“Oh, Merit,” Ethan said. He reached for my hands, ignored my attempts to shake him off, and drew me up and against him. He embraced me, wrapping his arms around my body as if he might force out the rest of the world, or protect me from the sharper edges of it.
I buried my face in his chest, allowing the tears I’d been holding back for hours to finally begin to stream.
“I let him go,” I said when I reached the ugliest part of the tears. “I fucking let him go. And I hate myself for that.”
“You are entitled to your emotions, but that is undeservedly harsh. You saved a child, Merit.”
“I let him go.” I looked up at him. “Three times, Ethan. Three times he’s hurt me and walked away from it. When is he going to receive justice? When is he forced to pay the price?”
“I don’t know, Merit. I don’t know if you’ll get justice or if he will.” He pulled back enough to look at me. “You are not a child, and you know the world is not fair. You’ve had your share of unfairness, and got a stark reminder of that tonight. But I swear to you, Merit—I swear it on my life, my House, and my soul—he will never touch you again.”
I was suddenly so, so tired. “He’ll try. He will try, and Reed will try. He’ll take a shot at you, or at me, or at my father.”
The remembrance of my father—of my lingering battle with Ethan—made me look away. But Ethan took my chin between two fingers, forced me to meet his gaze.
His eyes were narrowed, his brow furrowed, as he looked down at me. “We’ll have this out, too, while we’re dealing with everything else. Your father has been cruel to you so many times over. Why has a phone call become a wall between us?”
“Because maybe he’s changed.”
The words came out, words I didn’t even know I’d been holding in.
I hadn’t been angry at Ethan. Not really.
I’d been afraid.
I made myself meet Ethan’s gaze. “I guess I hoped Towerline had changed him. That it was a sign that he was accepting me for who I was, understanding that he’d have to deal with me on my terms, not on his. That we could have a different kind of relationship. That something could begin. And if Reed puts a target on him, if Reed takes him out . . .”
“Then I’d have taken away that new family,” Ethan said, and cupped my face in his hands. “I am so sorry, Merit. I didn’t mean to risk him. I meant only to protect you, because you’re the closest thing to family I’ve known in four hundred years. You are my miracle.”
His arms banded around me as I sobbed again.
“In the future,” he said after a time, when my tears had subsided, “I will talk to you before involving—even potentially—your family.”
“Thank you.” I cleared my throat. “Thank you for that. You must have been angry and worried tonight, and I’m sorry for that.”
“I was worried,” Ethan agreed. “And I was angry. You inspire both emotions, Merit, and not infrequently.” There was a hint of amusement around his mouth.
“I’m sorry,” I said again. “But I’d do it again.”
He looked down at me, eyes burning bright. “Oh, would you?”
I could feel the fear seeping away, as if his being near—and our being on the same page again—had siphoned it out of me, wicked it away. And as the fear receded, the bravado came back.
God, I loved the bravado.
“I love you, Ethan, and I love this city. And however much I fought it, I love this goddamn House. It’s part of me, and I’m part of it. I’m not going to stand here and watch a man tear down everything that you’ve built. I’m not. And if that means I have to chase another man who threatens this House, or apologize to you more than I like, so be it. I don’t want that, but I can live with it. Because I can’t live without you.”
Silence fell.
“Well,” he said after a full minute had passed, “you’re not leaving me with much room to yell at you.”
“That was part of the plan,” I said with a watery laugh. “Fear is what Reed uses against us. For Celina, fear that she would be average. For you, fear that you would become a monster like Balthasar, that I’d be hurt. And for me, fear that I will be that vulnerable human all over again.”
“It is his gift,” Ethan agreed ruefully. “To find those tender spots and press into them. Fear, my Sentinel, is inevitable. It is one of our more important instincts. It keeps us alive. Fighting through the fear is a choice. That’s the choice you’ve made since that April night one year ago. That’s the choice you’ll continue to make, because that’s what’s inside you. I love you, and I believe in you, more than I have ever believed in anyone. And it is absolutely terrifying.”
I thought that might have been the nicest thing he’d ever said to me. I put my hands on his cheeks, pulled his head down to mine, and kissed him. “I love you, Ethan.”
“I love you, Merit.” He smiled. “And now it feels like the world is righting. Would this be an opportune time for me to point out that, despite your having berated me yesterday, you did exactly what you scolded me for doing?”
He was right, so I let him get away with it. “You mean I let Reed bait me? I ran headlong into danger probably orchestrated by Reed, even if I ruined his plan a little by forcing his asset into play a little earlier than he’d probably intended? Yeah, I know.” And then I played a card of my own. “I guess you could say I pulled a Darth Sullivan.”
He knew about the nickname but clearly didn’t like it, given the curl of his upper lip.
“If it makes you feel better, you can tell me your nickname for me.”
“That would spoil all the fun.” He sighed, put his arms around me again. “We may fight again, Sentinel. We may rail at each other until the sun breaches the sky. But the truth is this. I love you. And I found you once, that April night. I will always look for you, and I will always find you. And as for your monster, we’ll find him together,” Ethan said, pressing a final kiss to my forehead. “We’ll go downstairs, we’ll talk to Luc, and we’ll find him. And one way or the other, we’ll find Reed, too. And then may God have mercy on his soul.”
• • •
I cleaned up and washed tears from my face and blood from my hands, and we walked downstairs to the Ops Room. Luc and Lindsey rose when we darkened the doorway, hurried toward us.