Chapter 95: Diogo

"Speak!" I bark, annoyed at the interruption.
"She tried to trick me," Grayson radios in. "Tried to convince me something was wrong with her, begged me to get her into the bathroom because she said she had to umm vomit." He clears his throat at this point before continuing. He's said enough though, I'm already heading out of my meeting and out the front door of the guard station. Cruz and the other lieutenants can wait, I have a wife to check on. And once I've assured myself she's fine, she will regret trying to trick her guard.
I will do anything to make sure my wife is safe. I will curtail all of her freedoms, have her watched 24/7, I will murder her friends if I think they're plotting to steal her back. I will do whatever it takes to make sure she lives.
Taran is my Sanctuary.
She'll be lucky to get away will a stern warning since I can't spank her while she's pregnant and she's already lost most of her privileges. "What did she do?" I demand as I step out of the building. I'm hit by a blast of smoke, caused by the many fires that've been lit throughout Sanctuary in protest of my recent arrests and the miserable living conditions. What the rebels fail to realize is conditions are bad everywhere. Each passing year stretches our limited resources. The technology we use to make life easier is breaking down with no one left to fix it. My purpose is not to suppress any single faction or sector, but to make sure we all survive relatively unscathed. But explaining my motives to a group of people who have shown themselves to be dangerous is pointless. And I will not risk my wife so that she might reprise her role as the Desert Wren in order to soothe the masses. I draw the line at her involvement, though Cruz and several others have suggested I use her connection to the rebellion to calm the city.
I climb into the jeep and turn it on. It rumbles to life and I pull away from the curb barely a second later. I bring the radio up to my ear, listening to Grayson tell me how my devious little wife tried to escape her cage.
"After I helped her into the bathroom, she elbowed me in the stomach and ran out, slamming the door behind her. She tried to rush out of the apartment, but I cut her off, she didn't even make it to the front door."
"Fuck," I snarl, hitting the gas harder.
She could've slammed into the table on her way out and bruised her stomach. She could've fallen down the stairs in her rush to escape and lost the baby, or worse, her life. My anger rises with each step and peaks the moment I reach the Tower.
As I drive toward Sector One, ash settles on my windshield and all the buildings surrounding the area, turning the city to a dull grey. It's a grim site. If I don't bring this rebellion under control soon there may not be a city left to govern over. I'm trying to allow Taran's influence into my handling of captured rebels; handing out less harsh sentences, giving them the option of working on the wall rebuild or prison. But this morning we had a breakthrough, we found out who planted the bomb and were able to arrest her and a group of rebels she'd holed up with. I don't have a choice, I'll have to make an example of the bomber. I can't be seen as a weak leader, not in a time of such unrest.
When I reach the Tower, I take the steps two at a time until I reach the top. It takes me under three minutes, and I'm furious all over again as I arrive. If Taran had managed to incapacitate her guard and get out, she could've easily been grabbed on the streets. She's in no condition to run for her life, she's been sick for weeks. This pregnancy has obviously affected her judgement.
I stride into the apartment to find Taran pacing furiously across the floor, her arms wrapped tightly around her middle. When she catches sight of me, she sends me a fiery glare. I can't help it, some of my anger fades as her magnificence hits me. She shouldn't look this good with her dishevelled hair in an unbrushed tangle down her back and her clothes loose on her frame because she chose one of my shirts. But regardless of her drawn face and the tired puffiness to her eyes, she's never looked more beautiful.
"Come with me," I say, taking her arm. I don't give her a choice, I force her to follow me up the stairs to the terrace on the top of the building.
"What are we doing?" she asks sharply as we step out.
I take her hand in mine and push it out in front of us, waiting. It takes only a few seconds for a flake of ash to land on her. Then another, then another, until it coats us. Our hair, our clothes, our bare skin. She looks surprised and reaches up to brush some away from my nose. Then she brings her hand to her face and rubs her fingers together.
"Soot." She sounds shocked.
The ash started coming down this morning, flying up above the city, in a windy vortex, only to fall back down in a dirty, sticky coating, suffocating an already dying city. Taran must've stayed inside all day and not looked out the windows. She's usually very observant, but some of her edge seems to have been lost in a cloud of grief that hangs constantly over her. When I look at moments like this, taking in my distressed wife, I wonder if I made the right decision in leaving her sister behind. I could've taken Skye by force.
I didn't because I hadn't wanted the hellion fucking up my Sanctuary in a coup attempt. The woman had rebel leader written all over her. The last thing I need is a competent, fierce woman taking over our already annoying rebellion. She would become the new Desert Wren, only with enough cold-blooded intelligence to do a more effective job than her predecessors.
Taran walks toward the edge of the building, staring out at the falling ash and then up at the clouds above. The sky is grey, but the ash isn't coming from the clouds. It's coming from a city on fire.
"Look." I point into the city, where a blaze glows bright orange.
"The slums!" she gasps worriedly.
"The gates, to be more exact," I say grimly. "Rebels are setting fires at the major checkpoints between sectors, creating chaos and making it easier to slip through. They've infiltrated every part of the city, Taran. Setting buildings alight along the way. Not all of those buildings are abandoned. In the past several weeks, many of our residents have lost their homes. I've had to divert resources to relocation efforts instead of stopping the fires and apprehending the culprits."
Guilt flashes across her face as she realizes it's most likely her friends causing all this damage. I don't want her to feel guilty, I want her to wake up and take her own safety into consideration. "Taran, if you'd gotten out of the building today, you could've walked straight into this mess. I don't care who you're connected to, the danger is real."