Page 22 of Inextricably Tied

Flint tries not to flinch at the way she says it, like it’s a creature that followed her home.

Yeah. I’m curious about that, too.

But Flint has to laugh. He has to, because it’s the most ridiculous thing she’s ever said, but no sound comes out of him. All he can do is stare, as if she’s suggesting stripping down and rolling across the lot in her bare skin.

“He’s not from this world,” she tries. Making excuses. “He doesn’t know how things work here. All he has to work off of is Reid, and only the gods know how fucked up that is. Agony didn’t even know if he could eat.”

“He tried to kill you.”

“I don’t think he did.”

Flint throws his hands in the air, pacing away from the car. He wants to circle the parking deck, take a lap around the building. Maybe he’ll come back to this conversation where Harbinger makes a shred of sense. “He’s evil. You can’t domesticate him.”

“I know how it sounds.” Her voice is slow. Measured. Leaves Flint feeling absurd for wanting to protect her. For wanting to get rid of the thing who had her throat in a chokehold hours ago. “I know what I felt. And we need to finish this job so we can get that payout.”

“We don’t have to finish it! We got payment up front.” But it’s not a solution. The OID isn’t going to let them take the money and run. The muscles in Flint’s neck tense, jaw ticking when he turns back to face her. “No amount of money is worth this.”

“Maybe not,” she concedes. “But it’s worth it to bring those girls back to their families. To show that someone cares. To give them some closure.”

It doesn’t faze her, the thought of her life being snapped away. It means nothing. Does nothing to her. Like it wouldn’t permanently alter the foundation of Flint’s life.

Living is an afterthought to her. Barely a consideration.

“Harbinger, we can’t do that if you’re dead!”

“Can’t you just trust me?”

Her voice echoes off the stone columns of the deck. Agony’s eyes burn a hole in Flint, bringing the rage from last night to a boil again. Harbinger flinches as it swells through their connection, and Flint tries to swallow it down. He can’t lose control again. He can’t be as depraved as Agony.

He fights to protect Harbinger. He doesn’t fight out of anger.

“I know how it sounds, Flint. I know I don’t have the best track record for not being reckless, but I’m telling you what I saw. What I felt. He couldn’t fake that.”

“We don’t know that!” Panic rises in Flint again. He lowers his voice, stepping closer to her. “We don’t know anything about this thing or what he can do to you.”

“It’s always about me.”

Her voice is quiet. Flint tries to settle his emotions clamoring out of control. He hates it. Hates letting go of the anxious grip he has on a sense of safety. Hates the thought of Harbinger risking anything to make someone else’s life easier.

“You do everything to protect me,” she murmurs. She doesn’t meet his eyes. “I know that’s your job, but you can’t be hypervigilant about everything. You can’t keep everything outside some ten-foot bubble around me. You’re going to exhaust yourself — kill yourself — trying to keep me safe. I can’t avoid every single thing that might hurt me. Some things I have to fucking deal with.”

But he can keep everything from her. It’s exactly how he handles his feelings for her. Tamping down on his emotions, never bringing them to the surface, never asking for more. Never seeking what he wants.

Because it would be asking too much from her.

Maybe she’s right. Maybe protecting her is wearing on him. But there’s no other choice.

If Harbinger won’t protect herself, who else will?

Anguish seeps into his voice, a fatigue that he’s been fighting back. “Don’t you care about what this could do to you? What it may have already done?”

Something flickers behind her eyes. “There are more important things than what happens to me.”

“Not for me.”

It’s an impasse, both of them deadlocked on either side, a stalemate they can’t negotiate their way out of. They watch each other until she swallows, glancing back to the car. “Let’s just go to Reid’s house. Maybe we’ll find what we need, and this conversation won’t matter.”

Flint doesn’t argue what they both know. This fundamental difference in their priorities will rear its ugly head again.