Page 88 of Taken By the Alpha Priest

“I am,” Reyes says. “And I’m here to negotiate, if you’re willing to talk.”

Patrick twists his mouth in a sneer. “What could you possibly have that we want?”

Reyes cocks his head, a small smile on his face. “Medicine.”

A few people murmur on the other side of the gate. Enid isn’t the only one who needs meds—we have quite a few elderly folks in Homestead, too, and they need a clinic as badly as my diabetic sister.

“I can procure a reliable supply line of medical supplies from the city,” Reyes says, “if you’re willing to give us something in return.”

“Like what?”

“Livestock and fresh produce,” Reyes says. “And I can offer you something else.”

“I’m listening,” Patrick says.

“Unfiltered sunlight.”

That catches his attention, but not for the better.

“And how do you propose we make that happen?” Patrick asks. “The only way I could think of is by taking down the Celestial Curtain.”

“Exactly,” Reyes says. “I’m willing to offer air protection from the Resistance. Deliveries by helicopter. Fulll sunlight for your people.”

“How do we know you won’t just come in and take what we have?”

“Patrick,” I interrupt. “Don’t be stupid. They don’t have any interest in doing that; he wants to help Enid, to help all of us.”

“And I presume he wants to help Enid because you’re whoring yourself out to him?”

I press my lips together, forcing a measured inhale through my nose. My chest tightens with the weight of Patrick’s scrutiny, and my nerves coil tighter with every passing second. I knew this wasn’t going to go well. I knew it was a bad idea.

“My relationship with anyone in the pack has nothing to do with this,” I say, my tone sharp but controlled. “Be reasonable. This is a good deal forallof us. The Heavenly Host doesn’t give a damn about us anymore, Patrick.”

His expression hardens, the lines of his face cutting deeper. “Don’t talk that way, Tilda,” he says, his voice low, like a warning.

My frustration simmers, threatening to boil over. “We have to be pragmatic,” I say, forcing each word out carefully. “People are going to die if we don’t do something.”

Patrick crosses his arms, his stance rooted and unyielding. “I know how to take care of my people.”

Something in me snaps. “This isn’t adick-measuring contest,” I snarl, my voice rising with exasperation.

“Tilda—it’s okay,” Reyes says. He still hasn’t moved an inch. That red light is still on his chest, the tension winding up in my chest every second he’s in danger. “We can’t guarantee shipments unless the Curtain is down. We would prefer to bring you into our network so that we can move supplies quickly.”

“So you’re asking us to give up our alliance with the Heavenly Host to make an alliance with the Resistance?” David demands from inside.

“Father,” Patrick says, piggybacking on David. “You should know better than anyone—that’s sacrilege.”

Reyes grimaces, and I can sense his mounting frustration in addition to his fading hope. There’s something else there too…anger at David, rage for shooting me in the stomach all those nights ago.

“The Heavenly Host gave up on us long ago,” I hiss. I’m getting angry now. I can’t help it. “We don’t have an alliance. We’re alone.”

“But we ain’t turncoats, Tilda,” Patrick says, his voice flat and final. “My answer is no. We’re done.”

He turns to walk away, dismissing me like I’m nothing, and instinct takes over. I lunge forward, grabbing his wrist, my grip tight and desperate. It’s not a threatening movement–just one last plea for Patrick to see reason–but it sparks a chain reaction. Enid sees it, her eyes widening as she steps toward me, her voice high with panic. Reyes moves too, his massive frame shifting closer, the pull of him like gravity.

I’m caught in a storm of conflicting loyalties—between my sister’s fear, Patrick’s stubbornness, and Reyes’ steady presence. The weight of this choice—this impossible, cruel choice—crushes me.

But then, everything explodes.

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