Chapter 110: Taran

Her eyes meet mine and I nod. It's over. Diogo has officially retaken his city. He's killed a man who professed loyalty and then turned on him. Blood stains his hands once more. A justified sacrifice, so the next man that thinks to take him on thinks twice.
Not long after Bishop arrives. He was the one to oversee the execution. At his Warlord's insistence, he was to declare Jorje Cruz' death in front of the citizens of Sanctuary. His dark, empathetic gaze sweeps the room, landing on Milla. He crosses toward her, drops to a knee in front of her, gracefully for his age, and speaks quietly, his words directed to the new widow. He tells her of her husband's swift and painless death.
Her cries grow louder and she reaches for him. At first it looks as though she's beating at his shoulders, then she collapses against him, falling to the floor against his knees. He gathers her and holds her tightly while she cries. I look away, unable to handle the emotion in the room. It could have too easily been my husband, me in Milla's spot, if Diogo had been discovered before he woke from his coma.
"Come, let's put her to bed." Emery rises from the couch.
I look up, catching Stryker's eye. He hasn't stopped watching me since I reentered the room. I'm not even sure he knows what's happening. "Carry her to the bedroom," I direct him, nodding toward Milla.
Stryker's eyes flick to the dramatic scene playing out in the room and for a brief moment his lip curls in disgust. A flash of the old Stryker. All practicality, no compassion. He nods, and goes to Milla, bending to scoop her up. With Emery's help, the doctor is able to climb back to his feet. He picks up his medical bag.
"I'll heat some more tea," I murmur absently, my eyes following Stryker and Milla as she's carried into Emery's bedroom. "The chamomile it might help her sleep."
Bishop stops beside me, placing his hand on my shoulder and squeezing. He has a soft spot for me. I'm not sure why. I'm useless in situations like this. I don't know how to be a comfort to anyone and I'm more likely to say the wrong thing. Yet, I'm grateful for his friendship. His calm, selfless presence, that allows me to be myself.
"Yes, tea is an excellent idea." He releases my shoulder and heads to the bedroom.
I stand and turn toward the kitchen. Seconds later Stryker is on my heels once more. I do my best to ignore him as I reheat the kettle and put new tea leaves in the pot. The man is seriously testing my sanity. I'm getting ready to lose my cool on him, when the front door opens and, with a whoosh of cool autumn air, Diogo strides in. He searches the room until his eyes settle on me standing next to the stove.
I silently question him with the lift of a brow.
"It's done," he acknowledges.
I let my breath out on a long sigh. I watch him, looking for a reaction. Today he had to execute a man he considered a friend. Despite his tough exterior, I know how these things affect him. Diogo is a man of deep thought. Though he sometimes moves like a bulldozer when he's directing the lives of others, where he can, he contemplates each move with careful precision. Jorje's execution wasn't something he took lightly. Inevitable, perhaps, but not without a lot of thought and some amount of sorrow. Despite Jorje's defection, he was a good man when he stood by Diogo's side.
"Milla is resting," I say quietly, ineffectually. Her wails can be easily heard from every part of the house. The walls are paper thin.
"She'll need to be moved," Diogo says, coming to stand at my back, his arms curving around my waist.
I hadn't thought of it, but of course he's right. We can't live in the same home as the wife of a usurper. The wife of a man my husband executed with his own hands.
I lean back against Diogo's chest and sigh deeply. "Maybe it's time for us to move. Right now, Milla needs Emery more than we do. Let's look for a new place to live. Give her some peace, if she can find it."
"If that's what you wish then I'll have some of my men scout out a place for us tomorrow."
The thought of leaving the home I'd spent so many of my formative years in causes an ache in my chest. I don't want to leave. I want to be surrounded by the familiar. But I also recognize the impossible need for what it is. The desperate wish to cling to the past, the things I love and don't want to lose. As much as I love my husband, in this uncertain world, it can be difficult to forge a path forward through the constant trauma.
I nod and look up at him, over my shoulder. "Yes, I'd like that. Emery can visit as often as she wants?"
"Of course," Diogo says, his deep voice promising me anything I want as long as I'm happy.
Happiness is an elusive emotion, not something I fully understand, or ever thought to find. Still, being with Diogo is as close to happiness as I've ever managed. I'll cling to it with every fibre of my being if that's what it takes to hold onto this feeling. I stand on my toes and kiss the edge of his jaw.
He turns me toward him, cradling my stomach. His serious eyes lift to mine. "It's time to deal with the situation arising at the nuclear power plant. There won't be a future for Sanctuary if we allow it to be taken by the Primitives."
I nod and hide my face in his shoulder so he doesn't see the fear and disappointment. Of course he's right. The spectre of a nuclear meltdown has been haunting our territory for almost a month, since the waves of refugees have shown up. Luckily, one of Diogo's last orders before the coma was to send some of his men out to protect the facility. But news has reached us, and it's bad. His men are falling, tired, overworked and unable to hold back the onslaught of what seems to be Primitives organizing themselves to take out one of the last remaining power plants.
"I know," I whisper, trying to be brave. My husband intends to go out to the plant himself, to bring an historian, someone capable of shutting it down safely and making sure it stays offline. He will face a horde of Primitives intent on stopping him. Not just hungry Primitives trying to bite anyone that gets in their path, but beings intent on destruction for an unknown reason.
He hugs me tighter against him, his big hand sliding through my hair and cupping the back of my head. "I have to go."
"I know," I repeat.
"It's a delicate situation, has to be handled carefully. I can't just pass this off to another. It'll be my job to protect the historian and ensure the success of this mission. Take him to the power plant and back."
I lean back, take his face in my hands and give him a stern look. "I know, Diogo."
He smiles grimly and kisses my forehead. "I don't want to leave you right now. What if something happens?"
"Nothing will happen to me, I'm completely fine," I assure him. Then I bite my lip and glance away.
"What is it?" he demands. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing important," I try to reassure him.
"Tell me," he insists.
"I just..." I start and then stop, trying to figure out how to phrase what I want into a question. Then I give up and simply say, "My sister."
He understands. His gaze softens and he runs his hands down my arms. "Baby, you've been so patient. You must be frantic. I should've thought of her sooner. I'll find your sister, if she's out there. I'll make it a priority, before we head out on this mission."
My heart beats hard against my ribcage. Tears, the elusive wetness I'd been unable to find only moments before, prick my eyes. We'd only exchanged a few words about my sister after Diogo woke up. He asked if I'd had any contact and when I said no, he kissed me and promised that he would do everything he could to find her for me. After he retook his city.
Now, Sanctuary is his again. And while I desperately want him to find Skye, his other priorities are more important.
"We can find her after you get back. I can wait."
He shakes his head and touches a hand to my cheek. "Do you trust me, baby?"
"Of course," I answer immediately.
"Then trust me to find her."