“I’ll explain. I will, but not now. After.”
Gabriel starts to speak, but Jacob cuts him off. “Yep. Get things straight with the big man, then find us when you’re ready.” He lowers his voice. “That’s if he doesn’t blow your stupid fuckin’ head off first.”
Ah, Jacob. A ray of sunshine in every situation. Gabriel snorts a laugh, and it almost makes me feel better. If they can joke about it, it means it probably won’t happen. Right?
“Thanks so much for the vote of confidence.” I punch Jacob in the arm—might as well punch a wall—then speed up to catch Kendrick.
I draw level with Kendrick, and he shoots a glare my way, then turns back to the path, lips thin. The short walk takes approximately twenty years, the thick pressure of Kendrick’s anger surrounding us like a cloud. We pass through the pretty, manicured Compound gardens, but it might as well be a torn-up, post-apocalyptic wasteland. It certainly feels like the end of the world.
We finally reach Main Admin, and Kendrick presses a hand to the entry door without a word. Just that one action summons his special elevator, and it’s waiting for us when we enter the lobby. The doors slide open with an ominous hiss, and we step inside.
No. I can’t stand the silence anymore. Not in this enclosed space. “Sir, I—”
“Quiet.”
I snap my mouth closed and watch the light as it marks our glacial progress up the tower. My clothes are too tight against my hot, sweaty skin. I hate this. I’d rather a screaming fight than the sort of tense, awkward silence that marked so much of my childhood. When your parents despise each other, dinner times are not much fun.
The two Gilda soldiers outside Kendrick’s door salute as we approach, and he uses his palm to gain entry. Guarding his office has to be the most boring job in the entire Compound. Who would come here willingly? What would they do, steal the suit of armor as a prank?
The door shuts behind us, and Kendrick stalks to his desk. He sits but doesn’t suggest I do the same, so I hover, trying not to shift from foot to foot. All the lines of Kendrick’s body radiatetension, from the crease between his brows down to his steepled fingers. He stares at his desk for a long time before meeting my gaze.
His voice is soft and dangerous. “I was advised not to allow you into the Brotherhood because of your family’s connection to the Calders. Did you know that?”
No. No, I hadn’t, though it makes a lot of sense. I manage, “No, sir.”
“I overrode their objections. You’re a bright young man with a brilliant mind. I didn’t want your birth to define your opportunities.”
Each word is a hammer blow to my heart. Not many Brothers see behind Kendrick’s carefully constructed image, but I do. I’m one of the few who understands how precarious his position is. He took a risk because he believed in me.
Shit.
“I’m sorry. I—”
“Do you have any idea what this will mean?”
I do. I've gone over it a hundred ways to Sunday.
“I’ll have to restrict Brothers’ movements. Put security details on their families to prevent retaliatory attacks. Reduce external staffing levels to the absolute minimum to prevent infiltration.”
I know. I know. I know. Except he's already been infiltrated. But Kendrick's right. I've screwed the others until things settle down. I'm not going to be very popular for a while.
“Sebastian, what you’ve done today will deeply impact the life of every Brother in this Compound, including me.”
Guilt begins to wrap me in spidery webs. I open my mouth to explain, but Kendrick isn't finished.
“We've long known of the Calders. It's been an uneasy coexistence of sorts, with neither side willing to risk all-out conflict. They steal from us, and we block them. They threaten tounveil us, and we disrupt their operations until they back down. But this...” He shakes his head. “You've brought a war to our doorstep.”
Only one thing keeps me from crumbling into dust. Maggie. I did it for Maggie. Her face gives me the strength to look Kendrick in the eyes.
“I’ll take all the blame, sir, and the consequences.”
Kendrick lets out a long, weary sigh. “That’s meaningless, and we both know it.”
Of course it is.
Kendrick taps his index finger on the desk, a staccato rhythm that scrapes at my nerves. “You’re going to tell me exactly why you made this insane decision, and you’re going to do it right now.” He pauses, then flicks a hand at the uncomfortable chair. “And for the love of God, sit down.”
I do, though it hardly feels better than standing. I open my mouth, but Kendrick holds up a hand. “Straight talking, Sebastian. I don’t need you to sell this to me. Just the facts.”