212 Eye of the Storm


Whenever there is a crisis, everything inside of me goes very calm. I can focus. I know what needs to be done, and I do it. 

It's an eerie ability that few have, and it's one of the traits Pa would praise me for the most as a child. He used to call me occhio, Italian for "eye." He would say I was "the eye of the storm," "l'occhio del ciclone." 

Now whether I was the one causing the storm or guiding people through it is another subject entirely, but I have always maintained the calm needed for those logical, calculated steps that come next. That's what he's always said makes a good leader.

Holding Rory, seeing her bleeding, is threatening that calm. I'm shaking internally—too full of fury at the fact that I wasn't there when I needed to be, that she got hurt because of it, that she is in some kind of danger like I feared she might be.


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