Chapter 42: Diogo

"Where's Stryker?" I ask coldly, dropping into my seat at the head of the war room table. I look around; everyone's there except my surveillance guy.
"He said he was coming in from outside the wall, desert side. Was doing a quick perimeter check," Jorje tells me.
I nod absently. Stryker is vigilant when he's running guard duty. The men on the wall hate him, but nothing ever gets past. I wonder if Taran ever attempted the wall with Stryker on duty. Or if she knew better than to attempt it. She seems to have our rotations figured out like clockwork, even when we switch them up. Perhaps I need to have a house cleaning among the police, find out if someone is working the rebel side. It would make perfect sense, I have people infiltrating the rebellion, not deep enough though. The rebels are not exactly a trusting.
"What've you heard?" I ask Jorje, the man that called this meeting.
He straightens in his chair, his serious gaze sweeping the room. "A rumour from our guy in the slums. According to him, there's a plot to bring down a section of the wall in retaliation for our crackdown on the illegals in their sector. Not sure if it's a single saboteur or the entire rebel faction."
Though murmurs erupt around the table, I don't react. I turn his statement over in my mind. Bringing down the wall is extreme, but then, the rebels are due for a little extreme. It's been three years since they rioted, creating havoc all over the city. I frown as the thought teases me. It'd turned out that they used the food shortage riots as a distraction to get their people smuggler through the gates and back in with dozens of illegals. People to shore up the cause.
Could it be? Could this rumour be another distraction? If so, who's being distracted and why? And is the rumour just a rumour or a full-fledged plot?
"I need everything you have from our man. If possible, I want you to bring him in. I'll talk to him myself. We need details if we're going to fight this kind of act."
I look around the room and start splitting up my men, giving them tasks. The majority will double shift their men on security duty. They'll organize the police, make sure everyone is on alert. Toward the end of the meeting, Stryker takes his place at the table.
He nods toward me and says, "All's quiet on the wall."
"Good," I acknowledge. "You'll stay on point there. Make sure our people detain anyone suspicious approaching the base."
I leave the meeting shortly after, arranging to meet with Jorje at the police station in a few hours. We'll meet with the captain and his top men, apprise them of the situation and a possible influx of detainees headed their way for processing. But before we do that I need to find Taran, make sure she's still at home and safe.
I enter our apartment, nodding toward Garrett on my way in. He nods back, "She's been quiet tonight, not saying much."
Taran is sitting at the table when I close the door behind me, a lantern lighting her lovely features. A tomato sandwich sits half eaten in front of her. The look on her face is serious, wary. Her eyes flick over me and then raise back up to my face, a hint of relief in her eyes.
"No blood this time," she says dismally.
"Wasn't fighting anyone," I say on a grunt. I walk toward her, stopping a few feet away. Her expression, her posture, none of it is welcoming. I wonder if this has to do with our conversation before I left or if her agile brain has been working on a new problem.
"How many have you killed?" she asks, almost absently, picking up the sandwich to take a bite. Juice drips down her chin from the tomato slice and she catches it with the edge of her hand.
It takes me a moment to understand her question, then I ask coolly, "Primitive or human?"
She flinches visibly at the reminder that I'm a killer. That I've killed more than the monsters that hunt us. I wonder why she's dwelling on such a macabre subject. She knows what kind of world we live in and she's aware of the sacrifices involved in my job.
"Either," she says, eyes big and haunted.
I answer truthfully, "Five humans by my own hand, dozens of execution orders, and countless Primitives."
She swallows and then whispers, "Countless as in you don't know how many?"
"No, I don't," I tell her. The more truthful answer would be hundreds. But I don't think she wants to hear that any more than she wants to know I've killed so many I can't keep count. "How many have you killed?" I ask, turning the question on her.
She looks up at me, appalled. "None! I've never killed anyone. Most people haven't, Diogo."
I crouch in front of her and place my hands on her knees, squeezing a little. "Exactly," I tell her gently. "You don't have to kill because there's people like me to do it for you."
"Th-that's horrible." Her eyes are wide and upset. She puts her hands over mine and runs her fingers soothingly over the skin. "I'm sorry you have to kill, Diogo. That you feel it's become your duty."
I shrug. "It's the price of protecting the things you love."
"But you didn't love anything before before"
I wait, but she lets the sentence sit unfinished between us. Finally, I finish for her. "Before you."
She nods, her eyes wide on my face.
I close my own eyes for a moment, trying to find the right words, then I look up at her, into her cloudy grey eyes, made sharper by the flickering light of the lantern. "You've given me the reason I need to keep doing this, Taran. To keep protecting Sanctuary. Before you I was losing myself in this city."
"But you couldn't have known I'd come along, or that you'd fall in love with me," she argues. I get the sense that she's searching for a way to say something or ask for something.
"I knew," I assure her.
She takes her hands from mine, her body stiff beneath my grip. "Did you know it would be me, or just some faceless woman? Did you plan on grabbing the Desert Wren and bringing her here? Marrying her?"
Frustration rises up as I search for a way to give her what she's looking for while still telling her the truth. "Yes, I admired the Desert Wren before I met you. Her ethics, drive and passion have fascinated me for a long time. We live in a bleak and uncertain world, hunting a woman that does what she does for the simple love of people has long been something that drives me. I work for the people too, Taran, but I have no love for them. They are my burden. I became Warlord because it's what I'm trained to do. I run this city because I'm good at it, but at some point I lost my motivation. Did I know that I'd fall in love with the Desert Wren? No, I didn't. But I had some vague idea that I would meet you and a future path would unfold."
"Diogo," she whispers and touches my cheek tentatively then leans forward to press her forehead against mine. "I I thought you were using me to sway the rebellion to your side."
I nod and lean into her hand. "I won't lie, Taran, the thought has crossed my mind. Even before I met you. But my feelings for you are genuine. Perhaps they began developing from your reputation alone, but the fire ignited once we met. Once I realized the real woman is as beautiful and noble as the Desert Wren."
She sighs heavily and shakes her head against mine, still holding onto my face. "How do you always manage to say what I need to hear? How are you this different from the Warlord I've grown up knowing was a bad man?"
"You make me a better person." I slide my hands up her thighs and wrap my arms around her waist, sliding her forward on the chair, tugging her closer to me.
She presses her lips to my face, right next to my eyebrow. I close my eyes and enjoy her feather light touch as she trails tiny kisses down my face, next to my eye, my nose, my cheek and my chin. She worships me with her caresses and I suck up every ray of sunshine she's willing to give. Taran is a saint and I'm a deeply lucky man to have her in my life.
Finally, she presses her lips to mine and though the heat rises within me, I sense that she's hesitating.
"What is it?" I ask, my voice husky with restrained passion.
She opens her eyes and looks straight into mine. Hers are anguished. My hands tighten on her in response. I don't like that she's looking at me this way or that her eyes appear haunted at all. But I know my girl, she's a deeply thoughtful woman who worries constantly over the state of our city and its citizens.
"If I told you I need to leave the city for a while, would you let me?" she asks. Her voice is tentative, soft and testing.
I frown and pull my face back from hers so I can read her expression. "You already know the answer to that," I tell her, hardening my voice. "Going outside the wall isn't an option anymore."
Her gaze takes on a faraway look and she nods absently. "I get it, Diogo. It's dangerous." Then she looks at me. "But I had to ask."
"Why do you want to go?" I ask her.
She drops her gaze before saying, "I heard a rumour that there are refugees in the mountains."
She's not telling me something, I can sense a reticence in her. She's accepting that I won't let her leave, but there's more to her reason for wanting to go. "There will always be more refugees, Taran. We can't save them all, much as I know you'd like to. But for your safety and the sake of my sanity, you need to remain within these walls."
Again, she nods. "I understand, Diogo."
I believe that she does understand, but I also think she'll do as she thinks she must. If she believes there's another person to be saved and it's her job to do it, then she'll try to find a way to go. I'll have to tighten security on her. "You won't be leaving, Taran."
She smiles sadly and kisses me. "I know."
Why do I feel like I've lost a piece of her in just a few sentences? What am I missing?