Chapter 40: Taran

I knew our peace, the moments of shared understanding, wouldn't last long, but I'd hoped for longer than a day. That we'd have long enough for our fledgling relationship to settle in. I should've known better. Nothing good in Sanctuary sticks around. Strawberries get eaten or die, with none to replace them. Baby birds grow up and fly away. Food shortages run rampant in the lower classes. Children get sick without medicine, parents get desperate, and the city police show their brutality when there's any unrest. The bad is as predictable as the sun.
Diogo and I wake on the roof, wrapped in each other's arms, his radio crackling nearby. He rolls off the cot while I catch the blanket to my chest, stretch and squint in the general direction of the sun, still low in the horizon and hidden by buildings. I'd guess it's early. Not even 6am yet. Diogo pulls his pants on, leaving them unbuttoned as he reaches for the radio.
"Report," he snaps.
I've come a long way with our Sanctuary's Warlord. I find his deep voice, clipped with annoyance at the interruption, sexy as hell. Maybe I find it, and him, so attractive because I know he's cold with everyone else but he turns into a fiery, possessive beast where I'm concerned. After spending a lifetime watching out for myself and everyone around me, the way Diogo treats me is alluring. He takes protective to a whole other level.
But his job, it's going to be a wrench in our relationship. It's been the driving force placing us on opposing sides from before we even met. And I can tell that whatever he's hearing on the radio is no different. I try to catch the words, coming out at a fast, clipped pace. Half the words are acronyms that I don't understand.
What I do understand are the words, "rebel faction" and "sabotage." I gasp, pushing myself up to a sitting position. I shove the tangled mass of my hair away from my face and lean over to search the ground for my clothes. When I don't see them, I remember that Diogo carried me up here naked. I tuck the blanket around my chest and stand, going to Diogo's side.
He's not trying to have this conversation away from me so I'm not going to pretend I'm not eavesdropping. He reaches for me, almost absently and tucks me into his side as he talks, his hand splayed over my hip.
"Have the team leaders gather in my war room. Bring Stryker in, he's leading the guard on the wall. I'll be there in ten minutes."
The radio crackles in acknowledgement.
He looks down at me, his eyes hard and unreadable as he studies me, searching for something. I know what he's going to ask before he even asks it. "Do you have any knowledge of a rebel plot, Taran? Something big?"
I chew on my lip, trying to decide what to tell him. I try to pull from his hold as I think, but he sets his radio down and tightens his arms in a cage around my body. He stares down at me, waiting for an answer. Loyalty to my people wars with loyalty to my husband. I'd never imagined being in such a position. I'd always just whole-heartedly given myself to the cause, choosing my friends from among like-minded rebels.
"Answer, Taran, and answer truthfully." Impatience laces his voice.
I shove an annoyed hand against his chest. He doesn't move so I'm forced to stand with my hand curved over his rock-hard pectoral muscle, the bare skin of his chest heating me. "I don't know how to answer and keep my integrity," I try to explain.
He gives me a light shake and forces my face up. "You belong to house Fuentes, your loyalty belongs to me."
"Loyalty is earned, Diogo!" I snap. "And to be honest, you've been destroying my initial impressions of you and replacing them with a man far more reasonable than I thought. I haven't had enough time to decide what this means to my life, if I believe we have a future. I won't give you rebel secrets any more than you're going to give me military plans."
His hands curve around my waist, squeezing until I'm uncomfortable, until I think there might be fingerprint bruises left behind in my flesh. His eyes burn on my face. "You do not get to decide your future, Taran, I do. It's your duty as my wife and the future mother of my children to tell me what I need to know."
I'm reminded of my place in the world in a few short sentences. I feel despair at his words, but they're passionately spoken. I know he cares about me, loves me and wants my happiness. Maybe the core of who I am will never reconcile with his intentions for me, but I need to remember that there is still hope for us as long as he cares.
I close my eyes against the heat of his gaze. He's too much right now. I can't think when I'm faced with all this emotion. Finally, I take a breath and look up at him. "We think differently, Diogo. And until our values align I won't do anything that might harm the people I consider family." He opens his mouth to argue, but I cut him off. "I will tell you this, because I can and because you've made compromises for me. There is no large rebel plot, as far as I'm aware of."
As the words come out of my mouth, it occurs to me that Diogo knows something I don't know. He has insider knowledge on the rebellion that he shouldn't have. Does he have someone on the inside, like we have in his police force? The more I think about it, the more it makes sense. He fed my forger false information on refugees that don't exist. He must've had a person close to the rebels in order to pull that off. Not close enough to know my real identity though.
Diogo lets me go and paces away, clearly trying to decide what he should do. He turns and points at me, pinning me to the spot with his intensity. "I'd better not find out you've lied to me, Taran."
Anger ignites quickly. "You insist I trust your word at every turn, Diogo. Yet you question mine. Every time you speak to me in anger you hammer another nail in the coffin of our marriage. We won't have a relationship without trust."
"You're wrong. Regardless of your feelings, you belong to me, Taran. End of discussion."
And he does end the discussion, by leaving. I'm left gaping after him on the rooftop terrace. I think about following him, but what's the point? He's angry and when he's angry he's unpredictable. I suppose I can understand. He's been carefully maneuvering every aspect of this city for decades. Now, suddenly, he has a wife to contend with. But not just any wife, a rebel leader. A woman with values and opinions and who will argue with him at every turn, try to change his world view.
I sink down on the cot and curl on my side, closing my eyes. I should be more patient with my husband. Life could be so much worse. He could've been the terrible tyrant I'd originally thought, instead of a thoughtful man with strong leadership qualities. I could've been kept as his concubine, forced to see to his needs while he continued on with his life with no thoughts to my comfort. I could've been tortured and executed.
With that chilling thought haunting my mind I allow myself to drift into a fitful sleep. My dreams are dark and nightmarish. I know I'm asleep but I can't seem to escape the binds of my dream world and force myself to wake up.
I'm running through Sanctuary, looking for a safe place to hide while a massive dust storm chases me. It has ripped through the wall, taking it down piece by piece. The city is empty of citizens. Somehow, they've all disappeared while I'm left in a desperate fight to save my own life. I'm running through buildings, climbing and jumping as fast as I can, faster than humanly possible. Then I'm standing on the rooftop ledge of One Church, my arms spread wide, the storm coming straight at me. I know it'll kill me, so I choose freedom instead. I leap off the roof, soaring through the air into nothingness. As I fall, I turn and look up. Diogo is standing on the roof watching me fall, his face completely void of expression. I reach out for him but the storm swallows him, taking him from my sight. I tense, preparing to hit the ground.
"Taran."
A voice reaches out to me, yanking me from the gripping nightmare. I reach for it, desperate to escape the fall that will surely kill me. Hands shake me and finally I open my eyes. I look up into the face of the last man I expected.
My ex-husband, Xavier Gunther.