Page 200 of Fallacies

Callan pulls me back by my shoulders, hands sliding to cup my face.

Seeing him up close is a relief I didn’t realize I needed this badly. It was easy to get lost in the motion of the mission. Easy to focus on what I had to do instead of who I was missing in the process.

But watching silver eyes dart between my own, moving too fast for me to keep up with, the part of my heart that had been missing him blooms beneath his rapt attention.

Whatever he sees on my face makes him smile. “You did it,” he murmurs.

My spine stiffens as I glance around the space, searching for the Sol who aren’t there. “They made it?”

Callan nods, brushing his thumbs across my cheekbones. “They made it, Cin.”

A rush of solace floods me, settling the tension in my muscles, and I peer around his shoulder, grinning at Pax as he approaches. Even Grey looks happy to see me, the crinkle around his eyes deepening.

I’m still smiling when I look back at Callan.

Except he isn’t.

His stare is locked on something behind me, his blissful expression shifting into something much harsher.

Fuck.

I pull out of his grip, cursing myself for having forgotten who stands behind me. Salem, mercifully, is waiting politely at the top of the hill, hands casually stuffed into his pockets.

Where Callan’s expression is sharp, his is completely indifferent. Bored, even. Which…isn’t helping.

Swallowing against the dryness in my throat, I gesture for him to come over, and something about the subtle motion amuses the Hound, the beginnings of a devilish smirk forming on his face.

As he comes down the hill, I attempt to beg him with only my eyes to cut it out.

He either can’t translate the glare or simply chooses not to listen to it.

“Um,” I turn back to Callan, “this is⁠—”

Before I can finish my sentence, Callan grabs my arm and throws me behind him.

The toe of my boot stubs the rocky ground, and Pax catches me before I fall. His narrowed eyes are on Salem too, fierce and accusatory.

The familiar sensation of static fills the air, pricking my skin, and the panic that follows sets my heart pounding.

“Wait!” I try to step around Callan, but he anticipates the movement, shifting his body before I can pass. “Callan,” I plead.

“Lucina.” His tone is sharp, with not even a sliver of room for argument. “Are you insane? He’s⁠—”

“The Hound,” I supply for him, finally escaping the shield he threw me behind.

I boldly plant myself in front of Salem, who seems content to just quietly watch the whole interaction, crystal eyes never breaking Callan’s stare.

“I know who he is,” I explain. “He…helped me. Helped us.”

Callan’s brows immediately draw together, outrage overtaking his beautiful features, “He helped you?!”

“Yes!” I enunciate each letter of the word. “I wouldn’t be standing here if it weren’t for him.”

It’s the truth. Salem saved me from the dungeons that first night, and he’s had my back ever since. I might have survived without his help, but it would have been at the expense of the Sol—there was no way I could have freed them all and kept my life.

But I can tell by the look on Callan’s face that he isn’t buying it. At. All.

“Fine,” I huff, swinging my attention to Grey. “Ask your dad.”