Page 130 of The Devil We Know

I'm not so convinced. Lilith, even Tony, a man who is well-known for being able to rationalize necessity, a sacrifice for the betterment of mankind, is battling the sacrifice that feels too great to comprehend.

By the time we were forced to abandon the search, Kaian had received word that all of the individual missions were successful.

This means a huge chunk of the criminal underworld was officially handicapped, some of them even completely out of business.

Any excitement I may have had over this achievement feels muted by the gaping void of our personal loss that’s too painful for us to even begin to celebrate.

A crash on the other side of the room draws my attention. I rise from the chair I've been sprawled in for the last hour, walking across the room to Tony as he rage-smashes another computer.

Normally, I would be upset by this, but my own urge to indiscriminately smash inanimate objects tempers my annoyance.

I stop a few feet from Tony, watching the various emotions run through him, taking note of each one and how it feels within me.

Rage is the simplest emotion to manage. It runs hot and thick through your veins, an electric current keeping at bay the sticky emotions you prefer to avoid.

Sadness. Bitterness. Grief.

Carolina’s standing off to the side, looking as grief-stricken as the next person, but she's not stunted by the life-long conditioning of burying your feelings.

Her eyes are glassy, and tears stream freely down her cheeks as she looks on helplessly. Her eyes meet mine, and I mouth silently, “I’ve got him.”

Her small smile is grateful, though close-lipped and sad. Then she turns silently, making her way to where Lilith, Issa, and Jessica are sitting.

Another crash drives my attention back to Tony. He’s now standing there, wild-eyed, having run out of things to smash. He outright bellows in fury, the outer limits of the sound tinged with anguish.

He twists around, obviously looking for something else to grab. When he comes up with nothing but air, he spins back, losing his balance and toppling to the floor.

He catches himself on his hands and knees, suddenly becoming still and quiet. I close the distance between us, dropping to my knees beside him, resting both of my palms on the top of my thighs as I await his next move.

“It wasn't supposed to be like this,” he whispers harshly.

“You're right. It wasn't.”

"Part of me doesn't wanna believe it. Part of me feels the mere idea that this is our new reality is completely preposterous and impossible.”

“Same.”

He pushes his upper body back and swings his legs around so he’s sitting on the floor with his knees bent. He leans forward, crossing his forearms across the top of his bent knees as he hangs his head. “This fucking hurts, man.”

“Fucking right, it hurts," Declan interjects as he seats himself next to Tony, throwing an arm over his shoulder and yanking him closer.

Tony stares at him with watery eyes, snorting as he attempts to shake him off. “Get the fuck off of me, Dec.”

“No.”

I laugh, a bit envious of Declan's ability to manage his emotions given any situation. Complete transparency has always been his baseline, and today will be no different.

He looks at me, and the distinct lack of hope in his eyes cuts me like a knife. Pain rockets through me; my attempt to choke it back down only makes it more shocking. Tony shakes his head as he says, “I’m scared letting myself grieve is like giving up hope.”

Declan's arm around his shoulders tightens as he gives him a little shake and says softly, “Grief and hope go hand-in-hand, Tony. Sometimes, the only way to survive the pain is to let it rip you open.”

I can count on one hand the number of times I've ever witnessed Tony shed a tear. And even with those times, I likely have a few fingers to spare.

Now, I likely won't have enough fingers to keep count.

Tony inhales a ragged breath, immediately expelling it as tears begin to fall with such ferocity they don't even have a chance to touch his skin. I watch them fall into his lap, giving up my idiotic idea that I’m capable of holding the tears back.

It's quiet; there are no wailing sobs or anguished screams.

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