Page 142 of Shrapnel

“Does your seeing eye dog speak?” Jamie asked, watching Ian. The man’s eyes cut to Jamie, but he remained at his post.

“Sometimes,” Dominic answered with a little shrug. “When he has something to say.”

“Ex-military?”

Dominic laughed, slapping his knee. “I told you. I told him you were smart. You’ve always been observant.”

He had to be. Knowing the difference between tipsy and drunk, between high and happy, being able to read the room within seconds kept him alive.

“Ian is another byproduct of disloyalty. The military took him in, used him, then spit him out when he was no longer of service. The world loves a soldier until he can’t be a soldier anymore.” Dominic was speaking about the man as if he wasn’t four feet away. “He was living on the streets when he found me.”

Disloyalty.Is that what Dominic thought of Jamie? He left and that made him disloyal?

“If you have him why do you need me?”

Dominic went still. He seemed confused like the thought had never occurred to him. With the glasses covering most of his face it was impossible to read him. Something Dominic must know because his body language was stilted. Robotic. Purposefully vague. The only thing he couldn’t conceal was his hands. His fingers were constantly twitching, always on the move.

“He’s not you,” he finally answered. “No one could replace you.”

Dominic stood, crossing to Jamie easily. Not for the first time, Jamie wondered if he was truly blind. A con designed to mess with his mind.

“All those nights we spent huddled together for warmth. Or even the nights it was too hot, but we did it anyway. You used to hug my hand to your chest while you slept. I spent the nights counting your heartbeats, knowing you were safe with me.” His fingers lifted, drifting toward Jamie’s chest. “I can still feel it. That gentle beating.”

“Stop,” Jamie choked out. His heart tripped behind his rib cage as if the mere mention of Dominic knowing him like that made it stutter.

He did. His hand floated in the air between them, ethereally pale.

“I love you, little fox. You’re my family. I won’t let anyone come between us ever again.”

To punctuate his declaration, Ian racked the rifle. A threat.

“I’m here now.”

“Are you?” Dominic cocked his head.

Steeling himself, Jamie stepped forward and let Dominic’s hand land on his chest. The fingers trailed along his shirt until they stopped over the left side of his chest, splaying out until his palm was flat. He inhaled sharply.

“There it is,” Dominic said reverently. “This is where we were always meant to be. You and me. It took us longer than it should have, but we can fix it. Get it all back.”

Jamie’s skin was crawling. His lips were numb, and he was trying not to focus on the warm weight on his chest. “Get what back?”

“What we were always meant to have. Had you not left, Renard’s kingdom would have been ours.”

“What?” the word was sharp. Of all the things Jamie thought he might have said, that was the last. “You…why would you want it?”

Dominic’s fingers curled, nails digging into Jamie’s skin. “Because we deserved it,” he hissed. “Because it was meant to be. We would have grown strong, together, and taken it.”

Jamie shook his head, slapping Dominic’s hand away. He couldn’t stand it any longer. He wanted to take one of Elijah’s knives and excise the places Dominic touched.

“Why would you want that? Renard built his kingdom,” Jamie spat the last word. “On pain and lies. He profited on torture. You’d do that? Imprison people just like we were?”

Dominic shifted, facing out toward Paul’s. “Do you really feel that way?” his voice was quiet. “Do you really care about someone else? Or is that what they told you to say? WhatJamie Weaverthinks he should feel?”

Ice crept up his spine.

Was he Jamie at all?

He had dismissed it as an intrusive thought born of hyperventilation and panic. But now? Now it had grown roots. Seeded in his mind like a weed, poking out through the smallest cracks in the concrete. His breath hitched. He wasn’t born Jamie. He thought if he didn’t give his past self any thought it wouldn’t grow, hidden away behind the locks he had put on all his doors.