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“No, of course not, but-”
“Exactly,” I snapped.
Theo frowned. “Not exactly. It wasn’t any orders she ignored; she was trying to help. To save us, both of us. And she didn’t put anyone else in danger, so what the hell are you talking about?”
“She put herself in fucking danger!” I yelled. “She could have been injured, or knocked unconscious, she could have fuckingdrowned, or even, I don’t know, been dragged away and eaten for fucks sake!”
“Yeah, she did,” returned Theo, his own voice raising. “And she did it to save you, and you can’t even be grateful for it. You’re talking fucking shit, Alastor. That thing had you, and you’d have drowned if she hadn’t gone back down, and you fucking know it.”
I shook my head. That wasn’t the point. Why couldn't he see that it didn’t matter?
“She disobeyed orders, put herself in danger and she’s off the fucking team. I want her behind a desk for the rest of this mission and then she’s gone.”
“Is that really necessary?” asked Carlisle. “She clearly thought she was acting for the good of the team. Maybe just a little reorientation-”
“No, she’s gone. Out of my fucking life.”
“Maybe you should sleep on it, Alastor,” said Carlisle gently. “See how you feel in the morning. She might deserve another chance. You're in pain, and you’re exhausted and not thinking clearly-”
Before I could retort, Theo stepped closer, his anger palpable. "You can't pull her from the team, Alastor," he growled, his jaw set hard. "She's an asset. If you can't see that, then you're the idiot."
Blood pounded in my ears, a relentless drumbeat echoing the rage that throbbed through me. I stepped closer to him, looking down, his eyes gold, giving away his own emotion, as he met my glare with one of his own.
"Are you seriously questioning my judgement?" I spat.
"Maybe I am," Theo shot back, his voice low and steady, carrying none of the laid-back demeanour he usually carried like a shield. The air between us crackled with tension, thick enough to slice through.
I clenched my jaw, trying to keep my temper under control. I could already feel the hound rising in me, my fingertips itching from the claws beneath the surface, the prickle of spikes down my spine. But I couldn’t lose it. I wouldn’t.
"This isn't like you, Theo. Since when do you second-guess my calls?"
"Since I started seeing things clearly," he countered swiftly. "And since you stopped seeing them. It’s obvious, Alastor. Whether you chose it or not, Sariel got under your skin. It's messing with your head, and your judgement."
The accusation struck a nerve and my rage burned hotter. "My judgement's fine!" I barked. My voice louder than I’d planned, snarling and vicious.
"Easy, Alastor." Carlisle said, stepping between us "Theo's got a point, mate. You don't usually snap like this. What's eating at you?"
I rounded on him, muscles coiled tight, every fibre of my being screaming to lash out, to silence the doubts, the fears—the damned truths I couldn’t face. It was the pain, the drugs, the heat of Jordan’s sun—anything but what they claimed.
"Nothing's eating at me.'" The words were clipped, more growl than speech. "I'm in control."
"Sure you are." Carlisle had seen too much, knew too much about me. Right now, I hated him for it. "But when's the last time your temper flared from zero to inferno over a bit of backtalk?"
"Backtalk?" I scoffed.
"Alastor," he pressed. "Talk to me."
The silence in the tent was thick and coiled tight as a spring as I paused, trying to find the words. I wasn’t really one for talking.
"Spit it out, Alastor," Theo finally growled. "Tell him."
I gritted my teeth, not wanting to voice the truth again.
"She's my fated mate," I said, each word forced out like shards of glass.
"Mine too," Theo added.
Carlisle's eyebrows shot up. "Both of you?" His voice was a mix of incredulity and concern. "That's..."
