. I can see Rafe and Micah’s dim silhouettes through it. They’re close enough to intervene if they need to.
Jude stands near the railing like he’s not entirely trusting his body. His hands are tucked into his black hoodie. His shoulders are tense, but in an exhausted way. His hair has fallen forward, dark strands hanging across his forehead and into his hazel eyes.
He looks so tired, and it hurts.
