Chapter 21 #3
Tristian lowered his pistol and waited. “Thoughts?”
“When you pull the trigger on your right hand, your ring finger and pinky, the grip is too tight; it’s pulling your shot slightly to the left.”
“His pinky, seriously?” Jaxon drawled.
I ignored him. “Try doing the same thing to the top target, but wait before you shoot.”
Tristian listened without hesitation. I reached out, then paused. “May I?”
“You don’t have to ask,” Tristian told me, holding his aim.
My calluses scraped across the back of his hand as I pushed the fingers up. “Keep them there,” I told him, heat coiling up my spine. I gave him space. “Clear.”
Tristian pulled, the shot landing dead center. He cleared his pistol and holstered it. A bell rang. I put distance between us as I removed my protective gear. “You’re a good shot, Hayes.”
The unit began to move, making its way across the Gym. “Thank you,” Tristian told me as he replaced his eye and ear protection.
My hand found my father’s knife again, my thumb brushing against the EC. Tristian tracked the movement. “He taught you well, your father,” Tristian said quietly, a hint of a question lacing the words. My thumb stilled. “He would be proud.”
“I’ll never know.”
I walked away, hurrying after the unit as they made their way toward the obstacle course. For the first time since our mission, Isla led the pack, practically skipping with a smile. It didn’t last. Jaxon pushed past her on a set of hanging bars, edging her out and sending her flying to the mat.
“What in the world did you see in him, Sasha?” Isla spat, sprawled on the mat.
Rumi, Damien, and I instantly dropped to the ground to help her. Across the way, Hayes held back Patrick, who looked ready to commit murder. Jaxon smirked. A part of me wished Tristian would just let Patrick go. He didn’t. Isla didn’t smile again.
Lunch was a quiet affair after the obstacle course.
I pushed the food around, the sticky feeling lingering, clinging to me as guilt swarmed me.
I couldn’t help but feel responsible for Jaxon’s presence.
Tristian took the open seat on my left, Levi’s usual seat.
He sat down, placing two cups of coffee before Patrick and Rumi.
Both seemed tired; the witching hour shift into a full day was catching up with them.
Thankfully, Jaxon sat across the mess hall with Unit Ten.
His arms wheeled wildly through the air as he reenacted something that looked an awful lot like Isla falling, met with a chorus of chuckles.
“I hate him,” Isla gritted out across from me.
“Join the club,” Damien muttered.
“He’s a pompous prick.” Patrick joined in between Rumi and Isla, grabbing the coffee. “Thanks, Hayes.”
“I’m sorry you two had witching hour into a full day. After the House, you can go. I’ll handle the breakdown and paperwork,” Tristian said.
“The fucking House? Why? Jaxhole has done it,” Damien bemoaned on my right.
“It’s okay. We can stay,” Rumi assured him as she sniffed the cup.
“It was worth it to see Rums’s face at being named second,” Patrick told Tristian, a rare smile playing at his mouth. Rumi shifted in her seat. Isla stabbed a piece of rehydrated meat with her fork.
“I can think of no one better,” Tristian told her, taking a bite.
“Cheers,” Damien claimed, knocking his water into Rumi’s coffee. “But seriously, the House?”
“Seriously, the House,” Tristian repeated. “There will be birds, and the sky will be closed.”
“What do you have planned, Commander?” Damien asked, his brow quirked in interest as he leaned across me. “Are you scheming?”
Tristian just shrugged, taking a bite of food, his right arm brushing against mine—the same arm I had trapped between us as I curled my body around his.
“Where’d Ingrid go?” Isla asked, looking around the mess hall.
“Kitchens,” Tristian told her.
“Again?” Isla asked, taking another bite.
“She cleared it with me. She’s struggling.”
“She’s been struggling,” Damien muttered.
Patrick nodded, talking around a mouthful. “At some point, she’s going to have to move on.”
“It’s hard to move on from death,” I told my plate.
Everyone fell quiet. Rumi whispered, “We all grieve differently. Lily was her partner.”
“After the House, can I leave, Hayes?” Isla asked, toying with her remaining food.
“Sure.”
Patrick pushed his empty plate away. “Why do you need to leave after?”
Isla gathered her things. “I’m going to the Ward to check on Levi.”
“Didn’t you go last night?” Patrick asked. Rumi’s wide eyes volleyed between Isla and him. Damien sighed.
“I did,” Isla said as she stood, taking her tray. Damien stared at the ceiling as Tristian focused on his food, but Patrick watched her the entire time.
Damien finally broke the silence. “You going to drink that?”
Rumi shook her head, pushing the cup toward him.
Thirty minutes later, we stood inside the House’s holding room in our low-radiation gear.
This was our last task before dinner and the end of the day, which everyone clearly needed.
The unit shoved on their helmets, the mood among us bleak the moment Jaxon rejoined us.
Had I been this bad for them to work with?
Tristian’s voice filled the helmet. “All right, Taylor. You’ve done this before. You know the rules, correct?”
“Correct, Hades,” Jaxon told him, leaning against the wall.
“It’s Commander Hayes,” Tristian corrected him. I had never once heard him correct anyone for not using his title. The unyielding tone caused goosebumps to erupt.
“Commander Burdon called you Hades,” Jaxon shot back.
“You don’t get the privilege to use a call sign or have one until you’ve been above with your unit, Taylor,” Tristian said, stepping toward him.
An imposing force. My core tightened. “Lyssa gave you a place in my unit. You didn’t earn it.
Do not disrespect a member of my unit by using something you have no right to. It’s last names for you, Taylor.”
“Oh fuck,” Damien exclaimed, smiling.
“What?” Isla asked.
“Call signs,” Damien said giddily. “We get to pick his call sign.”
“SPLAT,” Patrick said grinning, extending his fist.
Damien bumped his fist into it, “SPLAT.”
Jaxon bristled as he didn’t back down. “What of your disrespect, Commander Hayes?”
The smiles disappeared from Patrick’s and Damien’s faces.
“What disrespect would that be, Taylor?” Tristian asked, his voice lethal.
“Force Commander Burdon,” Taylor drawled, his helmeted head tilting.
Tristian didn’t back down as he practically growled, “Force Commander is an earned title. When she earns it, I’ll use it. Sato, McMurphy, you’re leading; Sato is scout. Cruz, Ford second. Cadell, Taylor third. Sorenson and I will take the rear.” As the unit fell into order, Taylor pressed on.
“Oh, I wasn’t talking about you using her title, Commander Hayes,” Taylor continued, coming to stand next to me, too close, Tristian’s helmet locking on the proximity.
“Partner check,” Rumi called out, interrupting whatever had started between them. Partners paired off, and everyone moved, the energy tangible.
Jaxon hit the button on my chest, partner communication taking over.
“Did I have it wrong?” Jaxon taunted, grabbing my straps.
He pulled tightly. “Williams was only a second. Why settle for that when you could get in with a unit commander? I underestimated your ambition.” His hand found my hip.
“No wonder the boot-kissing asshole hates me. Knowing I’ve had you over and over again. Crawling across Haven for me.”
I pushed his arm off, quickly grabbing his straps and pulling on them. “Grow up, Jaxon.”
Jaxon chuckled, like he was enjoying it.
“Want to know a secret? I was promised a place with the Heathens if I can bring down the fucking dream team.” He moved closer, my helmet tipping up.
“I’ll be Kaleo’s second if I get Hayes detained and you kicked back to Expansion.
Hayes is known for caring a little too much for his unit.
I figured I’d pick on you all, but he seems particularly concerned about you. ”
Anger filled me. His unrelenting jabs had been calculated. His face shield went up, a smirk upon his handsome face. He tapped my helmet, my face shield retracted, my chest heaving. “Fuck you.”
His hand landed on my chest, his eyes dancing.
“Gladly. I knew you’d grow tired of the boot-kissing bastard.
He’s not your type—it’s not what gets you off.
” Jaxon chuckled, pushing my chest harder, causing me to sway slightly.
“You’re not good enough for him, for any of them.
You never will be, and you know it. You’re too fucked-up. It’s why you always end up in my bed.”
Silence rang in my ears as I glanced down at his hand, resting above the unit communication. The things I thought I had buried with that bullet swarmed me. Six helmets stared in my direction. Jaxon winked at me before his shield came down.
“Mission 11202611, extract three hostages. Hostages will be in white. All others are considered enemies. Enemies are to be killed on sight,” Patrick said into the helmet. My face heated as my frantic pulse whooshed, drowning everything out.
A hiss filled the air as the door to the House pulled back.
I shoved down my shield, took my spot behind Damien.
Not even three minutes later the lights were on.
We had failed the mission spectacularly.
It wasn’t Hayes in Jaxon’s face but Patrick, Damien wedged in between them.
Even as hatred coursed through me, I couldn’t deny Jaxon’s abilities in the House.
He blended in with the rest of them, his moves fluid and confident.
“You put us all at fucking risk,” Patrick yelled. “Sato is the scout.”
“Patrick,” Damien called, pushing him back.
“Maybe your scout should do her job,” Jaxon sneered.
“She has the best record in the House,” Isla told him.
“More kills than anyone else,” Ingrid chimed in.
“Can’t even control his unit with minor changes.” Kaleo leaned over the observation bar. The sky was clear. “It’s chaos.”
Burdon stood next to him, her sapphire eyes cold and calculating.
“Think you can do better, Kaleo?” Hayes called up, his helmet discarded.
Kaleo snorted. “Yes, but I’d rather watch you all squabble.”
Jaxon laughed. One second Jaxon stood in front of Damien, the next he was slammed against the wall, Ingrid inches from his face. She was the same height as him. “This isn’t a game. People’s lives depend on us.”
“ENOUGH. Hayes, my office now,” Burdon demanded. “You too, Kaleo.”
I watched them leave, a storm cloud gathering over Tristian’s broad shoulders.
I knew what I had to do. I would get Levi back for them, no matter the cost.