Page 106 of Ronan

“No, but I didn’t save her either.” The guilt in his voice is a palpable thing, and he swallows roughly. “The Commander came in and grabbed her, and it was too late. I was ready to jump in if he tried to drag it out—give her the dignity of a fast death if it came down to it, but he wasn’t in the mood to play with his toys that day.”

“How’d he do it?”

“Cam…” he whispers, sounding pained.

“How?!” I demand, fingernails digging into my thighs through my pants.

“Slit her throat. It was quick.”

Tears well in my eyes as I nod and take a shuttering breath. “Blonde hair? Most likely wearing a long dress with an apron tied around her waist?”

His head snaps towards me, a look of utter confusion on his face. “What—”

“She was probably humming before the attack started. If she was inside, she was cooking or canning, because otherwise she would’ve been in the garden.”

“Cameron, how do you…?” His voice cracks as he trails off, like he can’t bear to finish that question. A choked, wet laugh escapes me as a tear sneaks from my eye.

“This was my village, Ronan, and that house?” Our eyes land on it in sync. “That was my home. That woman was my mother.”

Chapter 33

Ronan

There are moments in life where time stands still.

I once believed this was a lie… a dramatic flourish used by poets and songwriters. Something that sounds so beautiful but lacks real substance.

A convenient falsehood.

But as I track that single tear that paints a watery trail down Cameron’s cheek, the world around us freezes, and time no longer exists.

My mind races as panic claws at my chest, and I’m desperately searching for flaws in Cameron’s argument, frantic for any reason he might be wrong.

I can’t be the one responsible for the destruction of his home.

Ican’t.

But even as I search for excuses, my heart knows it’s true.

“I was out hunting the day the attack happened,” he whispers, swiping at the tear, and another contrite laugh blows from his lips. “Gods, I was a terrible hunter. Couldn’ttrack for shit… probably couldn’t tell if someone was following me, either.” He takes a few deep breaths, calming himself before meeting my eyes, and I can’t read what’s written inside them. “You said your platoon tracked a hunter back? That’s how you found the village?”

The world fast-forwards as realization hits me, time ticking away once again as I shake my head. “Cameron, no. Whatever self-blaming bullshit you’re about to unleash? Don’t say it. Don’t even fucking think it.”

He lets out a harsh snort, a leer playing on his lips while his gaze stays locked on the houses. “Just answer the question. Was it a hunter that led your troops to the village? Was it ahunterthat allowed them to be slaughtered?”

“Yes,” I whisper, and he nods, mouth pulling tight and eyes squeezing closed. “But it wasn’t you.”

“Oh, come on!” He jumps to his feet, and I scramble to follow. “Do not patronize me. You’ve never bothered trying to spare my feelings before, so don’t fucking start now.”

“That’s not what I’m doing. Cameron, I understand this is a lot to take in, butlisten to mewhen I say it wasn’t your fault.”

“How can you know that?!” he bellows, shoving at my shoulders, and I let him push me back a step.

“Because itwasn’t! The hunter they followed back was killed.” He’s reaching for me again when the words hit him, so instead of pushing me, he stumbles and falls against my chest. I wrap my arms around him and hold him there, forcing him to listen. “The trackers trailed a bald man with a long gray beard, and he was at the village, still cleaning his kills, when we invaded. It wasn’t you.”

His quiet sob is muffled against my chest as the fight disappears from his body, and he sags against me. “It wasn’t my fault?”

“No, mo’sziv, it wasn’t your fault.” Stuttering, gasping breaths shake his shoulders as the dampness of his tears soaks into my shirt. I hold him there, refusing to let go.

---