Page 12 of Love the Way You Lion (Rise of the Resistance #3)

I can’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for Taurus.

To be so close, yet so far from the one you love—it’s a torment I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy.

His desperation is a mirror to our collective resolve; we will move heaven and earth to bring her back.

It’s not just about strategy anymore, it’s personal.

And when things get personal, all bets are off.

The clink of the glass as Taurus sets it down punctuates his last word, and for a moment, there’s nothing but silence and heavy breaths in the room.

I watch Rafe, who’s been quiet—a statue in this tempest of emotion—finally move.

His gaze lifts from the shadows that seem to cling to him like an unwanted second skin, meeting Taurus’s bloodshot eyes.

“She won’t grieve until she’s taken care of everyone else,” he whispers, voice barely carrying over the tension that hangs thick between us.

“Sari knows that. She hasn’t once come looking for me, nor did she ask for me to sit with them during the service.

The cat is her new lifeline.” Rafe’s fingers twitch at his side, betraying the calmness in his voice.

“We need to get her home. We have to get her home.”

The urgency in Rafe’s whisper cuts through the fog of anger and helplessness, grounding us with its stark reality. It’s not just a mission, it’s a plea—one that resonates with all the unspoken fears we’ve been harboring since this nightmare began.

Talia and Taurus exchange a glance, charged with an electric current that seems to arc through the air.

It’s a silent communication, an understanding born of shared torment and the intimacy that only those who have faced darkness together can truly comprehend.

Their eyes lock, speaking volumes in the briefest of moments—a confirmation of the unsaid suspicions that have been brewing beneath the surface.

The gravity of their shared knowledge weighs heavy, an invisible shroud that drapes over our gathering, binding us together in our collective resolve.

We are a unit, fractured by circumstance and yet forged stronger in the fires of adversity.

Whatever is happening between our two and those two, it’s a catalyst, propelling us toward action with a renewed sense of determination.

I lean back in my chair, feeling the pieces of this twisted puzzle slotting into place with each passing second. The truth may be murky, the path fraught with peril, but one thing is crystal clear: we will bring her home or die trying. At that moment, there’s no other option I can entertain.

Rafe’s voice was an indistinct murmur, tinged with the raw edges of pain and determination.

I can’t help but watch him, noting the set of his jaw, the slight tremor in his hands as he tries to veil his turmoil.

His words about Deli not grieving until everyone else is taken care of resonate with a profound truth that only someone deeply connected could understand.

I see the fear in his eyes, a fear that the emotional vampire has sunk her teeth too deep into his mate, and it’s a chilling thought.

“Unlike us,” I muse silently, “they don’t grasp the full extent of the danger.

But who are we to shatter their hopes with our knowledge?

” It’s a secret burden, one we carry with the heaviness of shadows clinging to our souls.

Still, Rafe seems oddly anchored, despite the chaos swirling around him.

Perhaps it’s because he’s already walked through the darkest alleys of his mind and come out unscathed, but alive.

Or maybe it’s because Deli, the unexpected lifeline, is still within reach, providing a glimmer of light in an otherwise suffocating gloom.

I push back my chair; the sound scraping against the silence that has fallen like a curtain over the room. Standing, I let my gaze sweep across the faces of my companions—each one etched with lines of frustration and resolve.

“Okay,” I declare, my voice slicing through the tension, “We all agree that no plan is perfect and none have a good chance of success.” I pause, locking eyes with each person at the table.

“But look at us—we’re a storm of brainpower, experience, and raw, seething anger. That’s got to be worth something.”

I clench my fists, feeling the energy pulsing in the room, feeding off our collective fury. “I, for one, refuse to let that mangy mutt outsmart me.” The challenge is obvious, thrown down like a gauntlet on the cold hard ground of our reality. “Who’s with me?”

The question hangs in the air, thick with implication and the unspoken bond that ties us together. We’re bound by more than just this mission—we’re bound by a need to protect what’s ours, to reclaim a piece of ourselves from the jaws of defeat .

“Me.” The word is a whip crack, and we all startle as Talia’s fist comes down hard on the table. The thud resonates, a sharp punctuation to the challenge I threw into the space between us.

Everyone’s eyes swivel toward her, drawn by the sudden assertion of her presence.

There’s no mistaking the iron in her tone, the steel in her spine as she squares her shoulders.

Talia is a force unto herself—her determination practically a palpable entity in the room.

Taurus, standing rigid by the bar, his jaw clenched tight enough to grind stone to dust, hesitates for a heartbeat.

It’s as if he’s measuring the weight of her words, gauging the fire behind them before he moves.

“Pull up a chair,” she says again, and it’s not a suggestion. Her command slices through any lingering doubts or second thoughts.

He obliges, dragging a chair with a scrape that echoes off the walls, its noise a minor testament to the storm brewing within him. As Taurus settles down, there’s a collective tightening around the table—a silent acknowledgment of the task at hand.

We’ve got work to do, indeed.