Chapter 10 #3
“She pulled a weapon on the mats, Tristian.”
“You ordered the entire Force to make her fall. What did you expect Cadell to do? You wanted proof she was all in. There you go,” Tristian snarled.
“Time is running out. I needed a medic, and I got one. I’m running my unit and mission how it should have been run from the beginning. I’m done with your game, Lyssa.”
“It’s Force Commander Burdon,” Burdon hissed through her teeth.
Tristian shook his head. “Only when it’s beneficial.”
“Take your cadet and get the hell out of my sight,” Burdon demanded.
Tristian turned, ripping the door open. “I won’t stop my unit from defending themselves, nor will I stop preparing them.
” Fury leaked from him. It was a side of Tristian I had never seen.
He gripped the door like he would break it.
“Call off your dogs, Force Commander Burdon. I’ve already told you once—if this is between you and me, keep it there. Leave my unit alone.”
Tristian allowed me to walk out, but I heard him continue, “Those papers, that’s low, even for you. Murray is in a holding cell. I will confirm with the other commanders of his review. He’s done in the Force.” Tristian slammed the door and took off, passing me.
I hurried to keep up, falling in line with him. I should thank him. Tristian stared directly ahead, content to walk in silence. I swallowed whatever I wanted to say to him. Only when we reached the door to the commanders’ locker room did he speak.
I wondered if he was going to reprimand me. If I had caused too much trouble. He stared at me, but there was no anger in his gaze.
“Are you okay?” he finally asked.
After everything I had just heard, his concern was if I was okay. I nodded.
He sighed. “Good. Look, what I said in there, I meant it. I need a medic. Haven needs this mission completed. I can’t lose—I need my unit to be safe.” He shook his head, his hands fisted at his sides. He widened his stance, preparing for a fight. Guilt pelted me—my viciousness had done this.
“Hate me all you want,” Tristian said, leaning closer.
My heart found my throat. “Hate me for ruining your life. Hate me for being here. Blame me. Fight me. You need somewhere to put your rage. I’ll take it.
I can handle it. I can live with your hate.
But I am asking you”—his chest heaved with a shaking breath—“I am begging you to try for them, for Haven. To trust us. Help us complete this mission, and you can be done. I’ll personally see you get the sector you want and”—his throat bobbed—“I’ll leave you alone for good. ”
Tristian will carry it all for everyone, no matter what it does to him.
Words evaded me at the desperation etched across his face, at the storm he was willing to weather for his unit.
Burdon had been right; his loyalty knew no bounds.
But where she had spat it at him like it was a mark against his character, I didn’t.
I never had. I felt it settle deep within me, the admiration I already felt for him, and something else, something dangerous.
I buried it, along with the feel of his body against mine, refusing to acknowledge what I harbored.
His gaze searched mine, the silence growing. Finally he said, “I have to go. Most of the unit is at lunch.” He turned on his heel and left.
I watched him walk away, then headed toward the locker room. Though my stomach growled, I didn’t have it in me to go to the mess hall. I didn’t want the looks or the whispered conversations about the attack from the rest of the Force.
I opened my locker, placing my weapons within, then stripped down and wrapped myself in a towel.
I didn’t want to feel in debt to the unit for showing up, for helping me, for having my back.
Not when I hadn’t given them a single reason to do so.
I had given them endless reasons to let Murray ruin me. To watch me fail. To want me gone.
Yet, they had shown up.
I entered the showers and let the lukewarm spray cascade over me. Unit Seven was good in all the ways I was not. They were good, like Tristian. Unit Seven cared. About Haven. About their mission. But more than anything, they cared about one another.
I closed my eyes, the water running down my face.
I grabbed the bar of soap and scrubbed every inch of myself.
I washed my hair, tangled from Murray’s hands and the mat.
A moment during the attack lingered in my mind.
When Murray had flipped me and I had kicked wildly, my leg landing just right, locking around his, a feeling had bloomed in my chest. Preparing for my next move, I had felt something.
Could I trust them? Could I trust myself? The question pulsed through me, intertwining with the beat of my heart. Lily’s final words joined the fray.
“Thank you for listening. I know you think I’m insane for telling you about them—but that’s the whole point to love and live, isn’t it? To protect them until the very end. To know someone will have their back, will love them after you’re gone. To trust those left to keep going.”
I had to at least try. I had to keep going.