Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Monroe

Ihave never run from a fight in my life. What just happened with Broderick can hardly be called a fight, and yet I feel like I’m fleeing it all the same as I step into the library with him shadowing my steps. My body still tingles with the aftermath of that orgasm, only made stronger by the few I had last night with Shiloh.

They’re using me as a battleground between them.

It was what I intended all along. The moment I realized how deep the emotions ran between those two, how determined they were to avoid stepping on that particular landmine, I planned to dance all over their buttons.

What I didn’t intend?

To feel…strange while doing it.

Neither of them really want me. They want each other, and I’m the inciting event that will end with them fucking. I’ll go down at the footnote in their relationship, assuming they both survive what comes next. Sabine Valley is not a peaceful city, and the forced truce between the Raiders and the other two factions will only hold the year.

If that.

There are no guarantees in this life, especially in this city.

I just… I didn’t expect to like Shiloh so much. I meant every word I said to her about being the conductor of justice for the harms committed against her as a child. Even thinking about it has anger simmering inside me. I have few lines—one can’t be precious when they’re going to be the next queen of the Amazons—but harming children is an unforgivable offense. Shiloh was right; we’ve had our share of predators in the Amazon faction. But we do not victim-blame, and we do not make excuses for them so they can harm more innocents.

We make fucking examples of them.

Obviously I know the greater world isn’t like that. I can’t say the rest of Sabine Valley conducts itself in the same way. But knowing that Shiloh experienced torture at her parents’ hands…

I clench my fists. I want to see them burn.

“Monroe?”

I give myself a mental shake and have my expression under control by the time I turn to face Broderick. “Yes, husband?”

He searches my face. I’ve never seen a person so conflicted with themself. His identity seems to be so wrapped up in being the calm Paine, the rational brother, that he doesn’t seem to realize that he loves being harsh and brutal. No one can fake how he is with me. Especially when he seems to hate it so.

Right now, he’s feeling irrational guilt and wondering if he pushed me too far in the hallway. I should leave him hanging, should twist the knife every chance I get and use that guilt to manipulate him. It’s what my mother would do, what I’d advise any other Amazon to do in this situation. I am not without weapons, but I’d be a fool to turn away from one so potentially lucrative.

I don’t know why I open my mouth and say, “We’re good, Broderick.”

Instantly, his expression shuts down. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh? You weren’t just whipping yourself for being a big, bad villain and forcing yourself on poor, defenseless me?”

He flinches. “That’s nothing to joke about.”

“You’re right. It’s not.” I can’t quite help myself. I close the distance between us and run my hands up his chest. I lower my voice, until he has to lean down to catch my words. “Broderick, if I didn’t want what you do to me, I would gut you and leave you to bleed out in the hallway. No one, not any of your brothers, not a single Raider in this faction, not even Shiloh, could stop me.”

He doesn’t relax. “I’m bigger than you. Stronger.”

Gods, this man’s respectable streak is tiresome.

Even knowing it will give away my edge, I bend down, dip my hand into the open edge of my boot and draw the long knife I lifted off Shiloh when she wasn’t paying attention the other day. “I would have gutted you,” I repeat.

Broderick blinks. “You have a knife.”

“Yes.” Nothing more to say to that. With a sigh, I turn the knife around and offer it to him, hilt first. “I suppose you’ll be taking this, since it’s a prohibited item for a Bride to have and all that.”

He gets a strange look on his face. “Keep it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Promise me you won’t stab someone without cause, and you can keep it.”

Now it’s my turn to blink. Surely he’s not going to actually let me keep the knife. It’s a weapon, and Broderick isn’t the kind of fool who hands his enemies weapons without a fight. “Define cause.”

“Monroe.”

I sigh. “Okay, fine. I won’t stab someone unless I feel directly threatened. Is that good enough?”

This is where he crushes my fledgling hope, dim though it is, and tells me that no way will he allow me to keep it, promise or no. What good is the word of an Amazon to a Raider, after all? But he simply nods. “Good enough. Now put that away before your uncle and sister get here.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll wait outside while we talk.”

He gives me the look that question deserves. “I will give you the relative privacy of reading a book over there while you talk.” He points at a short chair tucked back within the bookshelves.

It’s far enough away from the couches and chairs in the center of the room that it should actually offer privacy, but I’ve spent more evenings than I care to count in the last three weeks wandering this library. The acoustics are such that any conversation held within this room seems to echo to each corner of it.

As soon as I realized that, my fantasy of fucking Shiloh against some bookshelves went up in smoke—at least if we didn’t want to get caught.

I slip the knife back into my boot and give Broderick a brilliant smile. “Works for me.” I don’t actually expect my family to have much in the way of information to impart. They’ve been trapped in this place, collateral against my good behavior while I travel back and forth from the Amazon faction. Still, there’s plenty of gossip to share, and I just miss Winry. We’ve only seen each other a handful of times since Lammas, almost always with the other Brides around.

If Cohen’s mistreating her, I’ll fucking kill him.

I don’t have to wait long for Winry to show. My little sister is practically glowing, her pale cheeks pink and her blond hair looking particularly bouncy. Oh, she has a bitchy look on her face, but she’s obviously not suffering through being a Bride or being tortured by Cohen. That’s something at least. She’s wearing a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt, both of which I’m certain aren’t hers. They dwarf her curvy body, baggy in a way that can’t be intentional. I frown at them. “Are you stealing Cohen’s clothing?”

She blushes a bright red. “These are Maddox’s, actually.”

I stare. “You’re wearing the clothing of your husband’s best friend.”

If anything, she gets redder. “Don’t you dare accuse me of causing problems, Monroe. It’s not like I’m sneaking around behind Cohen’s back.”

I didn’t think my little sister could shock me. Apparently I was wrong. Obviously, I knew she was sharing room with both men, but sharing more than that? “I’m going to need you to explain yourself.”

“I’m going to need you to mind your own damn business.” She crosses her arms over her generous chest. “You’re in enough trouble as it is.”

I’m about to ask her what the fuck she’s talking about, but our uncle chooses that moment to walk into the room. Jasper, quite frankly, looks like shit. He’s lost weight since I saw him last, and he wasn’t a particularly large man to begin with. His beard has also become long and almost unkept. If not for the clean clothes on his body, he might be mistaken for some mountain man wandering into the city by accident. His smile when he sees us, though, is bright enough. “Hey, girls.”

“Uncle Jasper.” Winry throws herself at him, hugging him for all she’s worth. He was a late-in-life baby for our grandmother, so he’s only a few years older than me and seven years older than Winry. She’s been greeting him exactly like this ever since she could walk.

He keeps an easy arm around her shoulders and walks over to pull me into a hug, too. “How are you holding up?” he murmurs.

“Oh, you know me. Causing chaos and sowing discord.”

Jasper gives me a long look and then glances over my shoulder to where I can practically feel Broderick drilling a hole in the back of my head. “Your groom is spiraling.”

“Pity. I can’t imagine why.”

Instead of laughing like I expect him to, he sighs. “I’m not one to tell you how to go about your business, Monroe. Aisling has taught you well, and you’re more than ready to take over running the faction.”

I raise my brows. “I’m sensing a but coming.”

“But.” He lowers his voice. “You can’t afford to underestimate the Paines. You were still so damn young when they were run out of town. Don’t bite off more than you can chew.”

I blink. Of all the people I might have expected to underestimate me, Jasper never numbered among them. He’s the perfect Amazon, especially when it comes to supporting the women in the family. “It’s not like you were that much older than me, Grandfather Time. You were only twenty-two.”

“Old enough to make decisions I regret.”

I wonder about that. Best I can tell, he’s been pretty damn happy with Beatrix of the Mystics for the last eight years. No one on the outside looking in would begin to guess that he still had unresolved feelings for Ezekiel Paine.

That’s personal, though.

“I was briefed on the history,” I finally say. For all that I was technically named second-in-command when the coup happened, the truth is more complicated. I spent most of that year being run ragged while learning the ropes of the company my mother is CEO of. It wasn’t until later that I was also trained on some of the more brutal aspects of running our faction. I didn’t know the assault on the Paine family was going down until after it had already happened.

I never thought to be grateful for that, but I find myself exhaling slowly all the same.

Still, Jasper’s lack of faith hurts. “I can take care of myself.” I glance from him to Winry. “I’m more worried about you two. Your pairings are both…not ideal.”

“I have it under control.” They say it together and then share a rueful look.

Jasper clears his throat. “Obviously being Ezekiel’s Bride is challenging, but it’s fine.”

Winry tucks her hair behind her ears. She’s blushing again. “Cohen is an asshole, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“An asshole,” I repeat. Cohen Paine is a whole lot more than an asshole. He’s a fucking monster. I don’t use that word lightly, but it’s the truth. Every faction has people who have to be willing to do the dirty work. I try not to issue any orders that I won’t be able to do myself, especially if it involves blood on someone’s hands, but some tasks aren’t possible for a queen to do herself. Cohen serves that purpose for Abel. “Winry—”

“You need to worry about yourself,” Jasper says in a low voice. “I don’t care how capable you are, Monroe. You’re in over your head. Don’t try to break the Bridal peace.”

I snort. “Do you know my mother at all?” The topic hasn’t come up yet, but it’s only been three weeks since Lammas. It will sooner or later. My mother has never been one to sit back and let a situation unfold without her input. She’s still furious that Abel Paine pulled one over on us, which means she’ll be angling for some kind of revenge before too long. As her heir, I support her in whatever way she sees fit, whether I agree with it or not.

“The handfasting between a victor and their Bride is a tradition that goes back to the beginning of Sabine Valley. Not even Aisling should fuck with that, and you’re smart enough to know it.”

“Some traditions were made to be broken.” I don’t believe it, even as I say it.

Jasper holds my gaze. “Not this one. No matter who got their pride stung with what happened Lammas night, the fact remains that the Paine brothers are more than justified in wanting revenge for what happened the night of their exile.”

“And yet not a single one among their Brides had anything to do with giving those orders.”

Winry snorts. “You know why they did that.”

Yeah, I do. What better way to punish the responsible parties than by taking their loved ones? It’s rather genius in its cruelty, and I might admire it if my family weren’t wrapped up in the mess.

My mother still hasn’t told me what the fuck she was thinking all those years ago, throwing her support in with Deacon Walsh, of all people. Everyone knew that the Paine brothers’ father, Bauer Paine, was dangerous and unpredictable, but Deacon Walsh was hardly better. If he hadn’t died a few years after taking over the Raider faction, if his son Eli weren’t a better leader, Sabine Valley would have been in even worse shape than it originally was. My mother is an expert tactician. Why the hell did she make that call?

Now she’s got egg on her face, and she wants the responsible parties to pay. Which, of course, I agree that the Paine brothers need to pay—especially Broderick. It’s just… I gave my word to Harlow that I wouldn’t stab them in the back. Even considering such an option puts my sister and uncle in danger. It doesn’t matter that Cohen hasn’t traumatized Winry and Jasper seems to be dealing with Ezekiel well enough; neither of them can stand against Abel if he decides to punish me for stepping out line.

The reminder makes my stomach tight. I paste a smile on my face. “Don’t worry about it. I have everything under control.”

I hope like hell that I’m not lying.