Page 146 of Warlord's Plaything

His voice hits me like a hammer to the chest.

"And they want you next."

I stagger back.

The paper falls from my grip.

The torchlight flickers, casting the evidence in a golden glow.

Mocking me.

I was blind.

I wanted to believe.

I wanted to have something to fight for.

Now—

Now I have nothing.

"You don’t understand."

The words are hoarse, forced past my throat.

I don’t know who I’m trying to convince.

Him?

Or myself?

Xyron laughs, sharp and bitter.

"No, I understand perfectly."

He steps closer.

Too close.

"I understand that you’re about to walk into their fucking hands, gift-wrapped and bound, because you still think there’s a way out of this that doesn’t end in blood."

"What the fuck else am I supposed to do?"

I don’t mean to yell.

But it happens anyway.

I don’t have the answers.

I can’t fucking win.

Because everything I do is wrong.

"Do you want me to sit here? Do nothing? Let our people die? Let this rebellion burn?"

"I want you to stop trying to destroy yourself!"

His voice booms, shakes the walls, shakes my fucking bones.

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