Page 5 of King of the Dawn

“I haven’t forgotten,” I told her, my jaw clenched. I would be chastened if it had come from someone else. But in the end, she was still my little sister.

She smirked, as if she knew that was a lie. How easily I had forgotten my mission. How easily I had gotten lost in the identity that bore the name of my birth. The very identity that was nothing more than a cover now.

Every day since, she proved that she was, indeed, unbroken. Strong. Capable. Level-headed beyond what I or my partner-in-secrecy, Corbin McClellan, could have ever dreamed.

When Corbin and I started Paradigm, the government organization of former spies that would break down organized crime from the inside, we could not have devised a more perfect agent than my own sister.

“You should not be the one to speak to Green,” I clenched my fist. “It is not good for you.”

Like Eve, she was not broken by the cruelty of Alastair Green.

“After all we have done together, brother...” She lifted the paper dolls in her hand, before she threw them in the fire with a menacing grin. “You should know me better than that.” She placed a hand on her hip, her tall frame glowed against the firelight.

“I will come with you.”

“Why?” Yuliya rolled her eyes.

“The woman wronged is my wife…”

“Fiancée,” one of the Murphy boys added. I wasn’t sure who, but I wanted to punch him in the throat.

I paid them no mind.

“I am your brother,” I stared into the flames, watching the white paper crinkle and curl as they were broken by the flames. “And because it will be fun.”

Chapter Three

Aoibheann

My fingers brushed along the the page that once consoled me during the times I didn’t think I would make it out alive. There weren’t any emotions tied to the action now, as I glanced out of the French doors that led to the balcony from Jericho’s room. It was purely from habit at this point. Like pouring milk in my tea.

The man who wrote the words in this book had probably moved on with his life. I imagine he had children and a wife. Did he run the bookstore that had once belonged to his father? I’m sure his life was sheltered compared to mine. I hoped that it was beautiful and ordinary. Idyllic.

I prayed he was happy.

My life was the opposite. Cold, lonely. Still, I was learning to find happiness, thanks to Jericho.

He was still asleep from the night before, and we were fast approaching the time to leave for the wedding. I spun the engagement ring on my finger while holding the book to my chest.

Ryan was a distant memory. One that kept me focused on a dream while enduring pain that I hated to recall. Jericho was my present, my future.

I smiled, realizing that spinning my engagement ring brought me more peace than the book ever had. The ring was real. It had a name, a face, a person attached to it. The book gave me nothing but the mist of hope. But Jericho was solid.

I turned back to appreciate the rolling hills. I thought of letting him sleep longer. He needed it. He’d been out into the early hours of the morning hunting for the rest of the men that got away. I’d been worried sick, unable to sleep myself, but when he returned, covered in mud and smelling of sweat and the burned flesh of the man we had set fire to, I ushered him to the shower.

I cleaned him off, got him in bed, and used warm lavender oil on his sore body until he drifted off to sleep. He slept heavily, none of his demons meeting him in his nightmares. He was peaceful, his facial features soft and… young. My heart clenched, knowing when he woke again the war would continue, and I wasn’t ready for that.

Why couldn’t these quiet moments last just a little longer? Why did they always disappear like gold dust through my fingers?

I just wanted to pause the time we had and stay in bed together. So, I didn’t wake him when it was time for breakfast. I ate in here, not wanting to leave him. I was about to ask for lunch to be brought up too. I didn’t want to spend hours on my hair and makeup. I didn’t want to be away from him.

I didn’t want to host the family members that filled the halls or make small chat over soup in the kitchen while we all pretended last night didn’t happen.

It did.

I thought about even postponing the entire event.

But… did I want to? A delay would be another day I wasn’t his wife. And I very badly wanted to be all his.

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