The General

Chapter 20.

​The Lower Falls Fair was a sensory bombardment that Victor met with the grim endurance of a man walking into an ambush. The air was a thick, cloying cocktail of fried dough, diesel fumes from the generators, and the high-pitched shrieks of teenagers. Neon lights in aggressive shades of magenta and electric blue strobe-flashed against the darkening sky, reflecting off the chrome of the rides.

​To anyone else, it was a celebration. To Victor, it was a logistical nightmare of unmonitored exits and unpredictable crowds.

​True to his word, he remained Briar’s shadow. He didn’t walk beside her so much as he guarded her flank, his large frame acting as a silent, roving barrier against the surging throng of people. Every time a rowdy group of locals stumbled too close, Victor’s hand would find the small of Briar’s back- a firm, guiding pressure that steered her clear without him ever having to say a word.

​"You’re doing that thing again," Briar teased, leaning back into his touch as they navigated the midway toward the back of the park.

​"What thing?" Victor rumbled, his eyes scanning the crowd with rhythmic, tactical precision.

​"The 'I'm-calculating-the-nearest-extraction-point' face," she said, glancing up at him. "Relax, Victor. The only thing likely to attack you here is a sentient stick of cotton candy."

​"The layout of this place is a mess, Briar," he replied, his jaw tightening as a teenager in a neon hat nearly collided with them. "High density, low visibility, and the structural integrity of these rides is… questionable."

​"Which is exactly why we're going on the most structurally questionable one of them all," she said, pointing upward.

​The Ferris wheel stood at the far edge of the grounds, a giant, creaking halo of amber lights that groaned as it turned. Archer and Mallory had already vanished toward the ring-toss, leaving the two of them in a pocket of relative quiet.

​Victor looked at the swaying gondolas, then back at Briar’s expectant, mischievous face. He let out a breath that was half-sigh, half-surrender. "Understood. Maintaining high-ground advantage."

​The line moved quickly. Soon, they were being ushered into a small, swinging metal carriage. The operator slammed the safety bar down- a thin piece of cold iron that felt woefully inadequate compared to the military-grade harnesses Victor was used to. As the wheel began its jerky ascent, the noise of the fair began to recede, replaced by the rhythmic clack-clack-clack of the gears and the whistling of the wind.

​When they reached the very top, the wheel shuddered to a halt to load passengers at the bottom.

​They were suspended in the dark, miles of black forest stretching out in one direction and the glittering, toy-town lights of Lower Falls in the other. The gondola swayed gently in the breeze, forcing them together on the narrow bench. Victor’s thigh was a solid, unyielding heat against hers, and his arm was draped across the back of the seat, his fingers inches from her shoulder.

​The silence up here was absolute.

​"You can stop looking for snipers now," Briar whispered, her voice sounding small in the vastness of the night. "There’s no one up here but us."

​Victor finally turned his head. Without the soft silver of the moon to temper him, his features were even more striking- the sun catching the faint, thin scar near his temple and the piercing, uncompromising blue of his eyes. The hard lines of the General were fully visible, yet as he looked at Briar, his expression shifted into something uncomfortably vulnerable.

​"It’s not snipers I’m worried about, Briar," he admitted, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that seemed to bypass her ears and go straight to her skin.

​"Then what?" she asked, her voice dropping to a whisper as the gondola swayed in a sudden gust of wind.

​"The descent," Victor said simply. He looked out over the town, his hand finally closing the distance and resting on her shoulder. His thumb traced the line of her collarbone through the thin cotton of her bakery shirt, a slow, heavy caress that reignited the electric hum in her veins. "In the field, I know how to manage a fall. I know how to brace for impact. But being here... with you... I’ve forgotten how to find the safety."

​The honesty of the admission made Briar’s heart perform a slow, heavy roll in her chest. She reached up, her hand covering his on her shoulder. His skin was hot, his pulse steady and strong under her palm.

​"Is that what this is to you? A fall?" she teased softly, though her eyes were sincere.

​"It’s a breach," Victor corrected, his eyes finding hers with a terrifying intensity. "You’ve spent two weeks dismantling every defense I have. Last night was the final collapse."

​The physical tension that had been simmering between them since the "extraction" from her bedroom- a coiled spring of suppressed memory and shared heat, suddenly felt unbearable in the cramped carriage. The midday heat seemed to amplify the scent of him: the sandalwood of his soap and the faint, metallic tang of the bakery keys still in his pocket.

​"I didn't mean to destroy your fortresses, Victor," Briar breathed, leaning into him until her shoulder was tucked firmly under his arm. "I just wanted to see who was inside."

​Victor’s grip on her shoulder tightened. He turned toward her, the confined space forcing them into a breath-stealing proximity. The sway of the wheel made her slide closer, her hand moving from his hand to the center of his chest, feeling the heavy, thudding rhythm of a heart that beat with military precision but currently raced with civilian desire.

​"You found him," Victor rumbled, his voice dropping to a low, rough register. "And now he doesn't know how to go back to being a General."

​He leaned down, his hand sliding from her shoulder to the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in the loose strands of hair that had escaped her bun during the lunch rush. When his lips met hers, it wasn't the desperate collision of the dark; it was slow, deep, and devastatingly certain. It tasted of the afternoon sun and the lingering promise of the night before.

​Briar let out a soft, shaky sigh into his mouth, her fingers curling into his black t-shirt. Up here, suspended between the blue sky and the dusty fairgrounds, the labels didn't matter. He wasn't a General, and she wasn't just a baker. They were two people holding onto each other in the light, trying to anchor themselves against a future that was already counting down.

​Victor pulled back just an inch, his forehead resting against hers. His breath was ragged, his pupils blown wide even in the bright sunlight.

​"Six weeks isn't enough," he growled softly.

​"Then make every hour feel like a day," Briar replied, her voice trembling with a mix of her signature sass and raw emotion. "Starting with not letting me fall out of this carriage when they start it back up."

​Victor let out a rare, genuine chuckle- a sound that vibrated through Briar’s entire body. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her firmly against his side, his chin resting on the top of her head.

​"I’ve got the watch, Briar," he murmured, his eyes fixed on the horizon as the wheel began to jerk back into motion. "I’m not letting you fall. Not today. Not ever."

​As the gondola descended back toward the noise of the fair and the watchful eyes of Archer and Mallory, the mask of the General began to settle back into place. They stepped off the ride and back into the dusty midway.