She is my brother’s wife. It’s only on paper, though. I know that, don’t I? It’s necessary for what needs to happen next. She belongs to us both. When my uncle asked if it bothered me, though, that it’s Amadeo and not me? The truth of it is yes. Yes, it does. Did. I don’t fucking know.

I shake my head to clear it, to banish the thoughts. This strange feeling in my gut that accompanies them.

Jealousy.

No, not jealousy. I need to remember he’s doing it for our cause. It’s necessary. And I need to keep that cause in the forefront of my mind and make sure he does too.

I will talk to Amadeo. Make sure he doesn’t lose sight of who she is, even given what just happened. We can’t forget what her family did. I will ensure my brother and I both remember the endgame because I’m afraid she has the power to make us forget.

Her body shudders. I set her hand on her stomach and look at mine on top of it. Mine is big and calloused, tanned by the constant sunshine. Beauty and her beasts. I draw the blanket over her as the events of the morning replay in my mind’s eye. The stench of the barn. The kneeling men. Her face. Her eyes. The moments before, outside, when I turned to find her leaning against the tree, doubled over and panting. Not there at all for a blink. She had the same look in her eyes at that moment as when she snatched my pistol and gunned down her attacker. Her would-be rapist.

“What happened to you?” I ask her, watching her eyes all along. “What made you like this?”

She watches me, too, then turns her head away. “I’m tired.”

“No. Look at me.” When she doesn’t, I take her chin and make her look. “Something happened to you. What was it?”

Her eyes search mine as I explore hers for answers. The brilliant jewel blue grows cloudy, the whites growing pink as they water. Tears slide out of the corner of each eye and slip over her temples. She doesn’t try to cover them. She doesn’t have the energy to. She’s using up her reserves to hide herself from me.

“Tell me what happened to you.” My voice is quieter, but I want to know. I want more than anything to know what it was that broke her.

Her expression changes, hardening, her jaw setting. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” she says flatly, not like herself at all, and tugs free. I let her roll over onto her side, her back to me. “I’m tired.”