Chapter 16 Elara
Elara
The hum of the transport was a steady vibration under my boots, the kind of sound that usually calmed me. Not this time. This time, it pressed against my chest like a warning drum.
The team sat in their usual formation—Oliver by the rear hatch, Gage scanning maps across his knee, Cyclone muttering into his headset about chatter from Hydra channels.
His gun across his lap. And Beckett, across from me, posture rigid, rifle balanced on his knees like an extension of his body.
His eyes never stopped moving. Every few seconds, they landed on me, sharp as a scalpel.
I laced my fingers together, forcing them to stay still.
If he saw the tremor, he’d think it was fear.
And maybe it was. Not of Hydra—they were monsters, but monsters I knew.
No, the fear was him. The way his protectiveness pressed in, suffocating and steady, like he’d already claimed responsibility for every breath I took.
“You okay?” Cyclone asked, almost absently, like it was just another line of data he needed to confirm.
“I’m fine,” I said, the two words clipped, rehearsed.
But Beckett’s gaze caught mine at that moment, and I knew he didn’t buy it. He never did.
I tilted my chin, meeting his stare head-on. “Don’t look at me like I’m going to break, Cole.”
His mouth tightened. “Not going to. Already said it—everybody does. Question’s when.”
Heat flared in my chest, anger and something else tangled tight. “Maybe you’re watching the wrong person. Hydra doesn’t scare me. I just want Hydra destroyed.”
His jaw worked, muscle ticking. “Then you’re either braver than the rest of us, or too damn reckless.”
I should’ve looked away. Instead I leaned forward, closing the small gap of air between us, my voice low so only he could hear. “Maybe I’m just done letting men decide what I am.”
For a heartbeat, the transport was too quiet. His eyes locked on mine, hard and unyielding, but beneath it I saw something I wasn’t supposed to: respect. And that scared me more than his distrust ever had.
River spoke up. “Five minutes, guys, get your gear ready.”
Everyone shifted, checked their weapons, and fell into the ritual. My heartbeat steadied, my mask snapped back into place.
Beckett leaned in just enough that his shoulder brushed mine, the contact brief but grounding. His voice was low, rough. “Stay close to me, Voss.”
It wasn’t a request. It was a promise.
And for the first time since Hydra, I wasn’t sure if I hated being protected—or if I craved it.