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~Charlotte~
ON THE WARPATH.
That barely even covers it with Cal right now.
It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him like this.
That quiet, brewing rage.
That single-minded focus to the point of obsession—or possession.
The devil has come to play.
All of that is working to bury his terror, pain, and grief of knowing his daughter is in danger. Because of his enemies, no less, which adds a whole other level to it all. Guilt. I’m seeing the evidence for myself now of what he alluded to earlier, the way he’s handling that guilt. The simple fact is he’s not. He’s decimating it with action, conviction, and rage. It’s effectively numbed with the adrenaline of the current war he’s in the midst of waging.
He rode us down here like a madman. I’m all for ignoring the speed limits and all that in the midst of a mission, where necessary, but this was another level. He managed to knock almost twenty-five minutes off the forty-five-minute ride down here. Only somebody with his extreme level of experience and skill on a bike can maintain control at that insane speed.
I can see him struggling to contain himself, to keep the dangerous cocktail of fury and checked until it’s time to unleash it all over the enemy.
The problem is that day can’t actually be today. He has to restrain himself.
That’s why Spartan got involved. He doesn’t trust Cal to go that route on his own. And I highly suspect it’s why he sent this particular guy of his down in his stead, not merely for his sharpshooting skills.
Finn “Wraith” Jones, the Sergeant-at-Arms of Iron Kings. Ten minutes ago, we arrived here in the motel room he’s hauled up in, his sniper rifle in position at the open window that looks out over the parking lot of the Sundown Motel. He’s hyper-focused on the mission before him, eerily calm.
He reminds me of myself during my heyday.
“Quit your pacing. I need full concentration,” Wraith tells Cal over his shoulder, who’s still pacing up and down the motel room while we all wait for Roxana to drive into the lot.
“Kinda hard to do,” Cal says, managing to slow down a little, but still pacing, nonetheless. “Rode like a bat out of hell down here and I was expecting to be thrown into the fight right off the bat. Not this. Not waiting around like useless shits while my daughter’s out there fighting for her life all alone.”
“She’s more than a clueless civilian,” Wraith points out. “She used to rule this city not long ago.”
“Well, she’s out of practice right now,” Cal shoots back.
Wraith eyes him over his shoulder. “Good thing her father’s the devil then.” He offers a smile, albeit a tight one. It’s clear he doesn’t want emotion of any kind bleeding through right now, but he also feels for Cal’s predicament, so he’s warring with it. He’s not the only one.
Cal manages to think through his rage and panic and give him a chin lift. “Yeah, it is.”
Wraith eyes me. “Nice gear,” he comments, referencing that the both of us are decked out in heavy-duty tactical gear. “Pleasure meeting the legendary Kingmaker, by the way.”
“The same goes for you, Wraith. Your exploits are infamous.”
“Dangerous and off the rails more like,” Cal says, clearly worried about the monster aspect of Wraith’s reputation while we’re dealing with such a volatile situation.
“None of that will be happening today. That’s not why I’m here. I’m not even going hand-to-hand, just sniper-duty and overwatch.”
“What’s her status?” I ask Cal, refocusing the conversation.
“According to her tracer, she’s gonna come hurtling in here any second,” he tells me. “I’m gonna take position right the hell now. No more waiting.” He bolts ahead of me for the motel room door.
“That’s not a good idea,” Wraith grinds out.
No, it’s not. Far from it.
I react quickly, snagging Cal’s arm, and jerking him back to me before he breaks our cover and exposes us all.
He hisses at me stopping him.
