Chapter 92: Diogo

I drive through the gates of Sanctuary, happy to be home, but happier to have my wife safe behind the walls of our city. The Sanctuary that I own, that I control. The feeling is a dominant emotion within me, the instinct of having my woman in the place where I am king. Where I can protect her best.
I reach through the window and take a radio from one of the gate guards. Mine lost its charge while we were on the road. I lift it to my lips and start speaking, "Fuentes here. I need Doctor Bishop at the Tower immediately. Cruz, you'll need to come too. I want a full report of all activity since I was gone and a progress report on the wall rebuild."
"I don't need a doctor," Taran mumbles sinking into her seat and shooting me an annoyed look.
I glance pointedly at her arm where she'd been bitten, but don't bother speaking. She knows she'll be seeing the doctor. She was out of my sight for days, doing god knows what. Having god knows what done to her. She told me her version of the story, but I don't trust her to give me all the pertinent details, especially if she was hurt in some way I haven't discerned yet.
"Drop me at the station." Stryker nods to the road ahead of us, indicating the path to the guard station. Apparently, he means to get right back to work. Not that he has any reason to do otherwise. He doesn't have a wife to care for and he spent most of the night dozing in the passenger seat. He should be fresh as a daisy and ready to report to the wall.
I give Stryker a hard stare, one eye on the road and one on him. He stares steadily back. I wonder if he's thinking the same thing. That moment Taran got bitten. He hadn't been shocked or surprised. Hasn't said a word yet about how she didn't turn. I don't know where his brain's at, what he's thinking when it comes to her immunity. His knowledge could make him dangerous. And while I consider my men to be completely loyal, I don't like that someone besides me, Taran and Bishop know her secret.
Stryker knows what her survival means. Knows what her survival could've meant to his own wife if a cure could be developed from the people who have immunity to the bite. The existence of a possible anti-virus could be a game-changer. But even if a cure is developed, he has to realize it's too late to do anything about a woman who was bitten twenty years ago.
"What's happening?" Taran whispers, anxiety sharp in her tone.
I whip my head to the front and slow the vehicle down. People line the pavement, surrounding all of the most important buildings in sanctuary. The police station, guard station, water treatment and food distribution centres. The frowning desperate faces that we pass speak to unrest within the city.
"A riot?" Taran asks tentatively. "Like the food shortage riots?"
"Not yet," I grunt, guiding my jeep through the restless throng toward the guard building. "But something's definitely going on. They're preparing for some kind of protest."
I stop the car and without a word, Stryker gets out and walks toward the doors of the guard building. When someone tries to stop him he brushes them off, never breaking stride until he's safe inside the building.
We leave right away, heading toward Sector One and the Tower. She gasps and clutches my arm as we approach the checkpoint.
"I see it," I say grimly.
It's surrounded by people and they're arguing with the armed guards. She digs her fingers into my arm as the guard waves his rifle toward the crowd, causing them to step back.
"They're saying something."
We both fall silent, listening, and then our eyes meet as we realize at the same time they're chanting, we want the Desert Wren, over and over. She swallows hard and her eyes shine as she realizes the group at the gate are her rebel friends. They haven't seen her in months and they've come to demand her freedom. I frown at the excitement spreading across her face. I don't know what she's thinking, but her ties with the rebellion have been severed.
I'm about to shout for the guards to open the gate for us when Taran shouts, "Emery!" Before I can stop her, she flings the passenger side door open and leaps out of the jeep. It was still moving, albeit very slowly, so she stumbles when her feet hit the ground. Arms wrap around her and she's pulled into a bear hug with a man I don't recognize.
My blood boils as I park the car and reach for my own door. Once again, she's putting herself at risk and she's hugging a male.
"It's Taran!" Voices shout from all around us.
I catch sight of her as she's dragged into the melee laughing and struggling to free herself from a bone-crushing hug. Once my woman is safely escorted away, I intend to return and break this man's arms, teaching him not to touch another man's wife, before disembowelling him to make sure it doesn't happen again.
"My girl!" Emery cries pulling Taran from the man and wrapping her in her arms. Tears stream down both of their faces. Emery takes Taran's face in her hands and examines her, her sharp eyes flying over Taran's body. "It's been so long since I've set eyes on you. I had to make sure you were safe."
"I'm doing okay, Emery," Taran reassures the other woman squeezing her hands.
I grab Taran, pull her against my side and walk her back to the car. I don't care that, for the first time in months, she's finally seeing the woman she considers as close as a mother. As far as I'm concerned Emery has brought danger to my gates in her selfish need to set eyes on Taran. I warned her to stay away, but she seems not to have heeded my warning. I may have to make my next warning more permanent.
"Listen to me." Emery grips Taran's hand in a hard hold, making sure they remain connected and walking with us as I drag Taran back to my jeep. Emery's words burst out in rapid fire, knowing she's limited to a few seconds. Once I shut the door between them, she'll be cut off from further communication, a satisfying thought. "There's unrest in the city. Without Xavier Gunther or the Desert Wren to lead us the slums are in complete chaos. People are scared and angry."
Fury rises, and I turn to snarl in her face, "The Desert Wren is dead. And all of her former rebel friends will be too if they don't stop pursuing my wife."
Ignoring Taran's gasp at my harsh words, I open the passenger side door and shove her inside. Completely ignoring Emery who smacks the doorframe with her palm and reaches for the locked handle, I return to my seat, start the jeep up and drive forward despite the crowd in my way.
Emery bangs on the jeep and shouts. "This rebellion is rising up. Make sure you're ready for it!"
"I'm sorry," Taran whispers, not loud enough for Emery to hear.
Emery's hand slides away. "Come back to us, darling."
I hit the gas and we shoot forward into Sector One. People leap out of the way of the vehicle. I turn to glance back through the window as guards shove the throngs of people back, shouting and pointing their weapons. Taran follows my gaze and frowns at the rough handling. I'm satisfied that my men will keep the rebels out.
"Was that necessary?" she snaps, turning back in her seat to glare furiously at me.
"You got out of a moving vehicle to confront an angry mob. Have you no care for your own life?" Any patience I had left slips from me as I remember the way she stumbled into the mob. My voice rises to a shout. "Do I have to handcuff you to me whenever we leave the apartment just to stop you from doing anything else stupid?"
She flinches back in her seat and stares at me, shocked. I'm not surprised, I rarely lose my temper, especially with her. Taran has forced me to find hitherto unknown depths of patience when it comes to dealing with her. I can see the gathering argument in her eyes, and while I'm still irritated with her behaviour, I can't help but admire her fighting spirit.
"You're wrong!" she snaps. "I may have my reckless moments, but I never do anything deliberately stupid. Those were my friends, I was never in danger."
"That is not for you to decide." The day I took her as my wife was the day she became mine to care for, whether she likes it or not.
"I'm not a child."
"You'll be treated like one until I know that you can comply with my wishes." I stop the vehicle in front of the Tower and turn to her, sliding my arm across the back of the seat and tangling my fingers in the ends of her hair. I breathe her scent her scent, touch her, savour the textures that make up her; her silky skin, her curly hair, her beautiful, small curves. They combine to calm me on a level nothing else can. "You are too independent, Taran. You get hurt when you're left to your own devices. I won't allow this to happen again. You're" I trail off, searching her face for understanding. She looks back at me with those velvety grey eyes, with the intensity that is uniquely hers, as though she's truly looking at me and seeing every part, right down to my soul. "You're too fucking important to lose."
She sighs and relaxes, tipping her head to the side and rubbing it against my knuckles where my hand rests on the seat behind her. I feel the tension gradually release from my shoulders.
"I can never stay angry with you, even when you're being completely unreasonable." Her eyes water and she shakes her head, letting out a little laugh. "I cry too much."
I brush a tear from her cheek, curling it into the palm of my hand. "You cry the perfect amount." I lean over and kiss her, my lips lingering over hers, tasting the tears as they fall. Then I murmur against her, "Just let me protect you. I can't lose you, baby."
She nods and smiles against me, her lips brushing mine, sending a wave of heat crashing through me. "Okay, you can be an overbearing pain in my ass for a while."
I take her wrist and pull her out my side of the car before reaching in to grab my bag and slinging it over my shoulder. I slam the car door shut and escort her into the Tower. "Unless you want the handcuffing option you'd better just settle in and follow the rules."
She laughs and says, "Let's start with some handcuffing in the privacy of our apartment first and then see if we like doing it in a more public place."
I grin at my wife's kinky suggestion. She never ceases to surprise or amuse me. I tap her ass as she hurtles past me to take the stairs at a run. She likes to do that. Thinks it gives her the momentum to get through the first ten floors. She makes it to twelve before she starts slowing down and then floor number sixteen when she starts clutching at a stitch in her side and looking a little green. Fuck, this is exactly why I wanted her to see a doctor. She's too fucking delicate for her own good.
I shift my bag and sweep her up into my arms, holding her against my chest. "Tell me what's wrong," I demand.
She snuggles against my chest and relaxes into me as I carry her the rest of the way up. "I'm fine, Diogo. Just a little tired from all that travel."
I grunt my disagreement, but she doesn't catch on to my concern. She used to be healthy enough to climb over a 90-story wall and back in the same day, in scorching hot desert conditions. But now she can't climb 20 floors on her own in a cool concrete stairwell. No, I won't believe my wife is in perfect condition until she receives a clean bill of health from her doctor.
Bishop, Cruz and Grayson await us just outside the apartment doors when we arrive. Grayson must've gotten through the crowds quicker than I did, to make it back to the Tower before us. I nod his way, pleased with my man for his dedication to Taran's safety. She reaches for his hand, a huge smile on her face.
"Grayson! You're okay."
He glances my way and gives her hand the fastest squeeze possible before dropping it like it's on fire. "Mrs. Fuentes, I'm pleased to have you back safe and sound. My apologies for the greenhouse."
"You did everything you could," she says seriously.
I break up the overly familiar moment between my lieutenant and my wife. "You wait outside while Cruz briefs me." I stalk into the apartment and through to the bedroom. I set her carefully down on the bed and turn to Bishop. "You need to examine every inch."
"Diogo!" Taran protests.
I don't bother arguing with her. We both know who'll win this one. I stare hard at my elderly doctor who's watching Taran with some concern. "I'll want a complete report when you finish."
I leave the doctor to tend my wife, leaving part of my heart in that room. I can't shake the feeling that something significant is about to take place. And while I suspect I know what it is, my gut clenches in fear while my heart soars at the possibilities.