Page 36

Riley

“ T ime for a quick game?” I climbed through Amaia’s open window. An old habit I’d hoped made her smile.

She didn’t jump. Didn’t react other than glance up from her paperwork with a stiffened back. I leaned over her to see what she was working on as I moved from behind her desk. Evacuation Plan: E. Plans that, unfortunately, would be coming into play sooner than desired.

“You plan on finishing the alphabet?” I asked, waving up the wooden board I clasped in my hand.

She dropped her pen and reached out in expectation. I smirked, dropping it into her hand, walking toward the door. My back pressed against it and I watched her open it carefully. Her eyes lit up from across the room. “Where’d you get that?”

“I made it for you,” I said, pretending it was no big deal, though I was anxious as ever. It’d taken two days to find the perfectly round pebbles along the beach, but I wanted them to mean something. That little cove was her place of peace, and this was more than a simple gift. “Travel sized.”

She ran her fingers along the hand-carved, maple colored mancala board. Tears lined her eyes as she inspected it. “Thank you, it’s beautiful.” Amaia’s gaze was intense.

I broke our eye contact, shoving my hands into my pockets, and looked around the room. I’d passed Elie out on her run and Alexiares was still on a mission. Just the two of us. No better time than now man.

“Not gonna offer me some coffee?” I bit my tongue at the wrong words finding their way out.

“Offering implies that you’re a guest,” she scoffed with the roll of her eyes. “Which we both know you are not.”

“Okay, how about some pie for celebration?”

“While you’re quite the artist, Ril, this is hardly something to celebrate.” She laughed a small, quiet chuckle then stood to close the window. I watched as she placed the coffee pot in the fireplace and it ignited without effort.

I moved over to the couch and cleared off the coffee table to make room for the board. Amaia sat across from me on the floor, legs crossed. “Before the game gets going, I have good news and pretty shitty news.”

She stopped setting up the game, and the pebbles clattered against the sides. “Hit me with the shit first.”

“Ronan’s on the move. We have about a day or so before we’re surrounded.”

“That was fast,” she muttered and resumed placing the beads.

“You sent the Bloodhound .” The heat from the fire warmed the room to an uncomfortable level. Sweat beaded my forehead, and I tugged at my shirt. “It’s hot in here. Don’t tell me you expected slow results.”

“I expected some temporary plausible deniability. Next time I’ll be clearer.” Amaia turned the fire down to a low flame and motioned she was ready to play.

I shoved the board toward her. Partially as a way to tell her to go first, partially because she needed to look closer, or I was going to lose my mind. The small contours along the board were intricate. Complex. A real work of art, according to Yasmin. It was a lot to take in, but she’d notice. She always did.

“Hunter’s back and while Hollis may be stupid, Bietoletti and Tyler are not. The cavalry never made it to Ronan, and you … we sent suspected traitors in their stead. I’d say he was itching for a reason to come after us and was more than happy we finally made our move.”

Amaia sighed, tucking a stray curl behind her ear, then made her play. “Okay. We expected this. It’s fine. I thought we’d have until after the meeting, but we can make it work.”

I tilted my head to the left with the downward tug of my lips. “Tell me what you need.”

“I’ve been reading?—”

“Predictably.” I cracked a grin, and she tossed a pillow at me. I caught it, throwing it back with half the effort.

“The Vietnam War is fascinating, you know?”

“To you, yes,” I concurred.

She narrowed her eyes and shook her head. “Hunter suggested that brute force won’t work, but I’m inclined to disagree.” Amaia held a hand up, knowing I was about to question her memory. “I know what I told him. This is what I’m telling you . They don’t need to know everything. Guerrilla warfare is brute force by nature. In the same vein, it’s extremely strategic. Every strike, every movement—intentional. Our defensive location isn’t just a shield; it’s a weapon. We can turn this place into seven different levels of hell.”

God, I never had a clue where she was going with that brilliant mind of hers. It was like chasing smoke—impossible to catch, mesmerizing to watch. One thing I did know? If I kept quiet and listened long enough, the work I needed to do would eventually come into focus. She had a way of making it all click down every avenue of chaos.

I exhaled, already resigned to the inevitable. “Let me guess. I’m in charge.”

“This is why we’re a great team,” she teased, leaning over the table to give my shoulder a shove. “I don’t even have to tell you the plan, but yes. With Alexiares still gone, I need you and Abel here on set up.”

At times I hated being lieutenant. It meant that there was inherently less room to argue—not that there ever was with her. Every part of me wanted to be out there with her. It would allow me to support her where it mattered the most. Except at her side wasn’t where it mattered the most for The Compound, only for me.

Staying back in Monterey was best for everyone. It meant Abel would have more time to adjust and avoid unnecessary risks. Yasmin was here. It made sense. Yet, knowing what was right didn’t make me want what I wanted even less. I met her stare with a resigned nod.

Amaia’s movements were quick, decisive, like she’d been replaying this moment in her head all day. She unrolled one of the larger maps and smoothed it across the table on top of the board. “You’re going to judge the shit out of me for this, but I’ve been busy.”

“Oh?”

Amaia being ‘busy’ could mean anything from restructuring evacuation plans to whatever this was about to be.

“Elliot has tested it out per my request up in Duluth on a smaller scale with success. So, um, I may or may not have been collecting Pansies,” she said casually. “They’re, uh, trapped in caves here, here, and here.” Amaia jabbed at points on the map without pause. “Oh, also here and here. Possibly a few right here, too, if the tide didn’t drag ‘em.”

I sat unmoving. Wondering when the hell she’d had time to collect dead people along the coastline, let alone without Alexiares or me tracking her movements.

“Not judging. Not at all.” I never judged anyone. This … this would happily be my first time. After hearing of her antics in Duluth, I thought she was done with the risky side quests. Apparently, we were all wrong to have hope.

“Imagine if—” her eyes lit up with that dangerous spark.

I cut her off, “The lead up to every bad idea you’ve ever had has started exactly like that.”

“Yep. You’re gonna hate this. Chain them around the forest.”

I stared at her, unblinking. Over the weeks I’d worked on expanding the maze we’d already constructed before our first battle with Ronan. It completely circled The Compound now. Dense and unashamedly chaotic. That didn’t make her plan any easier to digest. “You’re joking.”

“Then have the archers set them on fire,” she replied, unbothered.

“If I say this plan can’t get any worse,” I muttered, “I have an extensive amount of faith that you can—and will—prove me wrong.”

“Moving on,” Amaia continued, as if I hadn’t spoken at all. “We’re going to need every earth elemental in our troops on the front line. I know it’s a bit of a risk, but if they’re quick, they’ll finish before Ronan’s forces even arrive. I want trenches beginning ten miles out.”

“A defensive perimeter around The Compound,” I nodded, finally seeing where she was going with this.

“The only way to us is through trees or trenches,” she tapped her finger hard against the map. “Neither option is a fun time. Watch towers are for snipers only. No one crosses through our gates again.”

“You’re diabolical,” I broke into a laugh and a smile widened across her face.

“I prefer mastermind, but thank you.”

I shook my head and thought it over. “I’ll brief the night shift and have the earth elementals get moving. We’ll set fire guards to watch over them. Best to conserve ammo for when it’s critical. Our last inventory is in line with standard defense, but I’d feel better saving rounds until we can recoup or produce excess. Tomorrow morning, I’ll prepare the rest of our troops. Don’t worry. I’ve got it covered.”

“I know. I never worry with you.” The warmth in Amaia’s smile softened the edges of her usual intensity. “I suppose Luna should handle the day-to-day. There’s no reason to halt things behind the walls until it’s absolutely necessary. We just got some semblance of stability. You two make whatever call necessary once I’m gone.”

“Consider it done.”

Her breath loosened and her body relaxed. Amaia scooted the game back to the center of the table, discarding the maps onto the floor. I played my turn as she removed the coffee from the fire and poured it into two cups. She crossed the floor and grabbed cubes of sugar, dropping them in, making mine the same as hers. A habit I previously found disgusting. Amaia had found it amusing to add her own twist each time she made me a cup. Eventually, I’d seen the light in her ways. Or so she liked to tease. Her gaze settled on me as I took a sip, softening with the familial love that always caught me off guard. For so long in my life, I had yearned for it, yet she gave it to me freely.

“So,” she said, her voice lighter but still carrying the weight of the moment. “The good news, then?”

“Might want to look at the board one more time.”

I waited, watching as she leaned forward, eyes narrowing. Her brows pinched together. “Jaxon’s godmother? Jax never played until he met me. I thought you made this.”

“I did,” I said simply.

“Then wh—” Recognition set in. “Oh my … oh my fuck. Oh my fuck. You’re joking?”

“You do realize who you’re talking to, right?”

The speed with which she got up and leaped over the table to my couch was faster than the amount of time it took me to blink. She jumped onto the cushions in a childlike fashion, her hands clapping in uncharacteristic glee, then fell over her mouth to compress her screams. I rose to my feet, and she forced me into a hug that Reina would kill for the opportunity to give. Her energy lifted, genuine happiness making her glow.

“A baby!” she said after she pulled away. “Riley Sullivan, leave it to you to try to start a family in the middle of a goddamn war.”

“No time like anytime.” I let my smile free, enjoying this moment, just us. Amaia was my family and this … this is how I imagined moments went in a normal household, the kind I’d dreamed of having in The Before.

“Shit. I’m beyond happy for you, Ril. Wait … Godmother. Me?”

“You.” I placed both hands firmly on her shoulders, leaning down slightly to make sure she caught every ounce of sincerity in my gaze.

“That’s a big role,” she muttered, hopping off the couch as though the weight of it had physically propelled her to move. Her fingers tangled in her curls, a nervous habit that always seemed to surface when she was overwhelmed.

“No bigger than that of a general.”

“Jaxon?” A happy tear fell down her cheek. She was quick to wipe it away with a sniffle. “As in Jax?”

I nodded. “Jaxon Abdul Sullivan. After Jax and Mohammed. We cheated a little bit. Had Abel peek into the day of his birth.”

“Wow,” she shook her head in disbelief, moving to pace in front of the fireplace. “How do you feel?”

“Scared out of my mind,” I said. Might as well be honest. If I were going to confess it to anyone, there was no one else who’d make it easier than her. I didn’t want to burden Yasmin with such doubts.

“What? You? Scared? Psh.”

“Maia, I could really screw this kid up. You have no idea. Look how things with Elie turned out, and I was only responsible for her for 50 percent of the time.”

“That’s not fair. Don’t do that to yourself,” she said with a quick wave of her hand. “And, honestly, I’m not sure I’m the one to be dishing out advice. Given that I’m in the same boat. But this? It’s different. Some of us aren’t meant to be parents. That ‘some’ does not include you. Come on, what’s the worst that could happen? Let me hear it.”

I exhaled sharply, dragging a hand over my face. “The worst? That I bring a kid into this world just to bury them. That I can’t keep him or Yasmin safe. It’s hard enough trying to survive, let alone trying to build something worth surviving for. What happens if I screw this up? I’m already stretched thin. The Compound, the war that will last until God knows when. Then the war that comes after that war … it’s all balancing on a knife’s edge. What if there’s no room for a family in all of that? What if he grows up to resent me?”

Amaia’s jaw dropped slightly before snapping shut. She crossed her arms, her voice deliberate and firm. “Then fuck The Compound.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” She took a step closer, eyes burning, that familiar intensity returning to them. “If it ever came down to your family or The Compound, the choice is simple. The choice is the same. But you put them first. You do what you need to in order to make it back to them because you surviving is how they will survive. Jaxon’s not gonna grow up resenting you because you made a choice to give him a chance to live. If anything, that’s the most honorable damn thing you could do.”

Amaia had a way of simplifying the impossible. “Where does that leave you? The others?” I asked, voice thick with guilt. It was hard, but not impossible, to envision a world where she didn’t come first—where this family did not.

“Who cares?” Amaia stepped forward and hugged me tightly, her face resting against my chest. “I love you. You’re going to be the most amazing dad. You were made for this shit. And I seriously doubt Jaxon will grow up to hate his hero.”

“I don’t know what the future here looks like, and that’s pretty terrifying, but with Yasmin, with you and Abel … it’ll all be all right.”

For a moment, Amaia’s expression shifted—something unspoken flickered in her eyes, distant and strange. But she shook it off quickly, her trademark smirk returning as she gave my shoulder a playful shove. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Make sure you name the next one after me.”