“Asshole.” Griffin pulled on the vest. Far too many emotions accompanied the drag of the lightweight mesh over his T-shirt. All those pockets that had once zippered in tools of death.
When he had to let out the side straps a notch, Gwen said, “Aw, you’re not soft. Just old.”
“Great. Thanks.” Griffin was grateful for the tiny bit of levity.
The three of them stood within a companionable silence, letting their mutual past settle into the cracks of the situation. It wasn’t the first time they’d said good-bye, but each time carried its own feeling, its own baggage. It wouldn’t be their last either.
It reminded him of another recent good-bye, and why he was doing all this in the first place, making his friends’ faces pinch that way.
David’s phone rang. Looking at the screen he said, “It’s Kelse,” and ducked out of the bedroom.
Griffin watched him go, then removed the vest and folded it into the backpack.
Gwen eased down to sit on the edge of the bed. At one time, years ago, Griffin would have given just about anything to have her sit there as a prelude of something else to come, but now it just gave him a bittersweet feeling.
“It has to be me, Gwen.”
She raised her hands. “I know. Did I say anything?”
He threw her a questioning, sidelong look.
She sighed. “I think I know a little bit about taking on something huge, something only you can do. I get it. I see all the strings dangling out there—Kekona and the Senatus and the Ofarians and the Fire Source—and I get how you’re the one person able to tie them all together.” He threw the leather-wrapped knife into the backpack. Gwen bent down, getting in his direct line of vision. “I also know how hard it is, what it feels like, to be jumping around trying to get all the ends of those strings in your hands when all they want to do is fly away.”
Griffin stilled and met her sympathetic eyes. He still loved her, but in a much, much different way than before. “Thank you,” he said.
With a slap to her knees, she stood. “So what did the cabinet say?”
He whistled and shook his head. “Exactly what you’d think they’d say. Divided along the typical lines. One loves the idea of revenge, going after the woman who tried to attack us. The guy who has been against the Senatus from the get-go now loves this idea—show them we can get things done better than they can, clean up their mess, et cetera. Others want me to just butt out. My supporters are the same.” He yanked the zipper around the pack. “But none of them know the real reason why I’m going.”
“Because you want her back.”
“What—” He blinked. Several times. Then glowered. “No.”
Gwen looked at him with her special brand of patience and authority. She had the power to stand there all day. “I don’t think you’re being honest with yourself about your relationship with her.”
“Because there is no relationship. There never was. It was just sex.”
She crossed her arms. “Really.”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
Her eyebrows shot for the ceiling. “I wouldn’t?”
With a grimace, he turned away. “It’s weird, talking to you about . . . her.”
“Try me.”
Afternoon was turning to evening, and he had to get to the airport. He didn’t have time for this, yet he continued. “I can’t sit back and watch her do something this idiotic. This selfish. I don’t want her to cause anything like Aya described. I don’t want to see her hurt. Or end up dead. Despite everything, despite how we hurt each other and what happened in Colorado and what she tried to do to us, I don’t believe she deserves this. If I can stop it, if I can help her survive, I will.”
This time he hated the sympathy in Gwen’s brown eyes, so he hurriedly added, “And then there’s the Senatus. What it could mean for the Ofarians if I bring Keko back.”
“Right.” Gwen sighed, pivoting toward the door with a roll of her eyes. “The Senatus.”
“She’s worth more,” he blurted. “More than her mistakes.”
Gwen stopped and turned back around. “I fucked up, too, Griffin. We all fuck up.”
Griffin hid his wince, because not even Gwen knew what he’d done to Makaha. And maybe it was time to admit that that had been a colossal fuckup. That he should stop trying to rationalize his way out of it.
“Thank you. I kind of needed to hear that.” He slung the backpack over one shoulder. “Are you going back to Chicago?”
“I’d rather stay here and wait for you, if you want. If you need me, it’s easier to get to Hawaii from here.”
“Stay,” he said quickly. “Please.”
“I will. I’ll have Reed fly out here, too. Just in case.”
Once upon a time Griffin would’ve hated to have heard that, but now it gave him peace. “Good.”
She laid her hand on his cheek. “It’s been a really long time since I’ve seen you smile. Or laugh.” Thought lines dashed across her forehead. “Did I do that? By pushing you into leadership after we took down the Board?”
That was Gwen, humble to the core. She’d been the one to destroy the Ofarian Board. “You didn’t push me. I could’ve said no.”
Her hand dropped. “But you didn’t. And that’s what makes you a spectacular leader. Because you took on something that scared you.”
“No.” He shook his head. “I just want what I want, what I think is best. I’m stubborn and maybe a little bit selfish, not spectacular.”
She cocked her head, her blond ponytail swinging. “What do you want more? Keko or the Senatus? Because you can’t have both.”
He already knew that, but that didn’t make it any easier to hear. He searched Gwen’s face, thinking how to respond. “I want Keko alive so she can give herself another chance in life. But when it comes down to it, I just want what’s best for Henry.”
Gwen smiled, but it was tight-lipped and small. “See?” She sighed. “Spectacular.”
• • •
The road to the Chimeran stronghold on the Big Island of Hawaii was exactly as Cat Heddig had described: a treacherous, rocky, barely discernible dirt line carving up through the thick trees and undergrowth somewhere on the island’s easternmost section. By the time Griffin swung the rented four-wheel-drive SUV into the cluster of three decrepit, turn-of-last-century buildings meant to disguise the entrance to Chimeran land, his teeth ached from being consistently jarred and his stomach felt queasy from all the twists and turns and dips to get there.
Standing in the middle of the dirt road, just outside a poor excuse for a convenience store, was Bane and another male Chimeran warrior. Bane’s massive arms were crossed over his bare chest. The other warrior, shorter and leaner, had a black tattoo of whorls and lines covering one shoulder, and wore a band of white beads around his neck.
Griffin stopped the SUV in the road, the grill just feet from Bane’s unflinching stance. Griffin slid out from behind the wheel, leaving the engine running. Instantly, Secondary signatures assaulted his mind. Bane’s was nearly overwhelming, a steady thrum of power lacing itself through Griffin’s awareness. Much like Keko’s. He wondered if their family blood had something to do with the strength of their magic, if it had contributed to their rise to the top of their people.
“Bane,” Griffin said, not stretching out a hand for a shake because the larger Chimeran hadn’t unfolded his arms.
“It’s ‘General’ to you,” said the other Chimeran, stepping forward.
“Ikaika,” Bane murmured, not removing his stare from Griffin. “It’s okay. He’s here for Keko.”
The warrior named Ikaika looked as surprised at Bane’s response as Griffin felt. The two Chimerans exchanged a look, and a wordless understanding seemed to pass between them. As Ikaika nodded, falling back again, Griffin studied him.