Page 123 of Harbinger

“I am helping you,” he growls.

“No, you’re helping yourself.” A thick silence settles after the accusation leaves my mouth.

Bishop doesn’t move. That’s how I know I’m right. When he finally speaks, the words strain from him. “But there are things you don’t understand.”

Something edged hides in the words, like he’s still holding back. He glances at the door. I wait for him to try to help me do just that. He doesn’t.

“That’s not an explanation,” I say, voice shaking.

“No,” he agrees. “It isn’t.”

I throw the papers back at him. “You’re unbelievable.”

He stares me down as they flutter to his feet. “Fine. I’ll say it. I want you alive.”

I don’t know how to respond.

He kneels in front of me again, close enough that I can’t look anywhere else. “I want you safe.”

There’s something I can’t ignore in his words.

“And I want you to stop running before it costs you everything.” He grips my knees like he’ll hold me in place himself before he lets that happen.

“You asked why I didn’t tell you about Damalis.”

My heart leaps into my throat, and I nod.

“You were pushing to come with me.”

I blink. “I wanted to help.”

“I didn’t want you there,” he says plainly.

His bluntness knocks the air from my lungs. “Why?”

He hesitates. “Because it was your home.”

Home.

The word hits harder than I expect.

Damalis flashes through my mind in unwanted fragments. The fields and the worn stone walls, Andry’s laughter echoing off the hills. Kieren chasing loose cattle with me. The certainty that no matter how little we had, there would always be a warm fire and my family.

Because it was your home.

Like that place doesn’t exist for me anymore.

Like I can never go back.

“You don’t get to decide that,” I whisper, but I already know he’s right. I can’t go back. Not after tonight.

“No, I don’t,” he agrees. “But I swore to protect you.”

I look away, blinking hard. “You’re telling me this now,” I say, “because … what? You feel guilty?”

“Because if we’re going to survive,” he says, and the word survive lodges uncomfortably in my chest, “we need to learn to trust each other.”

“If I had trusted you, maybe I would have told you Kieren’s plan. Maybe you would have actually helped me.” I let the truth hang in the air, and he doesn’t interrupt. “Kieren would still be alive. I wish …”