Dr. Summers seems to understand. "If we can find a treatment, we owe it to the poor people who were infected. No matter what they've done, they were human once. They were our family and friends."
"Exactly." I'm relieved that she understands.
"The only problem is, I'm not a virologist. Though I would've loved to specialize, my area of medicine is general. I figured that more people would benefit from that, living in the world we do."
"I anticipated that, so I propose that we contact my sister’s Sanctuary and speak with the doctor there. I got the chance to get to know him over the course of a few months while he was coming up with the vaccine and he’s a brilliant man. I don't know if he's a virologist either, but he definitely knows a lot about the virus. Especially this one. I think he made it his personal mission to study it."
She nods thoughtfully. "It can't hurt to ask. I'll start compiling a list of questions tonight. I suspect my conversation with Tucson’s doctor will need to be long and detailed."
I smile my relief at her. This meeting has gone better than I could have possibly anticipated. I'm a warrior, not a diplomat. When Tabitha argued, I wanted to argue back. When Dolly ate the cookies, I wanted to take a handful too. I honestly have no idea what I'm doing and I think Wolfe is half insane for putting me in charge of this. But so far, so good.
We stand together and I promise the doctor that I will get in touch with her when I’m ready to attempt radio contact with the Tucson Sanctuary. I leave the meeting room and glance around for my guards. They’re never far away.
I spot Kingston and wave him over. "Where's the Warlord?"
"He's working on the wall."
I nod and head toward the door. "Then take me to the wall."
Twenty
"What are you doing?" I ask, approaching Wolfe from behind.
He turns around, his golden eye roving over me from head to toe. He always does that, like a private inventory. I want to tell him that yes, all of my limbs, fingers, toes, ears and nose are still intact.
"We're strengthening this section of the wall so the rebuild in the sections that fell will be stronger, sturdier. We don't want this to happen again. The Primitives shouldn’t have been able to overrun the city. Silas did a poor job of wall maintenance."
At the mention of my husband’s name, I’m instantly annoyed. "Silas was a strong leader. You have no right to say otherwise."
Wolfe says nothing and I’m forced to stew on my anger alone. I hate that he’s right. In some ways, Silas was a strong leader. He was patient and fair. He loved his people. But Wolfe is right, he didn’t put enough resources into security. He assumed his second-in-command, Wolfe, would take care of everything, but Wolfe could only do so much with the resources he had.
I move to stand next to him and look out across the construction zone. We’re on the western section of the wall, facing the destruction caused by the Primitives as they forced their way into the Santa Fe Sanctuary. The men working construction are scattered across the wall. They look like tiny ants as they reinforce and reconstruct the wall using metal beams, the shells of old cars and concrete from fallen buildings.
"I want to know why you're putting me in charge of fixing this city. I'm a terrible choice. I don’t know anything about anything."
I can feel the heat of his gaze he looks down. Goosebumps of awareness rush up my arms and I try to rub them away. I rarely think of Wolfe as overly tall or big, maybe because I've gotten used to him. But when I'm standing next to him, his size suddenly seems to matter. He is a huge, broad and tall man. He has long limbs, hard slabs of muscle, and no fat on him. Veins rope his arms and hands, showing that he's had a hard-working life. I know he has, because I've often seen him working in the city. When I lived in the harem, Wolfe was a very hands-on second-in-command. He was always doing something. He was not one to give orders and then step back while others did as he demanded.
"You had a meeting today. Did it go badly?"
I'm not surprised that he knows about the meeting, though I didn’t clear it with him first. Knowing Wolfe, the kind of man that he is, he would just assume I was doing the task he assigned, putting the city in order. He wouldn’t care how it got done. He's the type of person who likes to see action instead of words.
Suddenly, his last words to me before he left the Tucson Sanctuary leap into my head. "Come find me when you're ready."
He likes to see action. Maybe I wasn't giving him the right actions back then? I thought that by learning to be a warrior, by working by his side, I could give him everything he needed. But, at the time, I didn't know what I wanted from him. Not until he left. Then I realized I’d been looking at him as my protection. Maybe that was wrong. Maybe he wanted something more. Or maybe, yet again, I'm overthinking.
"No, actually, the meeting went very well."
"Then I fail to see the problem." His words are simple and dismissive.
I stand rigidly next to him, fighting with myself. "Well done, soldier. You just backed me into a corner, didn't you? If I continue to complain about the burden you've dumped on my lap, I'll look petulant and difficult. Yet, if I lie and say that the meeting went badly, you’ll think I'm incompetent."
I tip my head back to look at him and find him staring down at me, an inscrutable expression on his face. Again, he doesn't say anything, but moves his gaze back to the work progress.
"What if I don't want this responsibility?"
"Anyone who wants this kind of responsibility shouldn't have it."
I frown. "Silas loved being Warlord. He loved running the city. Are you saying he shouldn't have had the position?"
He doesn't speak and once more I find my frustration growing. Yet, often Wolfe’s silence speaks louder than words. I know that he's saying Silas shouldn't have been Warlord. And the more I see of the city, how easily it toppled, how badly protected it was when the Primitives arrived, I begin to agree. But it's hard for me to separate the love I felt for my husband from the disrespect I'm suddenly feeling for our former Warlord.
"Why are you doing this to me?" I ask in frustration. “I never asked for anything. I don't want any of this."
I'm surprised when he takes my arm and jerks me around to look at him, a thunderous expression on his face. My mouth falls open. I've never seen him look at me that way before. Not even when I tried beating him up in the harem. He's always so steady, so serious, I didn't think anything could anger him. Not really.
"Your choice doesn't matter. None of ours matter. Survival is the only thing we have. I gave you a choice: stay in the harem as the Warlord's slave, or come out of the harem and manage the city. You made your choice; you will stand by it."
I narrow my eyes at him. "And if I don't?"
He grips me by the back of the neck and drags me up onto my toes. I reach up to take hold of his wrists as his mouth touches mine. His kiss isn't angry, nor is it passionate. It's matter of fact, meant as a threat without actually being a threat. He's telling me without words what will happen if I back out of our agreement.