Page 124 of The Warrior
Khan groaned. “Don’t start, Pearl.”
“I tried to get you to slow down and you wouldn’t. It took a man with a gun to get you to sit down. I doubt it’s a coincidence.”
Khan was making circles on his temples with both index fingers. “Your loyalty to Magni is admirable, Lieutenant Franklin, but you really didn’t think this through, did you? How do you plan to tell Magni that you held a gun to my head and attacked two females in his family, one being his wife?”
Franklin exchanged a glance with the other soldier, but didn’t respond.
“What did you think was going to happen after this? We’re not hiding the Commander, and since this is not a coup, you have to let us go at some point.”
“We would rather suffer the consequences of being wrong about Magni needing our help than live with ourselves if we were right. As I said, the Commander would do the same for us.”
“Yeah, he’s a real fucking hero.” Khan threw his hands up in the air. “Just know this: if Magni was here right now, he would kick your sorry ass for wasting our time like this. And so would I, if I didn’t have two women to protect.”
Franklin frowned. “We don’t wish to hurt any of you, but we’re ready to do whatever it takes to find our Commander.”
I sat back in the sofa and crossed my legs. “Let’s hope you succeed.”
CHAPTER 32
Hero in Hiding
Magni
If not for my fucking pride, I would’ve gone back by now. It had been more than a month, and I missed Laura and Mila like crazy.
They were the first thing on my mind when I woke up and the last thing when I went to sleep. It was a constant state of worrying and longing for them. On my good days I thought about going back and convinced myself they would be happy to see me.
On my bad days, I was sure they were better off without me.
The solitude of Alaska left me alone with nothing but the torture chamber of self-reflection.
Like most of the men I’d ever interrogated during my career, my vanity and pride had refused to cooperate and admit to any blame. Instead, I’d stayed busy, focusing on improving my already great shape with an obsessive determination. I had walked on my hands, done push-ups, climbed trees, and been out hiking every day.
After four weeks of stubborn denial and resistance I’d begun to crack with the humbling realization that I was a giant shithead.
I’d promised Mila that I’d be there for her, and instead I was hiding like a coward.
I cringed to my toes when I thought about my reaction to learning about Laura having citizenship in the Motherlands. Why hadn’t I spoken to her about it? How would I live with myself if anything happened to Laura or Mila and I wasn’t there to protect them?
For years, people around me had made excuses for me, allowing me to throw tantrums like I was a fucking three-year-old. I was embarrassed to think about all the times I had thrown things around, and verbally abused people.
Two days ago, while dragging myself through deep snow, an epiphany had suddenly struck. I doubted that any of the Motlander women could have been more insightful than I was at that moment. For days I’d been asking myself why the fuck I had to be such a hothead, and then a childhood memory offered me an answer.
“He’s only five and he doesn’t like potatoes. Can’t he eat the other things on his plate?” Dina’s eyes were downturned and her hands were trembling a bit. Standing up to our father wasn’t easy.
“Stay out of this. Magni is a big boy and he doesn’t need his sister to protect him.” Our father resumed eating and when he looked up again, I still hadn’t touched the mountain of potatoes in front of me. Khan and my mother were quiet and kept their gazes down. When our father was in a certain mood, it was best not to speak or we would set him off in one of his explosive fits of rage.
“Eat the fucking food,” he repeated.
I picked up a potato and took a bite, but the damn thing grew in my mouth and I couldn’t swallow.
Dina offered me her napkin when my cheeks grew to double size and I was close to throwing up.
With a loud thud, my dad’s elbow hit the table as he leaned forward with his eyes narrowed and his knife stabbing through the air. “Did you just spit out your food, boy?”
“I hate potatoes.”
“That’s too bad, because you’re going to eat every one of them, including the part you spit out.”
