Final Call for Mercy

28

Annoyance was the next emotion to come over him. I cut him off before any words came out of him. "You are my head of security. I need you protecting my family here. We are your priority."

"Is that the reason why?" He challenged. "I won't let you make me fail at my job because you're afraid, Anastasia."

"Your job is to follow my orders," I answered with as much authority I could manage. From the corner of my eye, Nicolas looked away. Maybe he knew what I was thinking and knew I hated this role I had to play. That I hated when he saw it. "You stay here; that is an order. Do your job and follow it."

Elijah's head recoiled and he yanked his arm from my hand. "Yes, Boss."

I watched his back as he walked away, feeling my nails digging into my palms. Nicolas stood behind me. I could almost hear him wondering when he should approach me. The thought of it alone made my nails dig deeper into my palms. Aren't I supposed the be the one person he should never hesitate to speak to? The one person he should always feel safe talking to? Will this role, this life take that away from us forever? The chance at a safe and healthy relationship—will this life make it impossible no matter how hard we try?

I turned to him, "I'm—"

"Don't," he whispered. One hand cupped my cheek and the other wiggled its way into my own, lacing our fingers together. His breath mingled with mine as the words caressed my lips, "don't apologize."

I bit back the urge whimper. "I feel like I have to," I confessed. "I don't want you to see that side of me. I hate it. I don't want to tell him what to do. I don't want you to feel like you can't speak to me. I hate this. I hate it so much."

"You don't. You have nothing to be sorry for. You're the boss. None of us will ever bear the weight you carry. You never have to be sorry for the way you cope with it."

"My dad," the words felt like they scraped my throat on their way out. "He dealt with it better. He was respected, feared, admired. I'll never do it like him. I'm just feared and I doubt any of them fear me more than I do myself."

His brows furrowed slightly at my words. "I knew your dad long before you did. He doesn't show it—he never allowed himself to for fear that someone would see it and use it against him—but he carried the weight of his actions and his thoughts. Your dad wasn't feared and admired and respected simply for being him. He had to do things to get there. 

"Your dad carries his own cross and so do I and so do you. You have it worse because you also carry our lives. I wish I could say something to make you feel better, but only you can do that. But I understand you and I am here for you. Please know that. To me you never have to apologize for the cross you carry."

"I'm here for you, too," I promised. "Everything I do is for us. So that someday this weight lessens. So that some day we can simply live for us."

"Until then, we fight."

I smiled. "Side by side, you and me?"

He kissed my lips and dug his fingers into my hips. "Cross my heart and beg to die."

"We can do that together, too."

"But not yet."

I pressed my forehead to his and whispered, "not yet."

**

Nicolas and I walked into the room designated for the Eyes. Gabriel sat on his usual desk, with nine computer screens in front of him and glared at the wooden table as we took our seats on a couch nearby. The look on his face... Nicolas and I glanced at each other, enough to know we both thought the same thing: there's news and the line between good or bad is blurred.