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Maddoc keeps all emotion out of it as he dresses Luis down, and while I get what he’s doing and why every man present needs to hear it, it hits me as he’s talking that I don’t know what my place is here. I guess I don’t technically have one, but I… care.
I don’t want to walk away even though I’ve got nothing to contribute here. And even though I stayed out of danger during all the shooting—stayed in the Escalade because when Maddoc told me to, his walls came down, just for a second, just long enough for me to see that heneededme to—I still feel raw from everything that happened today.
It affected me, and my emotions are in turmoil.
Once Luis finishes talking, looking wrecked and guilty after laying out just how stupidly he acted even if it sounds like it really was all Payton’s idea in the first place, Maddoc addresses the whole room, taking a moment to make eye contact with every Reaper as he speaks. “Every single one of you swore your allegiance to me. You did it for a reason, and I take those oaths seriously. But make no mistake, Iamyour leader. I run the Reapers. When you go behind my back, this is the kind of shit that happens. Is that clear?”
They all murmur their assent, and Maddoc turns back to Luis.
“You fucked up, and we lost one of our own. There will be consequences for today’s shit show. Consequences to our entire organization for the escalation with West Point, and consequences for you, personally.”
Luis swallows hard, but straightens his shoulder and nods. “Whatever I’ve gotta do.”
Maddoc’s jaw clenches again, but then he relaxes it. “Blood for blood. We’ll take care of it at the Yauger building, and then you’ll be doing perimeter runs until further notice, the midnight shift.” He pauses. “Once Shane clears you.”
Luis doesn’t argue, and I can only guess that “blood for blood” means some kind of… physical punishment. Which of course has me thinking of the “consequences” Maddoc gave me when I was the one who fucked up. Not that whatever punishment he’s just assigned Luis will be anything like that, obviously, but still, I’ve got no doubt that he belted me for the same reason he’s being hard on the young Reaper.
Because Maddoc feels responsible.
Because he cares.
Because he really is a good leader. The kind who deserves all the loyalty he gets.
Before everyone files out, Maddoc tasks them all with spreading the word throughout the organization.
“Every one of you needs to grow eyes in the back of your fucking heads,” Maddoc says grimly. “What went down today is all on West Point for grabbing Troy first, but McKenna will take any excuse to escalate, so be extra careful and vigilant out there from now on.”
“How about we just wipe out the weasels once and for all, so we don’t have to worry about that shit anymore?” one of the Reapers suggests.
Maddoc pins him with a hard stare. “How about you follow my fucking orders? And right now, those orders are not to go after West Point. Not yet. It’s my job to know when, where, and how to take the fight to them, and that’s not today.”
There’s a little bit of grumbling, but none of them argue.
That’s clearly not good enough for Maddoc, though.
“No one pulls any more Lone Ranger shit, is that clear?” he demands. “No one else acts without my say so.”
This time, they all agree more forcefully, and I stay out of the way as they finally leave. Maddoc stands like a statue, rigid and tense as he watches everyone file out, but the moment the door closes behind the last of them his shoulders slump.
One hand goes to the back of his neck, massaging the tension there. I know it’s not something he’d ever let himself do in front of his people, and even though he hasn’t said a word to me, isn’t looking my way at all, I know that he knows I’m here.
Which means he’s letting me see him like this.
He’s letting his guard down, now that it’s just the two of us.
I swallow down a lump in my throat, fighting with my emotions. We’ve got so much fucking baggage between us, but seeing Maddoc so wrecked, so obviously hurting, makes my heart ache.
I’m not supposed to care about him. He’s supposed to be my enemy. But I just can’t see him that way right now. I want to help.
He sighs, his hand falling away from the back of his neck, and it hits me hard when I realize that it still has Payton’s blood on it. Not just his hands. It’s all over him.
I go into the kitchen and wet a towel with warm water, not letting myself think too hard about why it feels so right to do this.
Maddoc hasn’t moved. He seems dazed and a bit out of it, and I can’t blame him.
“Riley?” he rasps out, when I reach for one of his hands and start wiping the blood off. “What are you doing?”
I turn the hand I’m holding over, carefully running the damp towel between each finger. “I’m cleaning you up.”
