Surely I’m misinterpreting. I must be. Because only a fool would look at her reaction and actually believe she’s feeling protective of Shiloh. It’s all an act. It has to be. “Then you know she deserves better than to be fucked with.”

Monroe snorts. “Her past doesn’t mean she’s not capable of making her own decisions. Respect them.”

Cohen jerks his thumb toward the door. “Get out.”

“Happily.”

We both watch her leave. He barely lets me sigh before he’s in my face. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

I’m getting really fucking tired of my brothers acting like this. I know I haven’t handled this situation as ideally as possible, but that doesn’t change the fact that none of them would be successful going toe-to-toe with Monroe. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“You let those three sit around and chat for how long?”

I don’t react to his rage. “About an hour, all said and done.”

“Why the fuck did you think that’s a good idea?”

“I didn’t think it was a good idea, but Harlow set it up, so I handled chaperoning.” I clench my fists, but I make no other move. Cohen is wound more tightly than I expected. He’s practically emoting, even if it’s rage. “She’s right, though. They work better as hostages if we allow them to see each other.”

“It gives them too much time to plot.”

“Are we supposed to keep them prisoners for the entire year? Should we all take a page out of Ezekiel’s book and tie our Brides to the bed? You think soft little Winry would survive that without untold mental trauma?”

He flinches. It’s the tiniest of movements, but it’s there nonetheless. “I didn’t say that.”

“We had a plan when we came into this. It involves letting Monroe and Fallon travel back and forth between here and their respective factions. Their good behavior is solely dependent on the quality of hostages we have here. Keeping them from their family is counterproductive.”

Cohen exhales and looks away. “I’m aware.”

“What’s the real problem, then?”

“Your Bride.”

Now it’s my turn to flinch. “Excuse me?”

“I’m sure Abel already talked to you, but if you don’t get this situation under control, it’s going to get ugly.”

All this is true. It also doesn’t explain why Cohen is so fucking emotional. He doesn’t know Monroe, and even if he did—she’s not family. Cohen’s priority lines are stark and clear; the few people he cares about and everyone else. “And?”

“And what?”

“Why do you care? She’s just some Amazon. Who gives a fuck if she lives or dies?” I do. I push the words down, hoping they don’t show on my face. “Why is everyone on my shit about this?”