Chapter 8 #2
His green eyes flared. I had caught him off guard. “It was a selfish decision by Command,” he said unapologetically. “The people brave enough to look for a future for Haven should be protected. My unit matters to me. Life matters to me. I won’t apologize for that. The risk is too great.”
“What risk, Tristian? There is nothing above.”
Tristian didn’t meet my eyes. “I’m a unit commander, not Force commander.”
“What does that have to do with any of this?”
Tristian ran his hands through his hair, more curls tumbling free.
“I am not cleared to give you that information without Lyssa going after my unit, and I will never give her another opening. Until she’s convinced you’re trustworthy, my hands are tied.
You fighting us every step, disobeying orders, isn’t helping my case for you. ”
“So you want me to just follow you and keep your unit safe without knowing anything?”
Tristian’s calmness broke as he strode toward me until I had to tilt my head up.
My breath caught at the intensity in his gaze.
“No. I want you to know, but she’s fucking right, you’re a damn flight risk.
I’m trying to help, but I’m left wondering if I’m not wasting everyone’s time trying to convince you this is necessary.
So no, I don’t want to leave you in the dark.
I want to include you. But I took an oath for my unit and Haven. I will not risk either.”
I stood speechless as Tristian turned, abruptly stalking off. He only made it three steps before he stopped, whirling on me. “You know what I really want, Sasha?”
I shook my head as he started toward me again.
“I want you to give a shit. About anything. About Haven. About them. About yourself.”
“Then you are wasting your time,” I whispered, hopelessly.
Tristian’s jaw ground together as he shook his head. “You can make a difference. You are capable of something hardly anyone else here can do. You can save people’s lives. It’s why you’re here.”
“That’s the only reason I’m here, Hayes?” I bit out, the air between us too thick as my skin tingled at the anger leaking from him.
Tristian said nothing for several seconds, the air filled with nothing but the sound of our breaths as he just stared at me. Words evaded me as he completely closed off, cold and withdrawn in a way Tristian never truly was.
“Yes.” He drifted away from me. “That’s the only reason. Formation is at the fifth bell. Storm is clearing above. We need to be ready before the end of this moon. With or without you,” Tristian said, his voice flat. “I will not fail them or this mission.”
I stood frozen until his retreating back disappeared. My rage dissipated, leaving me too bare. I turned, my feet dragging me away.
I should have stopped and gone into our living quarters. They would be empty; everyone else was at the mess hall. Or I could have chased Tristian down and fought with him more. Or I could try. Just try at anything. But that familiar heaviness blanketed me.
I raised my hand before a familiar door. Jaxon would be inside waiting. I could knock, lose myself in the distraction Jaxon provided. I should knock.
The door yanked open, and two of his unit members filled the doorway. “Jax, she’s here,” one of them said, pushing past me.
“Come in, Death’s Angel,” Jaxon practically purred. “I knew you’d always come back.”
All I could see was Tristian walking away. “I—I changed my mind.”
“You what?” Jaxon asked, his swagger faltering.
“I have to go.” I turned and fled.
“Sasha, what the fuck?” Jaxon yelled as I ran from the Force Sector. Tristian’s heated words chased after me until I reached a door I had avoided for six months. My pulse refused to slow as I pushed the door open.
The closet remained untouched, a dusty empty cup on the floor next to a rag. I stared at the empty cot. All I saw were hazel eyes that refused to halt their joyful dance in the face of death. Lily. I saw her on the cot as if it was yesterday.
“Take me to the Ward, Sasha. I don’t…” Lily attempted to push herself up. “I don’t want to ruin this place for them—for you. They’re going to need your help after I’m gone. They have to keep going.”
I shook my head, denying that look—the smell—of death. A leech draining her. “You might get better.”
Lily smiled weakly. “You agreed, no lies.”
She had made me swear I wouldn’t lie about her health the day Ingrid had carried her here.
“I want you to get better,” I confessed.
Bargaining with death again. I hated that I couldn’t accept that it did no good.
Losing her would dismantle the unit. Lily was their life source; the war hadn’t broken her.
She checked in on everyone, almost as much as Tristian did.
She always brought their favorite thing or covered a shift.
No jokes or debts owed. She loved them freely, and she was dying.
Her hand wrapped around mine. This might destroy me too.
“But I won’t. You know it. I know it. Desmond knows. He was just here,” Lily told me, gesturing to the empty cup beside her bed and a rag filled with food. Her older brother came every morning after his shift in the Kitchens. “My parents are waiting. Take me to the Ward, please. Let me go home.”
I had carried her into the Ward, offering to get the others.
“Don’t. I’ve said my goodbyes in my own way,” Lily said, still holding my hand. Her eyes refused to stay open for long. “Where did I leave off?”
The knot in my throat choked me. She had been telling me her wants, hopes, disclosing everything she held dear. All of it about her unit. Making sure I knew what to watch for, as if she expected me to fill the chasm she would be leaving. I hated that I knew I never could—that no one could.
“Hayes,” I whispered.
“That’s right.” Lily’s eyes closed. “He’s a special one.”
I hated everything. All of it. I couldn’t grapple with all the hatred.
For the war. At my father for leaving. My mother giving up.
Failing my sister and brother. Living beneath the ground.
Lily dying. The nickname I earned from being left alone.
At others for being able to carry on while I remained a ghost of myself.
I sank onto the cot, curling into a ball, alone, all my anger righting itself—tearing me apart.
The only thing I truly hated…
Was me.