The last thing I wanted to do after New York was go straight from the airport to the archery club.
My feet blistered from standing on heels all day, my skin was raw from the makeup they’d slapped on me—then rubbed off of my face—and my scalp burned from all the hairspray and tugging. I’d sat for three hours and answered questions that had nothing to do with archery, then ended up missing my training session in New York. Everything felt chaotic and pointless. Since when was being an athlete about the fame and not the actual sport?
But Junsu had insisted I meet him at the club. Things between us were so strained, I figured appeasing him was more important than catching up on sleep. Besides, a huge chunk of me didn’t want to face Hunter again. I’d received radio silence from him the last couple days.
I asked Dad, who picked me up from the airport, to take me straight to the club. He didn’t protest, though I could see the apostrophes between his eyebrows on our way there. I itched to reach and smooth them with my fingers.
“If you have something to say, you might as well do it,” I grumbled as we rounded the street to the club.
I knew he and Mom were worried about me. I’d never given them an answer about the summer semester. I just pretended we hadn’t had that conversation, shoved it into the jam-packed denial drawer in my head.
Fuck-buddy purgatory. Life purgatory. Same difference.
“You look like you haven’t slept in days.” Dad kept his eyes on the road, his jaw twitching.
Growing up, it had always surprised me how my dad, who seemed so formidable and terrifying to the rest of the world, gave me pretty much free reign when it came to my own life. When I asked him about it once, he said, “I cannot keep you from making mistakes, because then you’ll never learn from them. The world is tough, and cruel, and mostly unfair. It’s our job to find a way to navigate our way in it. The more I shield you, the less chance you’ll have of surviving.”
“That’s because I haven’t,” I admitted, fiddling with my seatbelt as we sliced past rows of red-bricked buildings, little cafes, and potted plants. The sky was wooly, heavy with gray clouds. Autumn had molded into winter. The seasons were changing, and with them, the circumstances of my life. “But I will. Now that Lana is here, all I need is to prove I deserve the Olympic spot. Then I can finally take my foot off the gas.”
“Like you did in the last decade?” he quipped, strangling the steering wheel.
“Whatever happened to letting me make my own mistakes so I can learn from them?”
“Whatever happened to learning from your mistakes? You’re killing yourself,” he countered. “And seeing you like this is killing your mother. I will not be a widower because you’ve a chip on your shoulder and something to prove. Clearly, the Fitzpatrick boy didn’t have the desired effect on you.”
Dumbstruck, I whirled toward him, struggling to keep my jaw from dropping.
“Excuse me?”
He rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt up. “I thought an arranged relationship would work for you as it worked for your mother and me. I was wrong,” he grumbled, not a trace of apology in his voice.
“Hunter and I are not in a relationship,” I lied. Maybe. Who the hell knew what we were at this point?
Dad had kind of, sort of, okay—totally—kidnapped Mom and married her back in the day. They hadn’t expected to fall in love, but fall madly in love they did. Still, I struggled to understand what made him think this was the norm.
“It sure looked like it from where I was sitting at the Fitzpatrick dinner table.”
“Hunter’s celibate,” I bit out.
Dad side-eyed me, giving me the bored, shockingly condescending look he spared his enemies.
“Don’t lie to me, kid. I make a living off my bullshit radar, and your version of things stinks.”
“So you just handed me over to Fitzpatrick because you thought it’d loosen me up? Open my eyes to the wonders of the world?” I scoffed, aghast.
He threw the Maserati into park in front of the club, but didn’t kill the engine. I didn’t make a move. Junsu could wait. I was too busy digesting the fact that my dad had all but pimped me out in the name of bringing me out of my shell.
Dad ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, scowling at the center console.
“You needed a push in the right direction. Still do. It is fine not to be boy-crazy, but you can’t ignore the world forever. You’ve never had a crush. Beau wasn’t a crush. He was a fucking beard. You’ve never taken interest in doing anything, becoming something, pursuing a profession. You needed someone to introduce you to the world. Hunter was supposed to be the guy to do it.”
Hunter was the guy, I thought bitterly. Thanks to him, I had Ash, had learned how to push myself forward, to believe in myself, and stood up to Junsu. Because of him, I’d started dressing up and paying attention to what I looked like. Hunter had dragged me out of the house to restaurants and the theater and to meet his friends and family. He made me a part of something bigger than my teeny-tiny life. I couldn’t deny it. And Hunter, like my parents, hated my obsession with what I was doing—my tunnel-visioned quest to the Olympics.
“He is,” I croaked, staring at my hands in my lap now.
Dad looked up at me, surprised.
I cleared my throat. “He is that guy. He changed me, Dad. Maybe not as fast or as thoroughly as you and Mom had hoped, but he did. I’m not the same person I was when we moved in together.”
“Then why the fuck are you still like this?” He peered at me, puzzled. He was such a man.
“Like what?”
“Still…” He motioned in my general direction. “Consumed. Obsessed. You.”
“Because it’s not so black and white. And anyway, we’re not together-together.” I felt my cheeks heating. I couldn’t believe I was talking to my dad about this, of all people. It was like taking dating advice from Dracula. “He is not serious about me,” I admitted, my voice coming out softer than I intended.
“I wasn’t marriage material before your mother made me. Be patient.” He flashed me a rare smile, ruffling my hair. “Now get the fuck out, sweetheart. I have work.”
I chuckled, pushing the passenger door open and getting out with more energy than I’d had for the couple days I spent in New York.
“Good luck, baby.”
“Thanks, Daddy.”
Bill, the receptionist at the club, informed me that Junsu wanted to see me in his office, but he was running a little late.
“Emergency at home. He’ll be here soon. Just walk right in.” Bill mock-punched my shoulder hello.
I rolled my luggage around his counter. “Thanks. Mind if I leave this here?”
“Be my guest.” He shrugged, getting back to hunching over the desk in front of him, playing solitaire on his laptop.
Walking to Junsu’s office felt daunting, death-row like. I knew he was unhappy with me, and I knew we were growing apart. The familiar hallway felt narrower, the air stuffy. I realized Dad was right. It was time to stop resenting Hunter for his past and give him a fair chance. Maybe after I moved out we’d continue seeing each other. Maybe—just maybe—Hunter said all those things about our arrangement and how it was all temporary for the same reason I reminded myself that we had an expiration date: to keep himself from hurting.
To dare me to defy our six-month plan.
The truth was, for the past few months, there was nowhere I’d rather be than with Hunter Fitzpatrick. He was my home, the little corner in the universe that understood me.
I knocked on Junsu’s door before remembering Bill had said he wasn’t there. Pushing the door open, I took a step in.
Froze.
Sucked in a breath.
My lungs collapsed first, then my smile. One brick at a time. My system shut down, my throat dried up, and my heart…
It skipped a beat…no, two, three beats before it started hammering in my chest violently, desperate to burst out and flap helplessly on the floor, like a fish out of water.
“Jesus Christ!” My throat burned with the scream.
Hunter was sitting in Junsu’s chair, naked. Lana was on top of him, straddling his narrow waist. She was wearing his dress shirt and seemingly nothing underneath. She had her back to me, but there was no mistaking the lush, brunette hair extensions. Her arms were wrapped around his neck possessively, her face buried in his chest.
I wanted to throw up.
Lana spun her head in my direction, her lips curling into a vicious smile that cut through me like a blade. Seeing her up close like this after so much time felt like coming face to face with Echinda—half-woman, half-snake, all poison.
“Oops, was this one yours?” she purred, running a manicured, nude-colored nail across his fine jaw. Hunter swatted her touch away, sobering.
I took a step back. Tentatively.
“Fuck.” He darted up. “Sailor, wait!”
Fuck indeed.
He had his pants on—thank God for small miracles. Lana dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes, and he stepped around her like she was dirt on his way to me. I turned around and ran. Not walked—ran. I knew if he got to me, he’d see everything on my face, the ugly, pathetic truth of my feelings for him. The only thing I had left was my pride. He was not getting it.
My heart, maybe, but not my pride.
Hunter chased me, his footsteps ringing off the walls of the hallway. I thought about what they’d done, putting the story behind the horrific scene together. She had his shirt on, which meant she had to have been naked with him at some point. They’d had sex—filthy, intimate, rough sex. When he knew how much I hated her. Bad blood ran between Lana and me like a river, and Hunter had bathed in it. He’d handed her my ass. He’d betrayed me.
“Stop! Just let me explain.” Hunter was at my heels as I burst through the glass door of the club, realizing I didn’t have my car. Frantically, I looked left and right, noticing there were a lot of cars I didn’t recognize in the usually empty parking lot.
Bill got up from his station and ran to the door, but I shook my head. “I can handle this, Bill.”
I didn’t have time to call an Uber. I had to escape by foot, at least until I got rid of Hunter.
“Sailor.” Hunter spun me by my injured shoulder. His touch felt like fire. It burned through me, and I nearly yelped. He was still shirtless.
“Don’t touch me!” I clawed at his skin desperately, managing to leave bloody scratches on his forearm.
He ignored them. “It’s not what it looks like.” He raised his hands in defense.
I heard commotion around us, but nothing registered other than the white-hot anger coursing through my body.
“You’d say that, wouldn’t you, considering I hold your future in my hands.” I started taking the stairs down, but Hunter yanked me back up, bringing me to his chest and enveloping me in a fierce hug. I tried to kick his nuts. He grabbed my knee, pushing it aside, knotting my leg around him. He cupped my face, shielding me from sight, and whispered into my ear, “Don’t look up, baby.”
I looked up disobediently, feeling an ugly, taunting smile mar my face. I wanted to hurt him back. What I saw was close to a dozen photographers—paparazzi, no doubt—taking photos of us. The flashes felt like lashes, each catcall and muffled laugh a beating to my soul.
Click. Click. Click.
Me, heartbroken and distraught.
Click. Click. Click.
Him, half-naked and guilty.
I nearly collapsed with the adrenaline buzzing through me, but Hunter dragged me back into the club and shut the door. The photographers followed him to the threshold, but didn’t get inside.
“Let go of me,” I roared as Hunter hoisted me up by my midriff, my back pressed against his hard chest, and pulled me to the back hallway, kicking and screaming, where they couldn’t see us. I wondered where Lana was, how much pleasure she took from this.
Infinite amounts.
Hunter pinned me to the wall, breathing in my face. His breath smelled like a woman, of a cloying, sweet perfume and hints of watermelon lip gloss. His lips had some glitter residue. My body shook with so much anger, betrayal, and despair, the first thing I did when he released me was slap his cheek with all the force I still had in me. His face flew in the other direction, and he closed his eyes, drawing a calming breath, his nostrils flaring.
“Aingeal dian.”
“Call me that name one more time, and I’ll gouge your eye out with one of my arrows.”
“We’ve been set up. Somebody called the photographers. Somebody wanted them to see me like this. You like that.”
“And of course, you, forever the easy prey where a pretty woman is concerned, rose to the occasion of being seduced,” I exclaimed theatrically, my uncontrolled rage turning into bitter sarcasm. “Poor Hunter Fitzpatrick. So close to his family’s fortune, yet so, so far.”
“I didn’t…” he started, but I pushed him away. He couldn’t deny what I’d just seen with my own eyes.
“Save me the excuses and leave.”
Junsu came running through the corridor, thunder in his eyes.
“Get away from her!” he barked like a rabid dog, shaking his fist in the air. He possessed a vitality I hadn’t seen in him for months. “I kick your ass!”
Hunter lifted his hands, looking between the two of us, his deep breaths contracting his abs into a tight six pack.
“Sailor,” Hunter murmured under his breath. “I have some things I need to tell you, and we need to have this conversation alone.”
“This is the last time I’m going to repeat myself.” I lifted my finger to Hunter. “We’re done forever. Don’t talk to me. Don’t approach me. I’ll talk to your dad about the fine print regarding our…arrangement.” I kept it vague, as if I hadn’t told Junsu all the details. “I’ll send my dad and Sam to pick up my stuff from the apartment.”
With that, I bolted back toward the door, pushing through it with the speed of a bullet. Some of the photographers were still loitering around, smoking and looking at their phones. As soon as I burst out, they picked their cameras up and started chasing me.
I caught sight of Lana standing in the corner of the parking lot, fully dressed in a chic off-shoulder pink sweater, skinny jeans, and riding boots, giving an interview to a sports reporter, addressing the rumors about her and her new beau, Hunter Fitzpatrick.
“It’s still the early days.” She laughed throatily, making a show of flipping her hair. “And as you can see, unfortunately, there’s a lot of interest from unwanted female admirers.”
The reporters burst out laughing, nodding enthusiastically.
Me. I was the admirer. The stalker. The weird idiot who had a public meltdown when she found them. The need to throttle Lana made my fingertips burn.
All because of one mistake. One accident. One tragedy that had linked Lana and me together forever.
I knew Hunter was being escorted out of the club by security under Junsu’s supervision, and that my trainer would understand why I couldn’t stay, so I started running. I put one foot in front of the other until I hit a good pace. My mother was a runner. I’d inherited my lithe, athletic legs from her. Running relatively long distances, even without practice, wasn’t a problem.
It was when the wind hit my face that I realized I was crying. The heat of my tears against my ice-cold cheeks made my face feel numb. My tears flew behind me as I sliced through the air, running faster, toward downtown. I’d make a phone call after I dodged the photographers. First, I had to lose them.
It was only when I was fifteen blocks from the club that I dared peek over my shoulder. The paparazzi were nowhere in sight. They’d already gotten what they were looking for—a scandal they could spin a million different ways and juicy photos that’d get tongues wagging.
I stopped at a traffic light, pressing my hands to my knees, panting. As soon as I regulated my breath, I took my phone out. Ten missed calls from Junsu. Twelve from Mom. Two from Dad. Four between Sam, Emmabelle, and Persy. Thirty-one from Hunter. My battery was dying.
I hit the dial button and called Mom back.
“Hey, Mom, can you pick me up?” I tried to keep my voice as casual as I could, even though I knew she knew something was up. She wouldn’t call me so many times for nothing. Some of the pictures must have had already hit the websites as the news broke.
All I heard was a sniff on the other line, and then, “On my way.”
Later that night, the gossip sites added a convoluted story to the pictures of me storming out of the club and Hunter chasing me half-naked. As I suspected, the headlines ranged from “Hunk Dumps Archer Sailor Brennan for Bombshell Lana Alder” to “Billionaire’s Son (yes, the one with the sex tape!) Caught Cheating on Olympic Hottie.”
There was even one story claiming an insider insisted Hunter and I were in an arranged relationship to keep him out of trouble. I had no doubt who’d orchestrated the entire thing: Lana. The minute she found out I lived with him, she went after him and put this entire nightmare in motion. The only thing I still couldn’t figure out was how she found out who I lived with. Who gave her the info?
“I mean, they did call you a hottie.” Emmabelle passed me a tub of ice cream, snatching the phone from my hand so I couldn’t read more speculations about my relationship with Hunter. Belle, Persy, and Aisling were all perched in my childhood bedroom on my old bed, which my parents had dragged back from storage when news of Hunter and Lana started making the rounds. Mom floated in and out of my room periodically, offering milkshakes, cookies, and ice cream. Not only was I heartbroken, but now I would likely die prematurely of type two diabetes.
“They also referred to you as an Olympic athlete,” Aisling pointed out sheepishly, munching on her lower lip.
It was probably weird for her to be here, being the sister of the offender, but she kept a straight face and didn’t try to defend him.
“So, are you going to tell us Hunter’s charges?” Emmabelle poked my ribs. “Are we talking breaking the contract and screwing you over with his dad, which is infuriating, albeit redeemable, or is it…more?”
I was washed with sympathetic gazes. Although my friends had practically witnessed my fooling around with Hunter, I’d never confirmed my relationship with him, and they’d never pushed.
Feeling my throat working, I began to pick invisible lint from the blanket on top of my crossed legs. I felt guilty for not confiding in them sooner. I never kept anything from my friends.
“Are you asking if we were together?” I cleared my throat.
The tub of ice cream was transferred into Persy’s hand when Belle realized I wasn’t going to eat any.
“We’re asking if you’re in love,” Persy said gently, squeezing my thigh.
“And byproduct, if we need to go there and kick his ass.” Emmabelle flexed her nonexistent bicep. “Don’t worry, Aisling. You’re excused from the task.”
“Oh, I’ll be the one aiming straight for his genitals to show where my loyalty lies.” Aisling’s eyes flared.
We all burst out in laughter. Even me.
Aisling shook her head and patted my leg. “I will never forget the day you brought me into your circle.”
“I know, but blood is thicker than water,” I croaked.
“That may be, but loyalty is thicker than blood,” Aisling replied. “We’re a team now. A pack. The Boston Belles.”
The room fell silent. The new nickname rolled nicely off her tongue. It rang true and sweet. I smiled again, mainly to make my friends feel like they were getting somewhere with their attempts to console me.
“So?” Emmabelle turned the conversation back to me. “Are you in love with the well-endowed sex-tape prince?”
It was so like her to find his sex tape and watch it on repeat.
“Yeah,” I answered quietly, surprising even myself. “God, I am. Crap.”
“Crap,” they echoed in unison.
“Indeed,” Belle added helpfully.
She covered me with her body, draping over me like a second blanket. Persy hugged me from one side, the ice cream tub still in her hand, freezing the back of my head, and Aisling climbed the bed and hugged me from the other side. My friends engulfed me from all directions.
I felt loved. So loved, I couldn’t help but wonder how the man I hated so much right now was doing.
Hunter didn’t have friends here.
No support group.
Good, I thought. Let him rot in hell and feel the weight of the consequences of his actions.
The morning after, I paid a visit to Gerald Fitzpatrick at his home office. It was buttcrack o’clock, but I wanted to get it out of the way before I started training. Also, coming into his office and risking facing Hunter was my idea of hell.
Dad had picked up my car and belongings from Hunter’s apartment the night before. I didn’t ask him if he saw my ex-roommate, but he mentioned Hunter had tried calling me several times. Several was ninety-six, to be exact, including some text messages trying to coax me to listen to him. At some point Hunter had texted that he was outside my parents’ building. He’d waited there for four hours by the time stamp of his text messages.
I blocked his number after that.
“I suppose you’re here to apologize for your colossal failure,” Mr. Fitzpatrick sneered behind his dark oak desk. His office consisted of a wall-to-ceiling, back-to-back library full to the brim with books, a desk, three chairs, and a minibar. Expensive paintings by Picasso and Modigliani hung on the very little space that wasn’t occupied with books. The tax on those things alone could buy six houses here in the city.
“Not exactly,” I said, keeping my back straight, my demeanor calm. I was still standing, as I hadn’t been invited to sit down. Just as well. I wanted to make it short and not so sweet.
“Are you denying that my son slept with the Alder girl?” Gerald raised a thick, bushy eyebrow, his index finger covering the length of his twisted mouth.
“I didn’t catch them having sex.” I popped one shoulder up.
“So you’re defending him yet again?” His eyes widened.
I shook my head, meeting his eyes. “No. But I can’t condemn him for what I don’t know for a fact. But I do know I slept with him. I don’t want this on my conscience. This is why I’m here today, to tell you I betrayed your confidence, broke the terms of our deal, and won’t be going through with the last month of our agreement. Please send me the invoice for the money you’ve invested in my career so I can repay you.”
I stepped forward, sliding him a sheet with my information. My fingers shook around it. “For what it’s worth, I know Hunter hasn’t been with anyone other than myself and perhaps Lana Alder during those months, and he was always sober. He’s put a lot of effort into work and college, gave it his best shot.”
I left out his late nights working on the Syllie Project, as we’d called it. It wasn’t my tale to tell.
Gerald leaned forward, ignoring the document I’d placed between us. “Are you implying he deserves the inheritance?” He scowled, each word spat like it was profanity.
My throat bobbed with a swallow. I could mess it up for Hunter. And a part of me—not a small part, I had to admit—wanted to do just that. Because my heart was in pieces. Ever since yesterday, I hadn’t felt like my lungs were full, no matter how much I tried breathing. It felt like something had been ripped from my chest, and the hollowness had spread to the rest of me like a disease.
But ruining it for Hunter was also ruining it for me.
I didn’t want the responsibility of tarnishing his life, even if he’d shattered mine.
“I think he definitely deserves to be a part of the family business, and to have his piece of the inheritance,” I answered evenly. “He is a changed man, despite his mishap.”
Every word felt like a sword in my mouth.
“And you are willing to pay for your PR campaign? Cover all costs?” he stressed, his face unreadable.
Was he accepting my offer to pay for everything, or was he going to secretly sue me for everything I had?
“Yeah.” I licked my lips, resisting the urge to nibble at my thumb. “I’ll pay for everything. I might need to have a monthly plan—I won’t take the money from my parents—but I will. I promise.”
He stared at me harshly. “Leave.”
I looked around us. The room was quiet and empty and cold, like its owner.
“That’s it?”
“Yes. Get the hell out of my office.”
“Sir, I—”
“Out. Before I change my mind and make it much worse for both of you.”
I turned around and marched to the door, halting when I reached the threshold. Something, maybe my dignity, willed me to chance one more look at him.
“I really am sorry,” I whispered. “And I know he is, too. If Hunter could be anything in the world, it would be your son. Your real son.”
His head was bowed. If he heard me, I couldn’t tell. His shoulders trembled, just for a second.
Crying? Laughing? Shaking his head?
One thing was for sure: Gerald Fitzpatrick didn’t fully hate his bastard son, whether he admitted it or not.
My reputation was in the mud.
I knew that as soon as I got to the archery club. A few reporters milled around the door, flicking cigarette butts and talking among themselves. I shouldered past before their cameras could aim at me like weapons. Junsu was quick to open the door from the inside, jerk me in, and slam it in their faces.
He ushered me to his office, his hand on my back. “The boy ruined everything, just like I thought,” he muttered, his hair a mess, eyes swollen from lack of sleep. “People say you in no mental state to win the competition against Lana to determine which one goes to Olympics.”
“That’s nonsense,” I huffed. I caught up to his steps, but he was moving like a storm, demon-quick and aiming for destruction. “Hunter has nothing to do with the competition. I’m ready.”
But was I really? I felt like I was floating on a cloud parallel to my own life. I didn’t know what I wanted anymore, what I was capable of.
He stopped in front of his office, squeezing both my arms in a rare fatherly gesture.
“I don’t want it to break you.” He clasped me harder, his eyes begging me for something I couldn’t understand.
“It won’t.” I wiggled free of his touch, red anger rising within me.
“You’ve waited too long for this,” he said slowly. “What if you collapse in the range?”
“I will not.” I gritted my teeth, pushing the door to his office open and walking in. He followed me, closing the door behind us. I took a seat. I noticed the piggy bank was gone. Maybe Hunter and Lana had to break it to buy condoms. He’d certainly run through a few boxes with me.
Are they together now? When it doesn’t matter anyway? When his father knows and I’m out of the picture? Probably.
“So why did you want to see me yesterday?” I slapped my thigh hard to break myself loose of the memory of Lana sitting on top of Hunter. It was all I could think about. I couldn’t sleep, eat, or function—just play that moment on repeat.
Junsu pinched his temple from his spot by the door, then shook his head, realizing I’d asked him a question. “What?”
What was wrong with him?
“I asked why you wanted to see me straight after I landed yesterday. Why you asked me to come to your office,” I repeated slowly.
“Oh. Because I had time to train Lana those days you were gone. She very good, Sailor. I worry for your chances.”
I smiled tightly. Junsu had kind of sucked at the whole-mental preparation part recently. It felt like no one around me wanted me in the Olympics. Everybody thought I’d sacrificed my life for the cause. This was the last straw.
“I’m good too. I’ll be fine.”
“A trial with a selection panel will be here the day after tomorrow.” He dropped the mother of all bombs at my feet, letting it detonate in my face. I knew it was going to happen sometime soon, but in two days?
The other two members of the Olympic team had won their spots based on their national rankings. Lana and I were competing for the individual spot on the team. The selection panel would be the deciding factor between us.
“When did you learn about this?” I shot to my feet.
“Over the weekend.” He fingered a bow that hung on his wall, the bow he had used when he won the gold medal all those years ago.
I thought about the word. Bow. I didn’t want to bow to anyone. This was why I’d mastered the instrument in the first place.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You were busy in photoshoot,” he accused, letting the last word twist out of his mouth like it was made of nails and broken glass.
I wanted to scream in his face, grab his shoulders, shake him, and throw the responsibility for this mess at his door. How dare he keep this from me? I’d have stayed and practiced more had I known.
“Try next Olympics,” Junsu said softly, his voice below a whisper. His entire face crinkled, like a ball of tissue left in someone’s coat pocket the entire winter. “Five years, Sailor. You still so young.”
Oh, but my soul, I wanted to reply. It’d seen so many things. It was so old, so well worn and practiced in disappointment.
I stormed past him, my shoulder brushing his on my way out. I was a huntress, made for big, glorious things. A sailor crossing oceans, conquering foreign seas.
I was going to meet Lana and see our battle through, even if it brought me to Hades.
And if I failed, at least I’d know I tried. Fought. At least I’d know I was a Brennan.
