Salinger

The discussion with my mother does little to ease the gnawing in my chest. Even though I know she has the power to set the man free, she would make no promise to do so.

But she did promise to protect Tia. And even though I know the brutality of Warren Thorne and Lawson Jefferson's tactics, my mother is just as fierce when defending what she wants.  And what she wants is my wife pregnant.

A dark chuckle rumbles in my throat, knowing that even if Tia is pregnant, there’s no chance that it’s mine. Not that I would confess that to my mother. It would just give her more reason to think I’m weak, useless, the lesser of her two children.

That’s always what I was to her. But after Hannah’s death, and my part involved in it, my mother’s distaste for me grew to what I could only call loathing. The only thing I’m good enough, for now, is bringing her grandchildren into the world.

So, in a way, I understand how Tia feels.

I’m numb, drained, and so is Tia when we finally walk through the doors of our compound. The men swarm us and Tia is instantly wrapped up in Fallon’s arms. She melts into him, taking his comfort. Comfort that I want to give but know I can’t. Not when she blames me for Giles.

She hasn’t said as much, but how can she not? It’s my father who did those horrid things to the man. My father who refuses to let him go, even though he knows he’s an innocent man.

The car ride back was silent. Both blindfolded, we sat only inches apart, but it could have been miles for how distant she felt. And now, she’s back with her other husbands, the men she leans on, makes love to, shares her heart and body with.

But they don’t know her secrets. That privilege is mine. It’s the one thing she gave me that she hasn’t given the others. In some ways, I know her better than all of them.  

“What happened?” Fallon growls out, staring daggers at me as he holds Tia against his chest like she’s the most fucking precious thing in the world.

She is. I get that now. It’s been a slow revelation, but now it fills every crevice of my heart and mind.

“It’s a long story,” I say weakly, not wanting to get into all the details with them now, but knowing I have no other choice.

As if on cue, Fallon hisses, “Then start talking.”

I can feel the other men’s tension around us.

Emerson crosses his arms over his large chest, long hair tied away from his face, exposing deep worry lines on his forehead. Huxley sits down on the arm of one of the couches, watching Tia and Fallon. And Banks stands to the side, hands in the pockets of his slacks, black eyes piercing. All are waiting for an answer. One I don’t have the strength to give.

“Giles,” Tia whimpers against Fallon’s chest. “We saw him.”

Fallon tilts her chin up with his palm, forcing her to look at him. “Where?”

I can hear his unspoken message, and I have no doubt he’d go on a suicide mission to find his friend. The two of them are close. I did some digging and know how their families are connected. By friendship and tragedy. Fallon would fight with his last breath to save the man, but I also know his priority is Tia, which gives me some small hope that he’ll stay grounded.

“They have him in a secure location.” I shove my hands in my pocket and lean against the wall, needing the support. Not sure why I’m so exhausted, but it’s like all the energy has been drained out of me. “Even if we could find our way there, you won’t get in. It’s more fortified than the base.”

My words are met with mumbles and curses.

“How is he?” Emerson asks, the words tight like he has some indication of the horrors the man has barely survived.

Tia twists in Fallon’s arms, and she looks at me, grief clouding her eyes. We both know that Giles won’t last long if he’s not released soon.

“He’s still alive,” she whispers. “But barely.”

Silence meets her words, and we all stand there for a long moment lost in our own thoughts. Eventually, I find the strength to tell them about my mother, about her promise to protect Tia. It’s dangerous telling them my family secrets, not knowing how they’ll react, but the time for hiding behind lies is over.

I say nothing about who Tia really is. That’s on her. Our wife. Except, she’s not, not legally. The only thing I can think of that would unbind her from the man who bought her is the one thing that could take her from us forever.

If she were to get pregnant, give birth to a healthy daughter, she’d be given immunity by the Global Council. She’d really be free. Even if she wanted to leave us. It would be her choice.

Yes, the child would have to stay here in Alaska, but Tia would be a free woman, unbound by all laws and charges. Even for the murder of the mercenary.

This world is so upside down. I sometimes wonder how humanity will survive. Maybe it won’t. Maybe this whole population crisis is nature’s way of getting rid of the parasites that have destroyed this planet in only a few thousand years.

“I’m taking Tia up to bed,” Fallon says, an arm around her waist.

I catch Tia’s gaze before Fallon turns her towards the stairs. The silent communication between us is fleeting, and for a second, I think she wants me to go with her, to stay by her side.

Not likely.

And she has Fallon. The man isn’t going to let anyone near her until he gets whatever primal alpha shit he has going on out of his system.

I should be happy that the others care about her the way they do. But for the first time, or at least the first time I’ve realized what the emotion is, jealousy stirs in my chest. I want to be with her. Want more than she’s given me, more than I’ve been willing to take, to fight for.