CHAPTER NINETEEN
What came next arrived on a Thursday, in the form of a mission briefing.
Olivia wasn't invited. She was still officially "reserve roster," which meant she trained but didn't deploy. She learned about the mission from Gloria, who'd overheard officers talking in the medical tent.
"Scavenging run to the old university district," Gloria said. "Twelve-person team. Heavy resistance expected. They're looking for something—some artifact the Covens requested."
"Why would the Vanguard help the Covens?"
"Because the Covens know things. About the Veil. About how to seal it, maybe. This artifact is supposed to be part of the solution."
Olivia found Lucas in the armoury, packing gear into a tactical pack. His face was drawn, tight with tension.
"You're going," she said. It wasn't a question.
"Commander Sable's leading. I'm her second."
"I want to come."
"No."
"Lucas—"
"No, Olivia." He stopped packing and faced her. "This isn't training. This is a combat operation in hostile territory against creatures we don't fully understand. One mistake means death."
"I've fought creatures. I killed a golem."
"One golem, in a confined space, with surprise on your side. The wasteland isn't a gym. It's not fair. It doesn't care how hard you've trained."
"Then why do you train me at all?" Olivia's voice rose. "If I'm just going to sit here forever, watching other people fight my battles, what's the point?"
"The point is that you're alive!" Lucas shouted, and the armoury went silent. He rarely raised his voice. The sound of it shocked them both.
He took a breath, reining himself in. "The point," he continued, quieter, "is that I watched the world end, Olivia.
I watched people die in ways I can't describe.
And the only thing that kept me moving was knowing you were safe behind these walls.
If I lost you out there—if something happened to you because I wasn't fast enough, strong enough, good enough—"
His voice broke. He turned away, shoulders tense.
Olivia approached slowly, placing a hand on his back. "I'm not made of glass, Lucas."
"I know."
"And I'm not yours to protect. I'm yours to train. To trust."
"I do trust you."
"Then let me prove it."
He turned, and she saw fear in his eyes—real, naked fear. Not for himself. For her.
"Please," she whispered. "Don't leave me behind."
Lucas closed his eyes. When he opened them, the fear was still there, but something else too. Something like resignation. Something like pride.
"You follow my orders. Exactly. Without question."
"I will."
"You stay behind me in combat. You don't engage unless I clear it."
"Okay."
"And if I say run, you run. No arguments. No heroics."
"Lucas—"
"Those are my conditions, Olivia. Take them or stay here."
She nodded. "I take them."
He kissed her forehead, brief and fierce. "You're going to be the death of me, Thornwood."
"Probably. But what a way to go."