Chapter 25
For a week I avoided Tristian, but I couldn’t stop thinking of how it felt to lose myself in the feel of him against me.
How I had pleaded for him not to stop. We hadn’t talked one-on-one since.
I was terrified that if we were alone I’d demand more, that I would blurt my own confession—that maybe I couldn’t stop.
I had fled the moment Tristian embraced Levi, unable to face what I had done.
I barely held myself together, the feel of his lips upon mine branded on me.
My skin was too sensitive, wanting more—needing more, desperate in a way I had never known.
Every glance we shared felt weighted. Each time he sat next to me in the mess hall, I fought the urge to lean into him.
My body screamed for more. It was too much, so I ran, pushing away all the thoughts until each night in my bed, in the dark, the memory of Tristian’s body against mine returned, leaving me tossing and turning. A damn riot raged beneath my skin.
Now, I found myself in the Exploratory Room, unable to look away from the commander in the room, the table he had placed me on.
“It’s Sasha’s call,” Tristian said.
I snapped to attention as seven faces turned in my direction. We were going above in two days. At least six of us were once I delivered the blow. Levi already knew he couldn’t go above. Damien on the other hand…
Tristian held my gaze. “Is Damien fit to go above?”
My pulse pressed against my skin as I hesitated.
“What would you do, little flower?” my father had once asked me.
He’d been grilling me over scenarios following our time in the woods for a week.
I didn’t know who was winning the war as it engulfed the globe.
Atrocity after atrocity filled our screens, blurring lines between good and bad.
Varying national leaders broadcasted, justifying the bombings of innocent people—the enemy somehow hidden among them but never found.
We were losing our humanity.
I didn’t have an answer to his question. “I—”
He cut me off. “You hesitated. In that single moment, you second-guess your gut, and people die. You die.”
I knew the answer he wanted, and I couldn’t give it. He poured more coffee into my cup, leaving his empty. All his scenarios left me here, unable to destroy my own humanity, unable to choose one life over the other. He talked like it should be easy. I couldn’t find it in me.
“In war, you have to make these decisions, Sasha. You won’t have time for hesitation. You must silence that part of you tied to your moral compass. It won’t do any good. I need you to know the answers to these questions.”
“You’re leaving.” The realization strangled me.
“They called last week.”
When these questions had started. “Was all of this just so you could go?” I asked.
“No, you should know these things—”
“So I can protect them while you go and fight.” Something irreparable broke in me at that table. I pushed away from it, from him. “Military comes first. Always has.”
“Sasha, this is war. If we don’t stop them, we will all fall. Our country will fall. I was trained for this,” he said calmly—matter-of-factly. I wish he had yelled it—showed just a glimpse that this was eating him alive. He didn’t.
That infuriated me. For once I let it land right where it had always belonged.
At the man who demanded more of me than my siblings—who pushed me to my limits.
“And if you go and the military still fails, you’ve trained me, right?
Because Mom is too sick. Lara is too delicate, and Eli is a child.
So you trained me. Stealing my humanity for theirs. ”
The answer to all his questions.
“Someone always has to sacrifice. The others aren’t like you. You are strong, Sasha. You cannot hesitate.”
Every day since I wondered if he had known what he asked of me, what it would cost me…He did. I hated that. He knew and did it anyway. Someone always has to sacrifice…What if I was tired of sacrificing? What if I was done being strong?
“Sasha?” Tristian asked, his brow furrowed.
I let the memory go. I met Damien’s pleading stare. Damien hadn’t had enough time to heal for the mission we had been assigned. He’d stay behind with Levi.
I took a deep breath. “You can’t go above, Damien.”
“My ankle is improving,” he protested. It was; he could walk on it. But it wasn’t enough. At the end of each day he limped, the pain and swelling too much. He skipped dinner every night and kept to our living quarters, the ankle elevated as we all brought him little bits of food.
“It is improving, but—”
“Then let me go. I can do it. I’ll make it work. I won’t slow you down. Don’t make me stay behind.”
Isla placed her hand on his knee, squeezing. His story from the other day tore me apart.
“I know you would figure out a way,” I said. “But you can’t go. Your ankle won’t hold up on three days of walking. What if you fall and injure it worse? What if we have to run back due to weather?”
Damien opened his mouth, ready to fight.
“If you go, you put Isla at risk,” I said, knowing it would cause him to give in.
Isla watched him, her face grave as she cupped his cheek.
Damien’s jaw went tight as he worked to swallow, but he caved.
I hated that I knew bringing Isla into this would cause him to listen, that my father had been successful.
A bell tolled. “It’s decided then,” Tristian said. “Buddy and Raven are out this mission. This stays within Seven.”
“Even with Jaxon we won’t have a complete unit, Hayes,” Patrick interrupted.
“I know. But no one else will know that. If Burdon hears about Damien she will call the mission,” Tristian said.
“For all she knows, Damien is fit to go above. She’s more focused on the sector meetings pertaining to this illness.
Command is distracted. The Ward is officially closed to all non-Ward personnel.
Expansion followed suit. Haven is close to a lockdown.
We found an entrance. We press on. We’re all going to the entrance I found.
We go beneath together; if we split up, someone will be a group of three.
That’s decided. Now, you know the drill: no booze, no bars, no fights, and meet in two days at the seventh bell. I’ll inform Taylor of the departure.”
Everyone nodded, a heaviness about them at the fractured unit. Damien didn’t look my way again.
The unit began to disperse. Green eyes flickered my way, but Tristian left the room.
“I need a medic,” Levi said as he grabbed his bag from the table.
“Why? Is not wearing the sling affecting you?” I demanded. I’d told him he was being stupid not to wear it, and he had brushed me off. The discussion had ended there.
Levi pulled a sweater out, followed by a journal, a small ball, and a white bag, only using his right arm. “No, I need the stitches out. It’s been long enough, and they itch like mad. When Kumar released me, he gave me this.” Levi handed me a small white bag.
I pulled out a suture kit as Levi tugged off his shirt and took a seat.
I approached him wordlessly, looking over the cut.
The sutures were indeed pulling on the freshly healed wound.
The skin was shiny and disfigured. The scar tissue made the once smooth muscle uneven.
Guilt sank in my gut at the sight of it. “I’ve maimed you.”
“Kumar himself stitched it up. So technically he maimed me.”
“I had to leave it open for too long.”
“It’s just a scar, Sasha—one I hold dear because it’s proof good people still exist. I am happy for the scar—that I’m alive to have it.”
I grabbed the tiny shears and tweezers from the bag, unable to say anything back. Slowly I began snipping the stitches. Levi let me work silently, shuddering occasionally as I pulled a thread from his skin.
“Does it hurt?” I asked.
“No, just tight, but Kumar told me it would be. I’ll need to massage the area and stretch.”
“I can help you.” I pulled another stitch from his skin.
“You kissed Hayes,” Levi said. It was a statement, a question, and something more.
I pulled a suture tight, snipping the knot and tugging the string free. “It was a mistake.”
“Why?”
I captured another suture, pulling, my mind filling with endless answers to the question. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay,” Levi responded. I was thankful for his acceptance. “But what does your mistake have to do with us? Why are you avoiding me? Because I walked in?”
I risked a glance at his face. His eyes that usually yielded nothing met mine. Something like hurt sat there.
I lowered the shears as I swallowed. “I thought—he’s your brother.”
“He is,” Levi agreed, holding my gaze.
I shook my head. I respected that Levi never filled the space, giving others their chance to say what they needed to.
That he didn’t pry. Never acted entitled to a person’s thoughts.
In this moment I wished he was different as my following words left me uneasy—too exposed.
“How could you want your friend with someone like me? I’m not a good person. ”
Levi stayed still as I finished removing the remaining sutures, moving as quickly as I could. I tugged on one that caught. I repositioned my tweezers, pulling again.
“I’m sorry”—Levi spoke quietly as he stared straight ahead—“that someone in your life made you think you weren’t good.
That you weren’t worthy of good things.” My hands shook.
I pulled harder until the suture came free.
Levi’s left hand wrapped around my wrist as he waited quietly until I begrudgingly looked at him. “You are worthy of good things, Sasha.”
I shook my head. “You’re wrong.”
Levi’s hand tightened. “You are.” He held my gaze for a moment before he dropped it. I began snipping the dwindling sutures. We remained silent until I finished, and Levi tugged his shirt back on, packing his bag as I gathered my things.